Page 11 of Sexy Bad Neighbor

CHAPTER FOUR

PAYNTER

Is she fucking serious?

Laying my laptop bag down against the front door, I march toward my BMW M6. Taped across the windshield in a pattern of colors are little foil squares. I run my fingers through my hair before taking off my glasses and giving them a quick clean with my shirttail. Putting them back on doesn’t change the fact that she’s treated the one splurge I’ve made for my actual enjoyment with contempt.

It doesn’t change the fact that there’s a blow-up sex doll plastered to the hood and held in place by zip ties either. It’s partially blown up, its arms and legs kind of flat compared to its body. The doll’s head is twisted to face my door, her hole of a mouth gaping at me as if to say, I can’t believe she’d do this either.

And yes, those foil squares are condoms.

Fuck me.

God, I hope those ties she stuck the damn doll on with haven’t destroyed the paint, but it’s still damp and windy this morning after the storm that rolled through late last night, so they’ve probably been rubbing at it for hours. Never mind what the homeowners’ association will think if one of them happens to drive by now. I shake my head and stare up at the dirty scatter of clouds sprayed across the sky. Of course, that’s what she’s aiming for, isn’t it? It’s the only thing that makes sense for why she would have spent time putting together such an elaborate practical joke out in the pounding rain. She wants to get me in trouble with the HOA, because even though we had a perfectly good moment and I thought maybe she’d found a sense of humor when she pulled her last little prank, she’s still completely in love with the idea that I’m scum.

Well, screw her. While I don’t particularly care what a bunch of pretentious twats think of me, I do understand the value of not making my life any more difficult than it needs to be while I’m living in this neighborhood. I’m not here to make friends, especially not with someone as uptight as Chloe, but at the same time I don’t need something like this putting me in the association’s bad books either.

I glance toward the end of my driveway, fully expecting to see her there with victory written all over her face, those lips of hers turned up in a smirk.

It’s possible she’s unhinged, pulling this over-the-top prank. She’d had to have gotten soaked while she taped all those squares to my windshield. Wetter than when I kissed her a couple days ago. It was raining then, too. Fat drops that slid down her face, clinging to her skin and her hair before dripping onto her shoulders and that little sliver of skin at the collar of her shirt. She was so damn adamant that she knew exactly what type of man I am, that it made me want to make sure she understood I’m not the man she’s trying to paint me as.

And she was staring at me, at my mouth, and I’d been too close not to get a whiff of her perfume, of the soft, feminine scent of her skin. Too near not to notice how her eyes darkened, or that, for some reason I couldn’t quite fathom, a current of heat passed between us.

I couldn’t let her walk away without making sure she knew at least one truth about me. But I had not expected her to give in to the kiss. Hell, she did more than give in. She slid her tongue into my mouth while she gripped my shirt and tried to rub herself against my cock. Obviously, it’s been a while for her. And for me, because if the grill hadn’t caught fire, I’m not sure I would have let her go so easily. Not even with all those other women in my house.

When she doesn’t appear at the end of my driveway now to gloat, I head back into the house, picking my laptop up on the way. I still have a few packing boxes in the basement. Let’s see how she handles me giving her back her sordid sex doll.

It takes a while to carefully peel off every condom and toss them in the box, but at least the tape is easy to clean up. The blow-up doll comes away easily enough as well, without any damage to the paint. I’m equal parts grateful and impressed by the level of care she’s taken to keep from causing any real vandalism. It’s as though she isn’t out to do anything more than one-up me. I can appreciate the humor in her little act of sabotage. Unfortunately for her, I’ve had years of practice at getting even with my siblings. If she thinks I won’t do her one better, she’s got another thing coming, but it’ll have to wait since I need to meet Garrett. For now, returning her supplies will have to be enough.

Once everything is packed in the box, I stride across the lawn toward her house. She still hasn’t made her presence known, but her Cadillac CT6 is parked outside. I stalk straight past the sleek charcoal sedan.

Her house isn’t as imposing as mine, although even its smaller size still screams of this pretentious Stepford neighborhood, from its hewn stone walls and its white pillared balcony over the front door, right down to the large brass knocker that I ignore in favor of using my fist.

I jostle the box under my arm while I wait for her to answer. It doesn’t take too long before she opens the door. “What are you doing here?”

Her question throws me, or perhaps it’s the shortness of her skirt or how the top buttons on the pinstriped shirt she’s wearing are undone while the material clings to her breasts in a way that makes me imagine what she’s hiding underneath it. My brain sort of freezes up with the imbalance of blood pumping in that direction. Then it sparks to life. Sure we shared a kiss. One hell of a kiss I’ve enjoyed replaying a little too much, but she’s still a stuck-up snob who just defiled my car.

“If you want to have sex with me, all you have to do is ask, sweetheart.” I thrust the box at her. “I’m certain we could make a good dent in your condom supply. I’m not exactly sure what you were thinking with the blow-up doll, but I could probably come up with a few things.”

“I wasn’t. I don’t…” She pushes the box back at me, her cheeks going red while she glances past me out to the street. It’s as if she’s expecting people to jump out from hiding and catch her in the midst of a scandal. “I don’t want to have sex with you.”

“Sure you do. Otherwise you would have picked toilet paper or Post–It notes for your prank, not condoms.”

Her eyes widen and she clenches her hands by her sides. “I thought you could use them since you’re such a ladies’ man. I’m sure you must go through a ton of them with the way you treat women.”

“With the way I treat women?” I choke on my laughter. She seriously has no fucking clue, and I’m not sure I care to enlighten her. Not when it’s clear she truly is another one of those pretentious stuck-up women I want absolutely nothing to do with. “And what about the way you treat men? Doesn’t it ever get old to judge every man you come across by some ridiculous yardstick? Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘to assume is to make an ass out of you and me’?”

“I’m not wrong about you. I’m not.” The tense muscles in her biceps push her tits together, which serves to make them stand out and harder to look away from. Her spine goes insanely straight, and it makes me want to dig my fingers into her sleek hair, bend her back, and kiss her again. She looked amazing that day she wasn’t perfectly put together, and stunningly beautiful freshly kissed. I have the hankering to see her lose this rigid, straitlaced shell she’s wearing, but she takes a step closer, glaring at me. “You think because you have a pretty face that life should come easily to you, that women and power and prestige should come easily to you.”

“No, sweetheart, that’s you. I’m not interested in any of that.” I’ve never wasted my time on dreaming about being wealthy, or living a life where I make friends with people who will stab me in the back if it gets them ahead.

It doesn’t matter that Chloe’s attractive or that the idea of kissing her makes it so I can practically taste Malbec and something a little sweeter and ultimately her; she’s one of those people I don’t want in my life.

I ignore my taste buds’ fading memory as I push the box at her. “Excuse me if I don’t stand here arguing with you. You’ve made up your mind about me, and I can say the same.”

“No.” She takes a step back, moving farther into her house as she grips the door, preparing to shut it on me. “I’m not taking that.”

“Sure you are.”

---