Текст книги "Right Next Door"

Автор книги: A. J. Pryor

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Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Wall of Trust

The Perfect Wave

Right Next Door

My fiancé is officially a married man. The only problem is that he isn’t married to me. . .

Addison Peacock has been stuck in the same seaside town her entire life. When her college boyfriend proposes the night before graduation, she can finally see the future she’d always dreamt about. But the sudden illness of her father causes her to put that future on hold, and her soon-to-be husband leaves, with nothing but a promise that one day he’ll return.

Now, five years later, he’s kept that promise. There’s only one problem . . . he’s already married. Crushed twice by the same man, Addison needs a distraction, someone to get her back on her feet and mend her broken heart. As luck would have it, Damian Walker has just moved in next door.

Having rebuilt his own life after a drunk driver stole his career, his heart . . . everything, Damian knows what it’s going to take to get Addison’s life back on track. But he’s not going to be anyone’s rebound. His life is complicated . . . there’s no room for one-night stands. Until Addison knows what she’s looking for, neighbors are all they’ll ever be.

One shared wall, two sun-kissed balconies, and a chance at love...a twist of fate. Could the possibility of a future be right next door?

It’s official. I hate his guts. Not only the black heart residing inside his magnificent chest, but his dark blue eyes, every piece of perfectly styled brown hair, down to his clean-shaven face and expensive aftershave. I should have known when he showed up with evenly clipped and buffed nails that he was no longer the same man who swept me off my feet nine years ago. A man who promises you the world one minute, then quietly disappears out of your life the next, never looking back, is far from decent.

It’s been five years since he left me. Five years of silence, five years of waiting for a man who was gone, living his life, while I was stuck here trying to piece mine back together.

Fumbling my phone out of the tiny black clutch I’ve been carrying for over twelve hours, I scan the driveway for the nearest cab. As one approaches, I lower my head trying to avoid any familiar eyes. Growing up in a small town, you’re bound to run into someone you know at every turn. Getting caught sneaking out of the Four Seasons Hotel at eight on a Saturday morning wearing last night’s clothes is not something I need advertised in the Santa Barbara News-Press.

Spotting a black Prius with a yellow taxi sign on top, I step off the curb and wave my hand, thanking whatever god is on my side this morning as it pulls to a stop beside me. Glancing in the window before I open the door, I catch a quick look at the mess of dark brown hair spilling around my face, and cringe at the sight of my wrinkled shirt. I never thought I’d get caught doing the Walk of Shame at twenty-seven-years-old, but life clearly has other plans for me.

As I quickly slip inside and relay my address to the driver, my ringtone blares. “I was just about to call you, Paige,” I say. Taking a steadying deep breath, I drop the nuclear bomb. “The fucker’s married.”

“Holy shit Addison, like married, married?”

“As far as I know, Paige, marriage has only one definition.”

She huffs on the other end of the line, and I feel as dirty as this taxicab’s cloth seats. “I knew it! I knew that asshole was up to no good! You never should have left with him last night, Addison.”

We had been at Joe’s, a 50’s style bar that’s been in existence since before my grandmother was born, watching all the people who had returned for UCSB alumni weekend, when Matt walked right up to our table.

“Addison? Is that you?”

I sat there wide-eyed, my jaw stretching to the floor as the man who had successfully ripped my heart in two stood in front of us.

“You’re back,” I’d whispered, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. After five years of trying to forget about him, five years of attempting to mend my broken heart, he’d finally returned. When he held out his hand, I took it, when he led me to the exit, I followed, when he hailed a cab, I let him open the door for me. After years of pining for this man, I needed answers.

The cabbie pulls up to my building, and I throw a few bills his way. I open the door and step out into the cool January air.

Looking at the stairs that lead to my apartment, a feeling of cold dread creeps its way through my veins. I’m an adulterer. The worst of the worst.

“Does he know you’re a divorce attorney? That you could single-handedly make his balls shrivel and fall off by handing his entire bank account over to his wife?”

“He lives in New York, Paige. I can’t practice there.”

I’m breathing hard into the phone as I take the stairs two at a time. Paige is shouting at me, but I’m only hearing tidbits of what she has to say, my mind scattered and unfocused, zeroing in on the fact that I spent the night with a married man. Someone I once thought was my future, my soul, my dreams.

