Page 50 of Bad Boy Neighbor

“I can’t imagine not tipping. What else?”

“Well, we drive on the other side of the road.”

“Really? But you drive here just fine.”

“I’ve practiced, but don’t for once think my heart doesn’t race when I accidentally turn onto the wrong side of the road.”

I never realized there were so many differences between the States and Australia. Now, I just want to visit to see for myself.

“What about the food?”

“Same. We don’t have as much fast food.”

The questions kept flowing. I’m desperate to learn more about him and seeing him so relaxed in conversation just makes me want to ask more questions.

“You live in Sydney? By yourself?”

He nods, leaning his elbows on the railing of the fence. “I have an apartment on the Quay. Makes it easier to travel back and forth to the stadium.”

I let out a loose laugh, almost a snort. “Is it a bachelor pad? Decorated in faux fur with a revolving bed playing Marvin Gaye when you dim the lights?”

“Perhaps you’re confusing me with Prince Charming.”

“Nicholas lives with his parents,” I inform him, unsure as to why. “The King Manor is the second-largest house in the county.”

“What’s the largest?”

“My parents’ house.”

He lets out a whistle. “Must be below you to hang out with a poor boy like me.”

“Money isn’t everything,” I remind him.

Oliver gazes at me, observing my reaction to his comment. Money isn’t everything, though so much of me doesn’t know how to exist without it. I was born into an incredibly wealthy family, and never once have I had to worry about my financial future.

That is—until now.

Oliver tugs on my hand. “Come on, let’s continue to walk around the trail.”

We stroll at an easy pace, talking about Oliver’s life back home. He speaks so fondly of his family—a conditional love I can’t comprehend.

We reach a small clearing with a food vendor selling ice cream and sodas, yet we walk past to see what other food is on offer until we spot an older couple arguing. The man looks embarrassed as his wife carries on, loud enough so everyone can hear.

“Oh, that poor man. What a bitch. Did she just tell him to get her a hot dog ‘you fat bastard’?”

I laugh, hearing the same thing. “I’d say they’ve been married for a while, and she controls the marriage.”

“Ain’t gonna be like that for me. My woman is going to be all class, not a raving lunatic like her.”

The thought of Oliver considering marriage is music to my ears. Not that I expected us to get married, but knowing he’s open to commitment seals the uncertainty wavering over me. This isn’t just an unwarranted fling. My feelings stem deeper. They have buried their roots and firmly planted a seed impossible to ignore.

“So, I accidentally saw the email on your computer screen,” I mention, hoping he’ll continue to be honest with me. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re seeing a specialist? I thought the injury was final?”

Oliver looks taken aback, the laughter evaporating from his eyes. His customary warmth gone faster than summer rain on the asphalt. Even his focus is somewhere on the people behind me as if I have become invisible to him, or he can’t bear to look at me at all. I’ve crossed some invisible line, offending him, but I am unsure why.

“You snooped my emails?” he barks, dropping my hand.

“I didn’t snoop. I was moving your laptop.”

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