Page 4 of Resisting Temptation

I fix my eyes on her. “Dorothy-Mae Abernathy, we’ve been best friends for years, and you have to ask me that?” I reply, horrified. Even my best friend thinks I will sleep with anyone just for the fun of it. “We’re just friends.”

She studies me, her head tilting to the side curiously. “Where did you sleep then?”

“Well, with Jake, but notwithhim. He just took me home because I drank too much. I didn’t even know until I fell out of his bed this morning.” I look down at my empty mug. “Unsure of our friendship status now. He said I’m a train wreck.” I pout sadly, feeling the true weight of his words on my shoulders. I don’t want him to hate me. I really care about him, just not in the way I think he wants me to.

Mae wraps her arm around me, squeezing me tightly. “You’re not a train wreck. You’ve just had some bad luck lately, that’s all.”

“Maybe I am the bad luck. What’s that saying? If the problem keeps following you around, then maybe you’re the problem. I don’t know, it’s something like that, but you two know what I mean.”

Their faces say it all. They agree with me. Even my best girlfriends think I’m a problem. “Perhaps instead of saying you’re going to have a break from dating, this time, do it. Concentrate on just being Paisley for a second. We love you, girl, and I know the right guy will come along when you least expect it. Let life happen around you and see what the universe throws your way,” Gisele suggests, a gleam of hope in her eyes.

“The universe,” I huff. “The universe hates me, or it wouldn’t have landed Noah fucking Harrington on my doorstep.” I roll my eyes for the girls’ benefit.

Chapter 3

Noah

After unloading the last box from the moving truck, I thank the guys I hired to move me and close my front door, still chuckling to myself about Paisley’s reaction to us being neighbors. My carefully crafted plan worked perfectly. It’s going to be impossible for the sassy little thing to ignore me now.

For the last six months I’ve been living at The Alexander Hotel while I got my shit sorted out and was able to pack up my place in Jacksonville and finalize the ownership papers on Nanna’s house. And for the entire time, Paisley Whittaker has pretended I don’t exist.

I dump the final box in the master bedroom and pull the curtains aside to get a better look at the view. It’s glorious. My new bedroom looks straight into Paisley’s. Every inch of her powder-blue bedroom is in full view of mine. Her extravagant bed, overflowing withan abundance of pillows and cushions, looks so damn comfortable. When she makes her way to bed at night, I will be right here with her, just a couple of walls in between her beautiful body and mine. A sexy-as-fuck little red dress is discarded on her flawlessly made bed. The outfit she wore to her horror show of a date last night. My fists clench at the thought. That creeper won’t be bothering her again. I made sure of it. Some dudes just can’t take no for an answer, but I would like to think he’s learned his lesson now.

Paisley strolls into her room and flops down on her bed, grabbing a fluffy-looking pillow which she holds over her face, kicking her legs like a four-year-old having a tantrum. A small white cat pounces on the bed then bounds right onto her belly. She collects it up and hugs it to her chest, stroking its silky fur. I could watch her all day. And I just might, at least until she works out I’m doing it.

My doorbell chimes, breaking me from my trance. I push off the wall and head downstairs, swinging open the door to find one of the older locals, Mrs. Rashford, holding a green ceramic casserole dish. “Welcome to the neighborhood, Mr. Harrington. The ladies from tennis won’t believe their eyes when they find out we have a Super Bowl superstar in our midst,” she coos, her sun-damaged skin crinkling like crepe paper as her face lights up with excitement.

I chuckle as I imagine the reaction of her friends. Old ladies did always seem to adore me. “I appreciate your kindness, Mrs. Rashford.” Trying to be courteous, I take the casserole dish from her.

“It’s a family recipe that one, green bean casserole.” She beams with pride.

“I can’t wait to try it.” I give her my best smile back, hoping that’s all.

But she takes my arm, looking way too comfortable for my liking. “Oh, look at those muscles,” she says, having a squeeze.

I lift a skeptical eyebrow, unimpressed by her clear boundary issues. “Did you need something else?”

“Oh yes, dear. Now, I know you grew up in this town, but a lot has changed since you moved away to play football. Let me catch you up to speed. Next door to you on the right is Gladis, her and your nanna were the best of friends before their big feud. Rumor has it Gladis’s late husband had preying eyes for your grandmother.” With a knowing expression, she arches her eyebrow.

My eyes widen as I glance back at her, unable to believe that my own grandmother could be involved in a scandal. But from what Emerson says, you can’t believe everything you hear in this town. “I don’t think I need that kind of information,” I tell her, tugging my arm free.

“On the other side of you, we have the three young girls. Dorothy-Mae, Gisele, and Paisley, but I noticed you met that one already,” she goes on, not bothered that I’m clearly too busy to listen to her chitchat. “She’s a fiery one. You don’t want to get on her bad side. I saw her over here earlier. Was she troubling you, dear? I can have a talk with her if she was. Like to think of myself as the neighborhood watch.” She gives a determined nod. I can only imagine what that entails. Her sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.

While attempting to figure out how to get rid of her, I absentmindedly remove my baseball cap and scratch my head, looking past her over to the girls’ front porch,wondering where she is right now. “I think I can handle Paisley.”

“That’s good, dear. Most can’t. You know, I have seen a lot of men coming from that there townhouse over the last two years.” She points toward the girls’ house, making it blatantly obvious we’re discussing them. “I don’t know what she does to the gentlemen callers who visit, but they never come back more than twice.” She holds her hand up to her mouth as if to whisper a secret. “I hope it’s not something illegal. This is a nice respectable neighborhood, you know. We don’t need her frivolity bringing down the street’s reputation.”

I force a smile, my tolerance growing thin. “Thank you for the casserole and the useful information. I will keep you in mind if I ever need the neighborhood watch,” I say, trying to cut her gossip short. The last thing I need to hear is what Paisley’s been up to for the last few years. Watching her social life play out before me on social media was enough to make me homicidal, but I had to bide my time. If I came home before I knew the situation was under control, the consequences could have been dire. Turns out, it didn’t matter in the end. The motherfucker came good on his threat and destroyed my career anyway.

The elderly lady moves into the opening of the door, stopping me from closing it on her. “Oh, I’m not done, dear. On the other side of them is Emerson Alexander. She’s a beauty, that one, so kind too. But sad, her dear daddy has not long passed away, and it affected her deeply. I’m over the road from them, and next to me is my dear granddaughter, Whitney. Now she’s someone I think you should meet. The most beautiful girl in town, but of course, I’m prejudiced. Smart too. She’s justhome from college after studying to be a veterinarian. Opening her own practice here, she is,” she explains proudly.

With resignation, I find a half-smile, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed. The neighborhood busybody wants to set me up with her granddaughter. “Good for her. Sorry to cut your wonderful catch-me-up off, but I really have to get going. House full of boxes to sort out and the day is getting away from me,” I have to say, since she’s not taking any of my subtle hints to get her to piss off.

Her hand comes to my arm, and she squeezes gently. “Oh, I can see how busy you are, dear. Don’t let me hold you up. I could send Whitney over to help. She’s off work today. I’m sure she would be more than happy to lend a hand.”

“Thank you, the help is unnecessary. I have some friends dropping by soon to give me a hand.” I gently guide her through the doorway, my hand resting lightly on her back.

Turning, she flashes a bright smile. “Well, just shout out if we can do anything,” she sing-songs.

---