“I never stopped loving you, Addison.” His hand trailed up my thigh and my body reacted. “You frequently come to me in my dreams, and I reach for you, but you’re never real.”

“You left me.”

I’m brought back to the present by Paige screeching in my ear. “When did he get married? Did you know he was married? Oh my God, Addison Peacock, did you know he was married?” She says this last part slowly and deliberately, and I don’t appreciate the accusing tilt in her tone of voice.

“Of course I didn’t know. It’s been a rough few years, but give me some credit.” I wish I could block out the night that keeps playing like a horror movie in my mind, but I’d craved his hands on my body for so long, and memories fade fast. I had longed to have Matt Bryson here in the flesh, his blue eyes hungrily taking me in as he pulls me to him and presses his lips to mine, his hard body making me feel things I hadn’t realized I’d been missing.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Addison.”

“He wasn’t wearing a ring, and trust me, I checked.”

In fact, his hands were the first place I looked after I realized he had actually returned to Santa Barbara. But I didn’t come right out and ask him if he had a wife at home. I’d been waiting for his return to this damn town for the past five years. We had a lot of making up to do. His sudden appearance and instant command of my body made me forget everything I’d imagined I would say if he ever came home. But now that the sun has risen, I’m wishing I’d thought this through a little more.

He was supposed to marry me.

Sadness envelops me as I continue up towards my apartment. “Please tell me you were drunk,” she keeps pressing.

Even if I could blame my actions on tequila, it wouldn’t change the end result. Matt left me five years ago, and it’s time I came to terms with that.

I’m about to change the subject when something catches my attention. A new car is parked in the carport, and I’m certain it wasn’t there last night. “Paige, I’ve gotta go.”

“What? No way. I want details. I need to know when you found out he was married, who he married. Why hasn’t he tried to contact you for five years? I want answers, dammit!”

“Matt? What is this?” I asked, holding what appeared to be a wedding ring between my index finger and my thumb. But that was impossible. Matt couldn’t be married. I looked at the ring then his face.

He tensed, a muscle ticked in his lower jaw, and his eyes hardened. “Where did you find that?”

I took a step towards him. “In the bathroom. Is it yours?”

One nod of his head, that’s all he gave me.

“You’re married?”

“Does any of it really matter, Paige? He’s married. Maybe now I can finally move on.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath, wishing that was as easy as it sounded. “Come over later for dinner, and I’ll give you all the details.”

Without giving her a chance to respond, I hang up.

The Spanish-style building houses two units, mine, and the one to my right. That one’s been vacant for months, and if the monster truck now parked down below is any indication, it has just been rented to a meat-head, another asshole to add to society—just what I need. I hope he’s not expecting a welcome to the neighborhood apple pie. The fact that he’s male instantly makes me hate him, and I sneer as I look down one more time at the huge black truck.

The past twelve hours have changed my entire attitude about life. I deal with assholes on a daily basis. Cheating spouses, men crying poor so they don’t have to pay child support, women crying the victim when I know they probably haven’t put out for their husband in years. It’s my job to settle them down, to deliver the best deal possible for the party who’s hired me, whether I think they deserve it or not. But I’ve always sold myself short. I settle when I know I deserve so much more. Well, not anymore. From here forward I’m going to be like the contestants from American Ninja Warrior—badass, unstoppable, and you better not mess with me because I’m not taking anyone’s shit.

Bursting through my apartment door, I begin to shed last night’s clothes, balling them up and dumping the entire ensemble in the garbage. I slide into a pair of running shorts, tank, and tennis shoes deciding I need to sweat out all the disgusting coursing through my veins. Feeling slightly worked, this is going to be painful, but I can’t sit home and wallow in self-pity the rest of the day either. I’ve wasted enough of my life on Matt Bryson.

A loud crash echoes through the wall from next door, and I bare my teeth as I race down the stairs and onto the sidewalk. Silencing the rest of the world with my ear buds, I press play on my iPod, and Bastille’s “Flaws” blasts in my ears. Thankful for the distraction, I begin to run.

My pace starts out normal, my feet pound the pavement, and the smell of the ocean gets more pronounced the closer I get. Santa Barbara, one of the most beautiful seaside towns in existence, is just waking up. Most people spend their lives hoping to retire in a city exactly like this. I’ve spent my entire life trying to get out of it.

