Page 30 of Sexy Bad Neighbor

“I think she saw you and decided she wanted to have nothing to do with me.” I’m not going to waste my time trying to convince her that I’m worth her time when she’s obviously more interested in landing a guy who’ll further her career and whatever the hell else she thinks is so important.

“That’s probably because I’m her boss. She’s a partner in training, and she works directly under me.”

“Please don’t say under like you’re on top of her.”

My normally unruffled brother hoots. “You’re taken with her.”

“Nope.” There’s nothing to be taken with. She was transparent about how she felt about being with me. I don’t know why I wasted my time with her. I glance at James’s ball lying a mere yard from the hole. “I believe you’re up.”

Sliding his iron back in his bag, he pulls out his putter. “I’m not surprised she freaked out at the idea of dating her boss’s brother. Work is her life. But I like the idea of you two together. It actually makes sense and might help her loosen up a little. Just don’t be an ass to her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look, I like Chloe. She’s fantastic at her job. Dedicated. Probably the hardest worker I know. But she puts herself under a lot of stress.” The little white ball travels over the green before tipping into the hole. “I’ve been trying to get her to go out and socialize, to do something that isn’t wrapped up in work, but she’s got a bee in her bonnet.” He puts away his putter. “She came into the job with some serious hang-ups.”

He lifts his palm as I open my mouth to ask what he thinks her problem is. “I don’t know what, I don’t want to know. Unless she wants to tell me, it’s none of my business. All I’m saying is, she has something to prove to someone, maybe only to herself, but it isn’t going to be easy for her to let it go.”

“What makes you think she wants to let it go?” I knock my ball across the green and watch it circle the hole. Either my brother is wiser than the rest of us give him credit for or this should be fair warning to stay the hell away from my sexy neighbor. The last thing I want to be is some woman’s chess piece on her way to proving herself. But given how she ran when Garrett was ranting about Bernadette, and the way she took off after James came to my house with a wild, fearful, glazed look in her eyes, I’m not as certain it’s directed at me.

***

I’m raking leaves in my front yard. Dragging them into a pile and then gathering up heaping armfuls and tossing them into the bin. Most of my neighbors pay gardeners to come in and do yardwork for them, but I enjoy the chill in the air and the damp sweat that sticks my clothes to my skin with a bit of hard work. The fresh outdoor scent is invigorating, even if it doesn’t clear my mind the way I hoped it would.

Neither had Mom’s key lime pie and freshly brewed coffee when I stopped in to check on them on my way back from golf with James. What he said about Chloe has my brain wrapped up in knots. I glance at her house every now and then as I tackle the huge pile of fall leaves. Red, brown, and orange crackle and crunch in my gloved hands. I should probably consider whether I want to decorate for Halloween soon. Instead of considering whether I should go talk to Chloe. What’s there to say, anyway? It’s not like she wasn’t clear about the fact I’d only get in the way of what she wants.

Propping myself up with the rake, I wipe the back of my wrist over my forehead to dash away perspiration. The air might be chilly, but it’s a beautiful day and the sun still has kick to it. I shed my shirt and tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans.

A dog yaps somewhere close by, and I turn to see that same orange fluffball and its owner from the morning I made a mad dash to Chloe’s in my pajama pants. Both of them gawk at me before sticking up their noses and continuing down the path. I hold in a laugh; both human and dog manage to have the same expression. The women in this neighborhood could host a competition to see who has the biggest pole shoved up their ass, and I’m pretty sure that prissy dog would come a close second.

“I can’t believe you would do this.” Chloe barges into my yard. “You have some nerve. I thought I made myself clear.”

If the woman walking her dog had issues with my half-naked state, I bet the look she gave Chloe was a lot worse. Dressed in one of those suits she favors and a pair of heels that sink into the ground with each step she takes toward me, Chloe shoots me a glare that would kill if facial expressions had that power. In her hand she holds the end of a length of rope. At the other end is a kid. By that I mean she’s walking a baby goat. On a leash. As if that’s a completely normal thing to do.

“Nice, uh, pet?” I smirk.

“Don’t you dare.” She hauls on the rope and the goat bleats and trots behind her. “Don’t smirk. This isn’t funny.” She throws one arm back, gesturing at the road. “Helena Warburton, whose ex-husband is a managing director at Goldman Sachs, just saw me walking a goat. Can you imagine what she’s going to tell the other neighbors?”

“I can’t say I particularly care what that woman thinks or has to say. She should mind her own business.”

“Well, I care, and I can’t believe you would go this far.” She comes to an abrupt halt in front of me, and the goat starts munching on a leaf.

“Wait.” Is she blaming me for that woman catching her walking her goat? “You think I had something do with this?”

“Of course you did. Why are you pretending you didn’t?” She scowls. “This is obviously one of your pranks. You set this creature loose in my yard to get back at me because I told you I don’t want to see you.”

“Hold up.” I drop to a crouch and pet the goat’s head. It nuzzles my hand before going back to grazing. I almost wish it were one of my pranks. “However this little guy got into your yard had nothing to do with me.”

“It didn’t?” She stares down at me, slack-jawed. “You didn’t put it in my yard?”

“No, I didn’t.” Standing up, I push my thumbs through my belt loops. “Do you think I’m so desperate to have you yell at me again that I’d pull a stunt like this? Believe me, if I wanted an earful, I would have knocked on your door, sweetheart.”

Which was what I’d been close to doing before our four-legged friend intervened.

“I-I thought you wanted…” She shakes her head, clearing whatever she was considering. “Never mind. What am I supposed to do with a goat?”

“Looks to me like you have it sorted.” I chuckle at the idea of her keeping it as a pet, walking it around the neighborhood and feeding it out of a dog bowl.

“I can’t keep it.” Her voice rises several octaves. “And this isn’t funny.”

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