Page 9 of Neighbors With Benefits

He held the phone up. “It’s technically a work phone. I try not to use it for personal stuff. But I’ll make an exception for you.”

Was he flirting? He said it very matter-of-factly, but I felt a tingle of warmth at the idea that he would make an exception forme. Suddenly it seemed very silly for me to have doubted him at all in the first place.

“Sorry for being so pushy,” I said.

“It’s fine. I really need to go make dinner, though.”

“Wait!” I said. “What are you making?”

“Something easy. Probably just pasta in red sauce.”

“I’m making pasta too!” I said. “It’s my special penne alla vodka. The water’s literally boiling right now. How about you join me?”

He stood up a little straighter at the invitation, clearly intrigued. Then he glanced over his shoulder and said, “Well, I’m making dinner for Bash too…”

“He can come,” I quickly said. “I always make way too much food. You’ll save me from having to eat leftovers all week. And then you won’t have to make dinner yourself.”

“Yeah,” Aiden said, nodding slowly. “That actually sounds great.”

There was an awkward moment where we both sort of smiled at each other, content in our agreement.

“Well, come on over whenever!” I said. “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

I went back inside and immediately went intocleaning mode. My house was still in good condition after the party yesterday, but there were a few things I needed to tidy up to make it presentable for two unexpected guests. I finished just as the guys knocked on the front door and then let themselves inside.

“Welcome!” I called while straining the pasta.

“We come bearing gifts,” Aiden said, hefting a bottle of wine. Bash waved a foil package of garlic bread.

“Carbs and wine. My two favorite food groups.”

“Smells amazing in here!” Bash said, grinning as they joined me in the kitchen. “We brought a cab sauv to go with dinner. Thanks for having us over again, Jazz. If you feed me a third day in a row, you’ll officially be my favorite neighbor.”

“Even more than Ms. Porter across the street?” Aiden asked.

“Especially so,” Bash replied.

Aiden leaned against the fridge next to where I was stirring the sauce. He crossed his arms and told me, “Ms. Porter is in love with Bash. About once a week she asks him to come over and fix something.”

“And then she tries totake me to bed,” Bash added. “And when I ignore all her not-so-subtle advances, she squeezes my ass on the way out the door.”

I looked over my shoulder at Bash, who was leaning on the counter. “Really?”

“Ms. Porter is in her eighties,” Aiden explained.

“I think of it as community service,” Bash said with a smile. “Some people volunteer at soup kitchens. I put on a tight-fitting T-shirt and flirt with a lonely old woman who just wants a little fire in her life again.”

“One of these days she’s going to wear you down,” Aiden warned.

Bash’s laugh was lighthearted. “Maybe so! I’ve seen photos of her when she was young. She couldget it. She was a ballerina.” He winked at me. “Very flexible.”

I giggled and moved the garlic bread to a baking sheet. “This is really helpful. You guys were the only neighbors who came to my housewarming party, so I need you to give me the scoop on everyone else.”

“Guuuurl,” Bash said, “you know we like to gossip.”

Aiden planted his palms on the counter next to the stove and raised himself up until he was sitting on the edge with his feet hanging off, just a few inches to the left of where I was stirring sauce by the stove. “Ms. Porter is really nice to everyone, not just Bash. She gives out Christmas cookies to everyone on the street every year.”

“Definitely an A-tier neighbor,” Bash agreed. “Along with Kevin.”

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