No one can deny the beauty of this city. The sun is always shining, surfers are on constant display, palm trees line the streets, and it’s like a perfect and peaceful paradise. It’s always been my home, but when all you see are memories you wish you could forget, and the thought of how your life should be plagues your mind every day, the beauty begins to fade. Fate just had to step in and change all of my meticulously thought out plans.

Matt had proposed right before he took off to conquer the world. Promising to return, promising this wasn’t goodbye, but a chance for him to prove to me and everyone else that he’d be the best husband ever. But his calls were infrequent, his visits non-existent.

If my dad hadn’t become so sick, I would have left, as well. But leaving my father to fend for himself was not an option. Too caught up in the craziness that was my life, it took me years to get over the shock of Matt’s absence. Only recently moving forward, but now . . . crap, now I’m right back where I was five years ago.

Running harder, faster, trying to outrun the memory of his touch, I’m taken completely off guard when my foot suddenly catches on something and I fall.

My hands slam down in front of me, my face hitting the pavement, and my body completely hugging the concrete. My ear buds fly loose and fall to the ground with Hozier’s “Take Me to Church” blasting around me.

I’m disoriented and have no idea how I went from an upright position to splayed out on the sidewalk. The loud music adds to my confusion, and I realize the plug has dislodged from my iPod. I quickly turn it off and inwardly groan at how crappy this weekend ended up.

Lifting my head, I look around in total embarrassment.

As I gaze directly in front of me, my eyes land on a pair of legs—masculine legs, strong, tan and inches from my face. I slowly drift my eyes up those legs, past the knees and to the bottom of a pair of black nylon running shorts. A white T-shirt hangs out of the back of his shorts, and my eyes continue their upward appraisal, landing on a dark happy trail . . . six pack . . . eight pack. My mouth falls open at the count . . . a glistening sheen of sweat covers his broad chest . . . a slight smattering of hair, a throat, and an Adam’s apple—scruff, there is scruff.

I have to stop. If I look any higher, I’ll get a kink in my neck.

Placing my hands on the ground, the rough feel of the sidewalk digging into my palms, I push back onto my knees. The sun is shining behind this person’s head making it hard to see his face. He looks like he has a halo of sunrays that stretch out and around behind him. I blink, wondering if I just died in my fall and this is heaven, because this man sure looks like he was sent here to save me.

He kneels down in front of me, pulling his own ear buds out of each ear. “Are you okay?”

Getting a better look at the celestial creature, I notice something familiar about his dark eyes and pink, full lips.

“I think so. Not sure what happened.” Unconsciously, my lips begin to curl at the ends. This guy is a total stud, and I’m having a hard time taking my eyes off him, forgetting for a moment I’m boycotting the male race.

He helps me to my feet, his large strong hands tucking under my elbows as he lifts me. His fingers stay on my arms a beat longer than necessary, a playful grin gracing his full lips. “You tripped on that tree root. Happens all the time.”

Stop with the sexy grin!

I turn to look at the very large tree root protruding from the ground causing the sidewalk to look lopsided. “Really?”

He laughs. “I have no idea, but I thought it would make you feel better.”

I scowl, because A—he’s a man and has a penis, which I’m disgusted with right now, and B—he’s trying to be nice, and I’m not in the mood for nice.

His eyes widen at my expression, and he takes a step back.

Now on level footing, I get a good look at his face, and my stomach tingles. Butterflies flap their damn wings all over the place. His strong jaw and dark brown eyes make him almost fictional, someone you hear about, see on television but doesn’t really exist. Those full lips tilted in a lopsided grin make him adorably boyish, and his dark brown hair, short but slightly messy on top, combined with his olive skin, makes him temptingly sexy.

His chest is glistening with sweat, and he has a towel wrapped around his shoulders and an iPod Velcro-ed to his arm. A slight breeze picks up, and the scent of a man surrounds me. Not a gross sweaty man, but a masculine scent that settles deep in my gut and sends a warm feeling swimming through my veins.

He lifts his hand to my cheek. “You scratched your face.”

I step away from his touch and reach a hand to where he just pointed. “I did?” I ask, my fingers brushing against his for a split second. Now that he’s mentioned it, my skin begins to sting a little.

