Page 3 of Rockstar Next Door Neighbor

“Don’t let her matchmaking scare you off,” he says. “The duplex really would be perfect for you. It’s safe, private, and close to everything, and you’d have us nearby if you need anything.”

I bite my lip, considering. A place on the beach has always been a dream of mine, but it seemed impossible on a starting chef’s budget. “Can I at least see it first?”

“Of course!” Emily claps her hands together. “We can go right now. Sam, you okay with Presley?”

He waves us off. “Go. We’ll have some daddy-daughter time.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re standing in front of a charming yellow duplex with white trim. The sound of waves crashes nearby, and I can smell the salt in the air. The left unit’s small front porch has a swing, and tropical plants frame the entrance.

“This would be yours,” Emily says, unlocking the door and punching in a security code. “The one on the left.”

I step inside and immediately fall in love. The space is open and bright, with hardwood floors and large windows that let in natural light. It’s already furnished with sturdy, comfortable furniture. The kitchen, though small, is updated with stainless steel appliances and plenty of counter space. A sliding glass door inthe living room leads to a deck with an unobstructed view of the ocean.

“Emily,” I whisper, “this is lovely.”

She beams. “I knew you’d love it. There’s also a bedroom and office upstairs, plus a half bath down here and full bath up there.”

I run my hand along the kitchen counter, already imagining the meals I could create here. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just be a good tenant.” She pauses, then adds more seriously, “The band purchased this place thinking the band or crew could stay here when not on tour. Nate lived here for a while but found something he liked better, and Vince—well, Vince is a playboy, so this was a bit too laid back for him.”

I turn to face her, overwhelmed by everything—the move, the apartment, the possibility of living this close to the ocean. “You really think this could work?”

Emily pulls me into a hug. “I know it will. Welcome to your new home, Lila.”

Standing in this beautiful space, with the ocean breeze drifting through the windows and new possibilities hanging in the air,I finally feel like I’ve made the right choice. Jacksonville isn’t just a fresh start—it’s exactly where I’m meant to be.

Two

Luke

I’m running late to Sam and Emily’s, as usual. The sun’s setting over Jacksonville Beach as I pull into their gravel drive, casting everything in that golden Florida light. The house smells amazing before I even get through the door—something savory and rich that makes my stomach growl.

“Look who finally showed up,” Vince calls out from his spot on the couch, barely glancing up from his phone. Typical Vince, who is probably griping again about some social media drama.

“Traffic,” I lie, grinning as I make my way to the kitchen where everyone’s gathered. The truth is I lost track of time working on a new arrangement, but they’re used to that by now.

Emily’s at the island, organizing what looks like a spread fit for royalty. “Luke! Perfect timing—everything’s ready.”

Cass and Kendrick are there with their daughter Cassidy, who’s grown a few inches since I last saw her. Sam’s manning the grill outside through the sliding glass doors, and Nate’s helping him, both of them laughing about something.

But what catches my attention are the appetizers laid out on the counter. “Holy shit, Emily. Did you take a cooking class or something?”

She laughs. “Not me. Just wait until you try them.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I snag what looks like a stuffed mushroom and pop it in my mouth. The flavor hits me like a chord progression—layers of herbs, cheese, and something else I can’t quite place but tastes amazing.

“Damn! Who made these? I think I’m in love,” I declare, reaching for another one.

I hear a soft laugh. “I’m glad you like them.”

Thevoice comes from behind me, soft and pleased, with just a hint of a Southern drawl. I turn around, and suddenly I’m not thinking about food anymore.

She’s tiny, probably a foot shorter than me, but curves for days in a sundress that hugs everything just right. Blonde hair falls in waves past her shoulders, and her brown hazel eyes meet mine briefly before dropping away, a pretty blush spreading across her cheeks. She’s holding a tray of something that smells incredible, but I can’t take my eyes off her face.

“I, uh...” Smooth, Luke. Real smooth. I clear my throat and try again. “Did you make these?”

“I did,” she says softly, setting down her tray and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m Lila.”

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