Page 1 of Rockstar Next Door Neighbor

One

Lila

The engine groans slightly as I pull into the parking lot ofShot in the Dark, a quirky name for a pub. My older car is stuffed to the brim with everything I own. It looks hilariously out of place between two gleaming SUVs.

I switch off the ignition, and the car does its customary shudder. Leaning forward, I lovingly pat the dashboard. “Agatha, we made it! Thanks, old girl.”

Taking a deep breath, I pull down the visor mirror and finger-comb the loose blonde strands. Today marks the start of something new—something terrifying and exciting.Jacksonville is going to be my fresh start—no more small-town limitations. I can do this.

Before I lose my nerve, I grab my purse and step out into the warm Florida sun, spotting Emily Ryder almost instantly. She’s waiting near the entrance with a baby carrier that cradles Presley, her adorable infant with soft red fuzz and rosy cheeks. Emily spots me and waves enthusiastically, her smile bright and welcoming.

“Lila!” she calls, stepping forward. “You made it!”

“Emily!” I wave back, my nerves easing at the sight of her. She’s the kind of person whose energy fills a room—or, in this case, a parking lot. “And how’s baby Presley?” I coo, smiling at the baby.

Emily shakes her head ruefully. “She’s only six months old and already running my life.”

“She’s perfect,” I say, reaching out to gently touch the baby’s tiny hand. Presley grabs onto my finger with surprising strength, and we both laugh. “Looks like she has her mom’s grip on things.”

“Literally and figuratively,” Emily jokes, her blue eyes sparkling. “Come on, let’s get inside before Presley decides she’s hungryagain.”

I follow Emily toward the entrance, my heart lifting a little with each step. It’s been months since I last saw her and her husband, Sam Ryder, at his father’s farm. They had brought the baby down to meet Clay. Yet, Emily feels like an old friend. She insisted I call her if I decided to move to Jacksonville, promising to show me around and help me settle in. True to her word, here we are.

Emily balances the carrier expertly as she opens the door, stepping inside and holding it for me. The pub looks amazing—with dozens of screens around the interior, each showing a different channel, but the sound is muted.

As I continue to glance around the friendly pub, the tension I’ve been carrying since I packed up my car begins to melt away. Emily nods toward a booth near the window, already smiling.

“Let’s grab that one. It’s easier to squeeze Presley’s carrier in.”

We weave through the tables and settle into the booth.

“I’m glad I’m finally here,” I say, placing my purse on the seat beside me. “It feels like a lifetime ago since we saw each other. So much has changed since then.”

Emily tilts her head, her blue eyes warm with curiosity. “Like deciding to move to Jacksonville? That’s huge! What made you finally take the plunge?”

I laugh softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I just needed a change. Ocala’s great, but I felt stuck. I’ve always wanted to try my hand at being a private chef, and when you mentioned Jacksonville—it felt like the right place to start.”

“It’s the perfect place,” Emily agrees, nodding. “There’s such a demand for private chefs here. You’ll have clients lining up in no time.”

Her words are encouraging, but a small part of me still worries about the leap I’ve taken. “I hope you’re right. My car’s loaded with everything I own. If this doesn’t work out, I’ll be back home before I know it.”

Emily waves off my concern, her confidence infectious. “You’re going to crush it. I still dream about that cupcake you made at the barn dance. If that’s any indication, you’ll be booked solid in no time.”

I smile, feeling a bit more at ease. “Thanks, Emily. I needed to hear that.”

The server swings by, dropping off our menus and taking our drink orders—iced tea for both of us. We scan the selections, and by the time our food arrives, it’s like no time has passed since we last saw eachother.

Emily is easy to talk to, and I find myself sharing my plans for the future: the kind of clients I hope to work for, the dishes I’ve been perfecting, and my dream of running a small business. She listens intently, asking questions and offering advice as we polish off our meals. If anyone can help me with my business, it’s Emily. She’s successfully managed the Wild Band for over a year.

“Presley is a perfect little angel,” I tell Emily, who gives me a proud smile.

“Thanks.” She rolls her eyes. “But she can be a terror when she wants to be.”

After lunch, Emily insists on following me to my car. She wants to see just how much I managed to cram into it. “This I have to see,” she says, laughing as she picks up the baby carrier.

We step into the afternoon sun, the heat wrapping around us. I lead her to the corner of the lot where my old car sits, with its faded paint and one hubcap missing.

“There she is,” I say, gesturing with a flourish. “Agatha. She doesn’t look like much, but she gets me where I need to go.”

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