His lips fall, taking on a serious expression, as I make every attempt to back away from him. Sighing, I decide I should be a little nicer. It’s not his fault I’m attracted to giant assholes. I begin to introduce myself, but he beats me to it.

Holding out his hand, he doesn’t hide the fact that his eyes are roaming over my body. I’m short, only five foot two, but I’m built well and have always kept myself in shape. Needing to get outside as quickly as possible, I’d thrown my dark chocolate brown hair into a messy bun, and didn’t take the time to remove last night’s makeup from my green eyes.

I must look like shit.

I’d barely slept at all, rolling around the pristine and silky white sheets of the Four Seasons Hotel with a married man.

Ugh, block the memory.

Caught up in his gaze, I barely hear the name that rolls out of his mouth. “I’m Damian Walker.”

“Addison Peacock.” I shake his hand. It’s huge, twice the size of Matt’s in length and width and holds onto mine for a second longer than necessary. Crap, am I going to compare every man I meet to Matt for the rest of my life? I feel the edges of rough calluses on the bottom of his palm, and they tickle my skin as my hand slides out of his. Looking at the bulging, defined muscles of his bicep I can only assume those calluses came from hours spent at the gym.

“Peacock suits you. It matches your eyes.”

I can’t help but stare at his mouth. His lips are full and pink and seem to be permanently tilted up in a smile, and I’m beginning to warm to the idea of not being a complete bitch to this total stranger just because he happens to have a penis.

If it’s true what they say about hands and penises, Damian’s must be . . . don’t go there, Addison. That subject is completely off limits for a long time.

“I saw you. Last night at Joe’s.” His eyes smile along with his mouth.

Joe’s . . . the bar . . . and the man with the intense dark eyes who’d captured my attention for a fleeting moment before Matt had sauntered in. He was wearing a beanie, covering the short dark brown hair that leads down a perfectly chiseled and scruffy jaw. No wonder I hadn’t made the connection. “You’re bar guy.”

He laughs slightly. “I’d like to think I’m more than that.” He takes a step closer.

I take one back.

He grins, his eyes lighting up with amusement, but doesn’t move towards me again.

“Well, thanks for the help. I’m going to head home now and clean up. I guess I’ll see you around?” He’s too perfect, and it makes me nervous. I thought I found perfect once, only to be reminded there is no such thing.

He’s standing with his hands on his hips and a silly grin on his face. “I hope so.” His smile grows, and I give him a little wave as I escape back into reality, pushing aside the humiliating realization that I face planted at his feet. The memory reminded me that when I fall, I fall hard and men, especially men who look like Damian Walker, are dangerous to the female race.

She’s saying goodbye, and I get the feeling I shouldn’t let her go so easily. As I shake her hand and its tiny soft form grips mine tightly, I pay attention to the delicate bones and hold on for longer than socially acceptable.

She smiles.

I can’t help but smile in return.

She begins to walk away but looks back and catches me still standing there, my eyes firmly planted on her perfectly round ass. She’s tiny, maybe five foot two, and her dark brown hair, so dark it is almost black, is pulled up away from her face exposing the fine white skin on her neck. She’s got these green eyes the color of emeralds that are intoxicating. And her tits, damn, her tits would fit in the palm of my hand. I could sleep with those babies cradled between my fingers all night long.

I wonder who the Calvin Klein wanna-be she left with last night was. That second glance she just shot my way tells me he didn’t show her much of a good time.

Not that I had a stellar night, either. Moving out of the run down piece of shit home I shared with my best friend Harry Reed for the past six years was tougher than I expected. I should have moved out two years ago, but I had no reason to be on my own and prove myself to the world. Now gearing up for my twenty-ninth birthday, it’s time to grow up. Not normally a sentimental guy, I couldn’t help but feel a little melancholy at the idea of leaving the dude who’s seen me through some of my toughest moments. Heading to the bar and throwing back a few after all the boxes were packed and ready to go probably wasn’t my brightest idea.

Until I noticed her.

This tiny green-eyed beauty had been drinking out of beer bottle all night. Her lips encased around the rim of the glass, her eyes alive and content as she took in her surroundings. She’d instantly grabbed my attention. Standing mere inches away, I was about to approach her when some jackass with perfectly styled hair wearing a designer suit walked in. Her entire face changed, transforming from one of complete calmness to one of total disbelief, like the man had risen from the dead.

