Page 4 of Rockstar Next Door Neighbor

“Luke,” I manage, watching as she moves around the kitchen with the confidence of someone who knows their way around, even though she seems nervous about meeting my eyes directly. “These are delicious.”

“Thanks.” She sneaks another glance at me, her blush deepening before she busies herself with arranging things on the counter. “Though usually, the guy wants to get to know me before he declares his love.”

Despite her shy demeanor, there’s a hint of playfulness in her voice that makes me want to hear more.

“Fair enough,” I say, finding my footing. “How about I start by trying everything else you made? You know, for research purposes.”

She laughs softly, ducking her head in a way that’s absolutely adorable. “Research purposes?”

“Absolutely. Very serious business.” I grab another appetizer, trying to catch her eye. When I do, she holds my gaze for just a second before looking away, but that brief moment of connection sends a sizzle of attraction coursing through me.

“So, you’re the Wild Band’s keyboard player?” she asks, pulling out more food from the oven. Her voice wavers slightly, like she’s trying to sound casual but isn’t quite managing it.

“Guilty as charged. You a fan of the band?”

She straightens up, rearranging a few of the appetizers. “I know most of your music. Sam was actually in my high school class back in Ocala.”

I notice how she keeps sneaking quick glances when she thinks I’m not looking, each one accompanied by that becoming blush. It’s endearing as hell and completely different from the usualconfident women who approach me at shows and the kind of company I’ve been keeping lately.

“Small world,” I say, leaning against the counter. “And now you’re here making the best food I’ve ever tasted. How’d that happen?”

“Long story,” she says, but before she can continue, Emily calls her over to help with something. She seems almost relieved for the excuse to step away, though I don’t miss the way she glances back at me over her shoulder as she goes.

I watch her work, fascinated by the contrast between her shy demeanor around me and her absolute confidence in the kitchen. When she’s focused on cooking or plating, all that nervousness disappears, replaced by sure movements and careful attention to detail.

Reluctantly turning away, I step out onto the deck, where the salty breeze carries the mouthwatering scent of whatever Sam’s grilling. Nate’s lounging in one of the Adirondack chairs while Sam flips burgers with the expertise of someone who’s hosted too many band cookouts to count.

“Those mushroom things,” I say, accepting a beer from Nate. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Sam grins knowingly. “Just wait till you try Lila’s other stuff. The girl’s got talent.”

The sliding glass door opens behind us, and Lila steps out carrying a platter. “Emily wanted me to bring out the vegetables,” she says softly, not quite meeting my eyes as she hands it to Sam. The setting sun catches her hair, turning it to burnished gold, and when she passes by me, I catch the faintest hint of citrus and something floral. Then she’s gone, disappearing back inside, the door clicking shut behind her.

I watch her walk away, unable to help myself. There’s something about her—beyond the obvious attraction—that pulls at me. Maybe it’s the way she moves with such purpose, or how her eyes crinkle when she smiles, or...

“Dude, you’re staring,” Nate says, appearing beside me with a knowing smirk.

“Am not.” But I am, and we both know it.

“She’s cute,” he observes, grabbing a beer from the cooler.

“She’s gorgeous,” I correct without thinking, then catch his amused expression. “Shutup.”

“Didn’t say anything.” He takes a sip of his beer, still smirking. “But you might want to close your mouth before you catch flies.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help tracking Lila’s movements as she helps Emily set up the rest of the food. She’s talking with Cassidy now, laughing at something the young girl said, and the sound carries across the space.

When she catches me watching her this time through the glass, her cheeks flush pink again. But there’s a small smile playing on her lips before she quickly looks away. She might be shy, but that smile tells me she’s not entirely unaffected by whatever this is between us.

Yeah, I’m definitely in trouble.

I’m still thinking about her the next morning as I pour myself a bowl of Frosted Flakes. Lila. Even her name is stuck in my head like a melody I can’t shake. After she’d brought out those vegetables in a marinade, she’d spent the rest of the night in the kitchen or surrounded by the others. I hadn’t managed to get more than a few glances at that shy smile that haunted my dreams.

I should’ve found out more about her. Should’ve at least tried to talk to her more, even knowing that I shouldn’t...

The sound of a car door slamming next door pulls me from my thoughts. Great. Moving day. I take my cereal to the kitchen window, curious about who Emily found to rent the other half of the duplex this time. The last tenant was some wannabe musician crew member who would play loud music every minute and tried to get me to collaborate with him on his music.

An old car that’s seen better days is parked in the driveway, stuffed to the brim with boxes and what looks like kitchen equipment. Emily’s there, directing, as usual, someone I can’t quite see. Sam’s carrying boxes inside, and—is that Vince helping? Since when does Vince help anyone move?

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