Page 7 of Rose and the Grouch Next Door

“Right, as if paying your bills is ever a problem.” I can practically see him rolling his eyes over the phone. “Love you,too. Conner and I might plan a trip soon.” With that, he hangs up.

Sighing, I turn away from the happy pair on the beach and head back inside to crank out more words for the day. Usually, I do my best work early in the morning. Maybe this morning, Rose will serve as my muse.

I’ll admit she has me thinking of taking my writing in a different direction. Perhaps I need to give my main character, the same anti-hero, alpha male who has been my protagonist for all my novels, a love interest? Everyone needs to find love, right?

Ugh… just thinking this makes me question my man card. Am I a romance author now?

Hell no.

Best to stick with what’s got me this far in life and my career ... no romance plots, real or otherwise, for this reclusive author.

Chapter Five

Rose

“I’m making him talk to me whether he likes it or not. I’m tired of being ignored, Honeybun.”

I’m tired of just waving at Braxton on my daily walks with Honeybun, only to have him turn his back and retreat into his house as if he didn’t see me.Jerk.So rude. Everyone in our little town is friendly. That's what we do, wave and have neighborly conversations. Braxton Barrows obviously didn’t get the memo.

Brown eyes stare back at me as Honeybun lounges on the colorful quilt on my bed. His head doesn’t move, but his expressive brows and eyes track my movements back and forth from my closet to my mirror as I decide what to wear for my plan of attack.

“What do you think, sundress or daisy dukes?” The orange dress highlights my golden tan and blonde hair, but the daisy dukes are kind of my thing. I have so many pairs, they’ve become my summer staple. Our little town is pretty beach-casual. No one ever dresses up unless it's for church on Sundays, a wedding, or Lord forbid-a funeral, so my options are limited.

Honeybun tilts his head in response, seeming to disapprove of the shorts option with a slight snort.

"I wish you could talk sometimes, but I have a feeling you’d have a potty mouth and get us both in more trouble than you already do."

On second thought, talking might be a terrible idea. Pretty sure he wouldn’t have a filter. At least this way, I know he keeps all my deep, dark secrets.

Deciding on the orange dress, I quickly slip it on and tie dainty straps on my shoulders. Honeybun seems pleased with my choice, and I give him a kiss on the head before grabbing my casserole dish and heading out the door. I make sure to lock Honeybun inside for the night; he has a talent for escaping and I don't want to spend my evening chasing after him.

Nope, tonight I have a mission to complete. My plan to kill my neighbor with kindness hasn’t been working out the way Lila and I intended.

Every day I’ve been dropping off dishes as part of “Operation Neighborly Love” and every night he somehow returns the dish like some sort of phantom. I wake up the next morning with an empty casserole dish or pie plate sitting in the middle of my porch.

My doorbell camera hasn’t even been able to record him. He seems to walk up at just the right angle, making sure he’s out of view of the tiny camera. For a big man, he’s stealthy. It hurts my feelings that he feels he has to go to so much trouble just to avoid talking to me.

I've even attempted to catch him in the act, but ended up falling asleep on my couch and waking up with only a sore neck and a bad back to show for my trouble. Eventually, I decided I’m not sacrificing the comfort of my bed to catch the grump in his nightly visits.

Am I that terrible? Does he think I’m a silly little girl? I’m only trying to befriend my new neighbor, who apparently doesn’t want any friends. But I know Braxton has to be sad and lonely. The big house, all those rooms, and let’s not forget the perfect beach view he stole from me, all to himself with no one to share it with.

Well, grab hold, buddy. This is happening.I’m going to waltz up his front steps, knock on his door, and make him look me in the eye.

Armed with my grandma’s favorite casserole, I head next door. I’m nervous, but resolved that the professor zaddy is going to talk to me.

Chapter Six

Braxton

When I open my front door that evening, I’m not expecting the sunshine that’s Rose Flowers to be standing on my doorstep, let alone carrying a casserole dish. I’m surprised she rang the doorbell this time. She’s breaking her routine with a hand delivery, and I don’t like it.

Her curves are mouthwatering in an orange sundress held up by strings of fabric on each shoulder. Lord help me, this woman is enough to make the angels sing, and the rich aroma of whatever she holds in her hands is making me salivate like her damn dog. Why does she have to be so irresistible?

"Ms. Flowers, to what do I owe the pleasure?" I ask gruffly, my arms crossed in front of me, attempting to hide both my desire and delight in seeing her, thinking it would just take a simple tug of one of those orange strings to set free one luscious breast. Despite my desperate need to have her, I can’t … no, I won’t encourage her.

Rose's face flushes a pretty shade of pink, and she stutters a greeting. "H-hi, Braxton. I... I couldn't help but notice youhaven't been to Salty's, and I know you're new in town, so I thought...Well, I’ve been wanting to make sure you felt welcome and eating home-cooked meals…" Her words trail off as she adjusts the tray in her hands, her blue-green eyes darting everywhere but at me. Her shyness is endearing, though I’ll be damned if I’ll let it tempt me.

"I appreciate the effort, but I don’t need anyone to feed me. I’m perfectly capable of doing so myself.” I snap. Pissed at myself for sounding like an ungrateful asshole.

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