But that was yesterday. Today she’s standing right in front of me, and for the second time in twenty-four hours, she’s caught my interest. Unstrapping my iPod from my arm, I pocket it and move in her direction.

“Hey, wait up, I’ll walk with you.” For the past six years, my life has had some crazy highs and some bottomless lows. Watching her lips begin to curl up as I near her, I can’t help but grin in return, feeling a sense of calm settling over me and wondering what it is about her that’s drawing me in.

“Where you headed?” I run up to her.

“Just down the road.” She points in the direction of my house.

“Me too.” She continues to smile and begins to walk. I take that as an invitation to walk beside her. I’m at least a foot taller and have to slow my stride so she can keep up. “New in town?”

Her eyes widen. “Um no, I’ve lived here my whole life.”

“Lucky girl.” My fingers tap my thigh continuously, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her, find out if her skin is as soft as it looks. I knew last night she was a local; it was obvious the way she and her friends were laughing at all the people who’d come back for a few nights of debauchery for UCSB alumni weekend.

She sweeps her bangs away from her forehead, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye, her dark lashes blinking and her pace slowing.

Her smile fades a little. “Not really, just . . . circumstance.”

Damn, I want to see that sweet smile back on her pretty face, but I’m also dying to know why she doesn’t think growing up in a beautiful seaside town wasn’t the greatest hand dealt to her in life.

“Well, let’s hope your luck’s about to change now that you’ve met me.”

Her face lifts with a sudden smile, and she begins laughing. “That may be one of the cheesiest lines I’ve ever heard.”

“Hey, at least I’m honest.” I know I’m grinning from ear to ear, and I begin to walk backward so I can get a better look at her while we talk. Her smile vanishes, and her delicate, dark eyebrows instantly furrow in thought, until she realizes I’m right in front of her.

“You’re going to trip,” she chides, “and I’m not big enough to catch you.”

Her casual demeanor is back and she’s right. I am going to trip because I can’t focus on anything but her enticing lips.

I stop abruptly, and she walks right into me. My arms circle her, keeping her steady as she gets her balance. She’s laughing. It’s coming from deep in her belly, and her whole body is shaking as she lets me hold her close, her forehead resting on my chest, my body feeling a slight jolt.

“Why did you stop?” Her voice vibrates through me, and I gently tighten my arms around her.

“Because, this is my street.” I’m rocking her back and forth in my arms, my bare chest lighting up with the feel of her so close to me. She’s not pulling away and it feels . . . natural.

Pushing back on me slightly she scans where we are. Her eyes widen in surprise. “How did we get here so fast?”

I shrug. “You were so busy checking out my abs you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings. Lucky for you, I knew where I was going.”

Glaring at me, her arms across her chest, I can’t help but watch the way her breasts are pushed up higher by her arm placement. “I was not checking out your abs, boob boy.”

“What the hell is that name for?” I can’t hide the amusement in my voice.

“It means that my face is up here, not on my chest where your eyes keep wandering.” Her hand is moving around her breasts and for the moment, she’s right, I am staring at her chest because she has really nice breasts. But, that’s not what I’ve been staring at this entire walk home.

Stepping into her personal space, I stop her flailing arms and immediately grab her attention. “While your tits are definitely worthy of a little gawking, it’s your mouth I’ve been infatuated with since the moment you wrapped it around that Corona bottle last night.”

She visibly swallows, and I take another step closer, her face tilting up to look into my eyes. “And you were checking out my abs.” Watching her eyes fill with panic, I step back, and her shoulders relax at the distance I’ve placed between us. Interesting, I make her uncomfortable. Maybe it has to do with that douche she was with last night.

Looking down the street, I’m wondering which building she could possibly live in, and hoping it’s at least across the street from mine. “Show me where you live so I know where to stalk you.”

She continues to stand on the sidewalk and stare at me.

“It was a joke. I’m not going to stalk you.” Well, maybe a little, I think.

A sad look fills her eyes as a weak smile crosses her lips. Either this girl has a mood disorder or she hit her head harder than I thought. I’m about to ask if she’s okay, when she shakes off whatever demon she’d been thinking about and crosses the street.

