Page 61 of Rockstar Next Door Neighbor

Outside, she turns into my arms, clearly expecting a goodnight kiss. I manage a quick peck, already calculating how quickly I can make an exit.

“Dream of me,” she sighs dramatically.

I will—but they’ll be nightmares.

Marcus appears as she clicks ahead on designer heels, walking to their car. “Excellent evening, wouldn’t you say?”

“Perfect,” I lie.

“Crystal’s right about the wedding.” His tone hardens slightly. “No reason to delay joining our families... officially.”

The threat hangs between us like smoke. I think of Jackson, of Lila waiting patiently at home, of Dad playing his part so perfectly tonight.

“No reason at all,” I agree, hating every word.

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Very good, then. We’ll start venue hunting Monday.”

I watch them drive away in his luxury car, Crystal waving from the passenger seat like a princess in a parade. Dad appears at my shoulder, looking as exhausted as I feel.

“Home?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah.” I loosen my tie completely. “Need a ride?”

“Marie’s waiting.” He studies me carefully. “You did well tonight, son. Just...”

“I know.” I scrub a hand over my face. “Be careful.”

The drive home feels endless. All I want is to go to Lila’s and wash away this night with her quiet understanding and steady presence. Instead, I park in the driveway and head straightfor the shower, trying to scrub away the feeling of Crystal’s possessive touches and Marcus’s calculating stares.

Three weeks suddenly feels like an eternity.

The morning after the engagement dinner from hell, I run until my legs burn, trying to outpace the memory of Marcus’s threats and Crystal’s shrill voice. The sun climbs higher as I push myself along the beach, sweat soaking my shirt despite the ocean breeze.

By the time I circle back toward home, the morning crowds have thinned, leaving the beach nearly empty. That’s when I see her.

Lila emerges from the waves like something from a dream, water streaming down her curves, her purple swimsuit starkly contrasting against her sun-kissed skin. Her blonde hair falls in wet ropes down her back as she walks toward shore, completely unaware of how the rising sun turns the water droplets on her skin into diamonds.

I stop dead, unable to look away. Unable to breathe.

She bends to pick up her towel from the sand, and my mouth goes dry. Every line of her body is a masterpiece—strong from hours in the kitchen, yet graceful and perfectly curved in all the right places. She’s nothing like the society women at lastnight’s dinner, with their sharp angles and artificial perfection. Lila is real, warm, and absolutely magnificent.

I should turn away. I should go inside, take a cold shower, and remember all the reasons we need to keep our distance. Instead, I find myself following her path toward our deck, staying close to the dune line where the sea oats provide cover.

She climbs the steps, humming something under her breath—one of our songs, I realize with a jolt of pleasure. The towel’s draped around her shoulders, but it does little to hide the way her wet swimsuit clings to her every curve.

“You’re staring,” she says without turning around.

Caught, I step out of the shadows. “Can you blame me?”

She faces me then, and the morning light catches the water droplets in her eyelashes. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere more... appropriate?”

“Probably.” I climb the steps, drawn to her like gravity. “But I couldn’t look away.”

She turns and opens the glass sliding door. I silently follow her inside, turning to face her.

“Luke...” Her voice holds a warning, but she doesn’tstep back as I move in closer.

“You looked like a goddess,” I tell her honestly. “Rising from the sea like Aphrodite...”

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