Page 1 of Dreams on the Ice

Chapter

One

BROOKLYNN

I knowI should absolutely not be doing this, and yet it’s exactly what I’m doing.

This.

I’ve tried to stay away from the neighbors. They’re all superhot and really nice, but I’m of the mindset that you don’t shit where you eat. So, the fact that I’m super lusty for Forrest is a bit of a problem.

My former roommates had no issues with it, though. It worked out well for them when they dated and fell in love with the guys across the street, but nothing like that ever works out for me, so it’s best if I keep admiring from afar.

As I stand at the front window in my living room, watching Forrest as he walks from his house to his car, I inwardly swoon. He’s wearing athletic shorts and a skintight T-shirt. He looks absolutely amazing in every way possible. The only way he could look better would be if he had a little sweat covering his body… if he were naked… and if he were on top of me.

God.

He’s sexy as shit.

He stops at the driver’s door and turns his head, his eyes slowly lifting to meet mine. He knows I’m watching him, or maybe he’s hoping I am. I’m not sure. But at the same time, I stare. Because he’s so damn beautiful.

Then he smirks.

He must see me.

I almost lift my hand to wave but decide against it, so instead, I just stare—and I stare hard. But then he breaks eye contact first, opens his car door, and slips inside. All contact is lost, even though I don’t want it to be. I continue to watch him as he starts the car, revs the engine, and thenzoom… he’s gone.

Shaking my head a few times, I turn away from the window, then gather my purse and keys and leave as well. Since I’m a complete creeper, I know he’s going to go and work out. Meanwhile, I am heading to work. I need to forget he exists. He’s my neighbor and my friend.

Nothing more, nothing less, no matter how he looks at me.

No matter how badly I want him to touch me. No matter how much I crave his taste. We are nothing more than friends because I don’t shit where I eat. And that’s that.

Except… why do I want him to break through my front door and slam his mouth against mine in a hard kiss? Why do I want him to carry me out of my salon midafternoon, take me home, and fuck me against the wall,AnOfficer and a Gentlemanstyle?

Why do I have to press my thighs together when he’s anywhere near me?

Why? Why? Why?

Gripping my steering wheel as I drive, I hear it crackle beneath my grasp. I inhale a deep breath and hold it for a moment, then let it out slowly.

I need to chill.

I need to focus on work.

I have a full day of clients ahead of me, and the last thing they need is for their stylist to be daydreaming about some guy she’s never going to get with because I am never going to get with Forrest Westwood, even though he’s hot as all hell.

I pull into my parking spot and shift my car intoParkbefore I turn off the engine and grab my purse. Pushing the door open, I hitch my bag over my shoulder and move toward the back entrance of the salon.

The other girls are already here. They always are. I can’t seem to make myself schedule my first appointments until eleven in the morning, which is dumb because I end up working late every single night.

But I like to stay up late and sleep in. It’s a bad habit that I’ve gotten into, and since I’m self-employed, I’ve been able to facilitate my bad habits and still make money. It’s stupid. I really should be keeping decent hours. But I have a few clients who like to come in after work, so it’s a win-win.

“She appears,” June calls out.

Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I let out a huff of air before I move straight for my station and begin setting my things up for the day. Thankfully, June doesn’t say anything else. I love her, I really do, but she’s one to talk. She was late for three of her clients last week, and I didn’t say shit. Not even in teasing.

Once I have my purse stowed away in the bottom cabinet, I take my apron off the hook on the wall and put it on, running my fingers down the supple leather. The full leather apron was a gift from my mother for graduating cosmetology school. She wanted to make sure I had something luxurious. It’s as soft as butter, and I absolutely love it.

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