Stopping right in front of my new building, she turns and places her hands on her hips. I think I’m about to get a lecture when instead she shocks me with her next statement. “This is my stop.”

Well fuck. This scenario can play out just one of two ways, and I’m not sure I like either one of them.

I smile and look up at the place that is now my home. “We’re neighbors.”

She nods and I get the feeling this is something she already knew. “Yep. Right. Next. Door.” She flashes a brilliant smile that settles somewhere deep in my chest. “I’ve lived here five years, and I kind of figured you must be the new guy in apartment 2B.”

Apartment 2B. I find it odd that our apartments have a number and a letter to mark them. I’m tempted to ask, but she keeps talking, and I’m really into watching her lips move.

“If you don’t have plans later today, I’m cooking dinner for a few friends. You’re welcome to join us.”

Perfect. “What ti—”

“Damian!” Reed is standing on the landing outside my front door. “Dude we’re late, and we need to get your car.”

Fucking Reed. His red hair is a wild mess and his blue eyes are clearly laughing at me, with the knowledge he just ruined my game.

If I wanted Reed to die, the look I shot him would have done the trick. His lips turn up in a mocking smile, his eyes land on Addison, and that smile turns into mischief.

“Reed, this is my neighbor, Addison Peacock. Addison, this is my idiot friend, Harry Reed.”

“Hey, sorry dude. Don’t mean to piss on your rainbow, but we’ve gotta go. If you want to be at Emily’s before lunch, you best put a fire under your ass.” He turns his attention on Addison and starts to walk down the stairs. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I don’t live here, but I’ll be crashing on the couch a lot. So if you need anything, new neighbor, don’t be afraid to ask.”

Addison can’t hold in her laugh as I smack the asshole in the head. “Give me five and we can go.” I turn my attention back to her. “I’ll have to take a rain check on that dinner and don’t worry, I won’t invite the redhead.”

“Who’s Emily?” It’s an innocent enough question, and I can sense her disappointment that I’m not staying.

“She’s a friend.”

She doesn’t push for more, despite the curious look in her eye.

We walk up the stairs together and part ways at the top. I’m walking into my apartment when she stops me.

“Hey Damian.” I turn, drawn to the sound of her soft voice. “Welcome to the building.” A smile crosses my face as she disappears behind her front door.

“Let’s hear about the chick.” Reed is driving his beat up monster truck to College Hospital where I left my 4Runner.

“She’s my neighbor.” The gas stations and diners on the side of the road blur by as we make our way north.

“That’s all you’re giving me?” Reed looks at me incredulously.

”Not much to say. I barely know her.”

Shifting my focus on Reed, he’s working his mouth back and forth contemplating something.

“Spit it out.”

He shrugs.

“Don’t shrug. What’s on your mind?” I ask.

“She’s hot.”

I belt out a laugh. “Why are you pointing out the obvious?”

“Because you seem interested, and it’s been a long time since a woman’s caught your attention.”

I look out the window. “Like you said, she’s hot. It’s impossible not to notice. But she’s not really my type.”

He taps the steering wheel with his thumb. “Right, like I believe that one. Just watch yourself; you tend to get caught up in the moment when your dick is doing the thinking for you.”

I flip my head in his direction. “Shit, Reed. I’m not some hopeless romantic.”

“No, you’re not. But you’re also blind when it comes to a nice piece of ass. Samantha Martin? Ashley Woodsmoke? Carrie Sanders? Robi—”

“Stop, I get it. We’re neighbors, that’s all.”

We drive into the parking lot, and I pull my beanie over my head. I hadn’t planned on getting involved with anyone right now, but recent events have made me take a hard look at the life I’ve lived. I almost died six years ago in an accident that could have been prevented. And while the accident stole my soccer career, my heart, and almost everything else important to me, I still haven’t lived a life I can be proud of. Addison is no doubt a beautiful woman, and she has definitely caught my attention. But if going home with men who look like they stepped off the pages of a designer magazine is her idea of a good time, neighbors is all we’ll ever be. My life is complicated, I don’t do casual, and I don’t play games. I won’t be giving myself away piece by piece. When I find the right woman, it’s going to be all or nothing.