Page 44 of Faking it with my Off Limits Neighbor

Of course, Troy is treating me like a queen. He always has, though. From the very first time he spoke to me in Milly’s bedroom, he’s always made me feel like I was the only person in the room. Back then, his friends always competed for his attention. Now, it’s just me and Troy, and things feel even better than before.

Earlier this morning, we sat in his kitchen drinking coffee and eating eggs Benedict. I’ll be honest: I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never actually tasted it, and it was delicious. If that’s the standard Troy cooks at, I can only imagine his restaurant is going to be booked out every night.

“What have you got planned today?” he says, taking the dishes to the sink.

“It’s Wednesday. I’m going over to help Dad.”

“Oh,” he replies flatly. It’s a strange reply, but understandable, I suppose. They never did see eye to eye.

“You should come with me. He’d love to see you,” I say sarcastically.

“I think I’d prefer to gouge my eyeballs out with this fork.” He waves a fork around, and I burst into laughter.

“Oh, come on. He’s not that bad,” I say, standing up and straightening my skirt.

“Have you told him about us yet?” Troy asks. He’s smirking, and there’s a twinkle in his eye.

“No,” I concede, “but I’m biding my time.”

“Oh yes?” he says teasingly. “Until when? The wedding?”

My eyes fly wide open, and Troy suddenly looks bashful. “I’m kidding.”

I see his face bloom bright red, and all I can do is laugh. Moving over to him, I wrap my arms around him. He bends his head and gives me a soft, tender kiss that sends tingles all the way to my toes.

“I’ve got to go.”

“You sure?” he growls, a smile dancing at the corner of his lips.

“Not really,” I say with a deep sigh.

He wraps his arms tighter around my body. I feel safe and protected, like nothing in the world could ever hurt me again. I don’t want to go. In fact, the way I’m feeling, I never want to leave his side again. But needs must, and I have responsibilities.

I wiggle out of his embrace, reach up on my tiptoes, and lightly kiss his cheek. As I turn and walk away, I call over my shoulder. “I’ll pick up some bridal magazines on my way back.”

I’m at the front door when I hear him say, “You’re hilarious.” Which just sets me off laughing.

* * *

I find Dad where I usually find him. Sitting in his easy chair, reading the paper.

“You’re late,” he says without looking up from his paper.

“‘ Hi, Charlie, how are you?’” I say sarcastically. “‘Great, Dad. How are you?’ ‘Just as grumpy as usual, Charlie. Thanks for asking.’”

He cocks an eye over his paper and smirks. “You’re still late.”

“I do have a life, you know. I have a car and a mortgage to pay for, which means I have to work.” A part of me wants to add that he wouldn’t know much about that, but I bite my tongue. I’m in too good of a mood to let him get to me. “Are you ready to go?”

“I’ve been ready for a half hour,” he quips back.

“Oh, cry me a river.” I roll my eyes and gather his things.

We do the usual shopping, or I should say, I do the usual shopping while Dad stands at the counter and talks to Mr. Shore. I’m far quicker this time because I’m not hiding behind the cereal shelf trying to avoid running into Troy.

At the counter, Mr. Shore smiles widely at me. “I hear you’re working hard these days, Charlie?”

There’s something in his tone that puts my guard up, and I’m suddenly wary. “Oh, you know me, Mr. Shore. I’m always working hard.”

---