Page 4 of Rose and the Grouch Next Door

Now feeling awkward, I apologize profusely and beg my dog to please get out of Braxton’s pool. Just as expected, Honeybun continues to ignore me. I’m now fighting the urge to laugh hysterically because this whole situation is turning into a real-life sitcom episode.

Cue the weird, wacky music and overdone canned laughter.

Except my handsome god/professor isn’t laughing. At all. If anything, he’s actually glowering.

That’s a shame, too, because he has such a handsome face. Doesn’t he know he’s going to give himself wrinkles on his forehead if he keeps frowning like that?

I get it though. Honeybun’s a lot. My dog is so freaking adorable, but he’s constantly getting us into trouble.

Since Braxton moved in, I’ve been catching fleeting glances of him. He never makes eye contact with me though, as if he doesn’t want to talk, so I’ve left him alone.

If he doesn’t want to be neighborly, who am I to change him? Seriously, I don’t want to talk to him either, and I talk to everyone. I’m still angry he built his stupid house next to mine.

Extremely extroverted, probably overly talkative, I make friends everywhere I go, especially working at Sea Shanty Cove’s local bar, Salty’s Taproom.

Up until now, I’d been determined not to acknowledge the new inhabitant of the home, either. I’m not normally rude. The residents of our quaint little town even call me “sunshine” for my sweet and happy disposition.

From dogs to the elderly, I can handle it. Hold a conversation with a handsome stranger?

Nope. Not this gal. Instead, I’m making an idiot of myself, continuing to stumble over my words, and apologizing for Honeybun’s bad behavior. On the bright side, at least Honeybun is getting exercise, even if it’s at the expense of my dignity.

I’m pleading with my devil dog, who is now doing laps in the crystal-clear water like some sort of Olympian in training. My hands rest on my hips, my foot tapping impatiently on the warm tiles lining the edge of the large swimming pool. This new ritual of hisiskind of funny, but the grump next door isn’t in agreement.

Finally, I’m forced to wade into the pool to gather Honeybun under the hostile gaze of my neighbor. Because my dog is unfazed, he continues to paddle around with that characteristic boxer grin plastered across his sopping wet face.

But even with my frustration with Honeybun and annoyance towards the owner of the pool, I can’t help the attraction that ignites somewhere deep inside me when I finally emerge from the pool and find myself standing within touching distance of Braxton Barrows.

His presence is disarming, sending a jolt of electricity down my spine, leaving me both embarrassed and intrigued. His gaze is hypnotic, his ice-blue eyes framed by those glasses seem to see right through to my soul.

Holy moly.As quickly as the lightning bolt moment happens, he abruptly clears his throat and steps away as if he, too, can feel the attraction.

After chastising us, his commanding voice deep and sending shivers down my spine, for using his precious “non-public” pool, Honeybun and I take our leave. On my side of the fence, I stop to catch my breath, my puppy impatiently yanking at his leash.

For over a year, I’ve been upset that my once-tranquil view of the bay was being blocked by the large, over-the-top house being built next door. A pang of longing twists inside me.

When I finally moved out of my parents’ home into their small rental cottage, I loved the independence, but was most excited about the view. I enjoyed every sunrise and sunset from my back patio with the water providing the perfect Zen moments to both start and end every day. It was perfect.

Then, the construction crews began showing up, working on the monstrous house. I was forced to watch as my view of the ocean dwindled to the ugly sight of the back of a three-story home with fencing, landscaping, and a gigantic swimming pool. Every day, I felt myself growing ??angrier and angrier at my unknown neighbor.

How dare they ruin my peace and take my million-dollar view?

But thanks to my silly animal, I’m now forced to interact with the handsome, enigmatic, grump, and part of me isn’t entirely mad about it. Just looking at the man makes my heart race, my greedy vagina clench, and makes me very, very determined to make the crotchety man smile.

Chapter Three

Rose

I'm elbow-deep in salt shakers when my best friend, co-worker and boss, Lila, slides into our favorite corner booth at Salty's Taproom. We have to prep for the dinner crowd, and we've got a system going. I fill the salt shakers and she folds silverware into the napkins while the buzz of afternoon chatter of day-drinking patrons swirls around us.

"Girl, you would not believe the morning I had," I grumble, spilling a little too much salt on the table. I swipe it up, shaking my head at my clumsiness.

"Tell me everything. I’m ready for some good ol’ Sea Shanty Cove gossip.” She leans in eagerly.

"First, Honeybun has found a new way to get in trouble. Every darn morning it's the same routine." I can't help but laugh, despite my irritation. "He’s dead set on a daily swim in my neighbor's pool."

"Ah, the guy who built that huge house next to yours?" Lila asks, her smile widening as if she can already sense the storybrewing. “Spill it, Rose. Is he hot?” Lila's voice is sly, her eyebrows dancing playfully as she leans closer across the table.

"Hot?" I echo, feeling my cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. "He's like walking, talking, zaddy territory, with a dash of hot professor in glasses added to the mix." I fiddle with a shaker, trying to play it cool but failing. "But he's got this scowl plastered on his face, and I swear he's allergic to smiling."

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