Page 14 of Third Time Lucky

“It’s late.” The woman’s curt voice makes me flinch. “Go on, Rue. Adria’s waiting for you. She wants to show you that video you were talking about.”

I am a shameless dropper of eaves right now and I don’t even care. Who is this spoiler? How can anyone sound so put out after listening to that upbeat song?

“Mom, you can’t do this again. I was waiting downstairs for an hour before you answered my text. I thought you’d been in an accident.”

Okay. That explains a lot.

“I don’t like texting.”

“You didn’t answer the phone either. We had plans.”

“And your sister’s doctor had an opening that couldn’t be rescheduled. Forgive me if I thought my grandchildren would enjoy spending one more night together instead. You said you wanted them to get to know each other.”

“I do.” I can practically hear his teeth grinding. “If Joan had called me, I could have taken Adria with us tonight.”

I shift to take a step back, because the song was one thing, but I definitely shouldn’t be listening to this.

“So they could sleep at some stranger’s trashy apartment on the docks? I doubt your sister would have agreed to that.”

“He’s not a stranger and this penthouse is bigger than Joan’s place. A fact you’d know if you’d agreed to come over for dinner.”

“You’ve been so mule-headed since you got back. You aren’t talking to your manager. You aren’t staying here, when I have more than enough roo—”

“We’ve been through this.” He takes an audible breath. “You’re right, it’s late. Enjoy your grandchildren and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“E—”

He hangs up and I swear for a moment he’s about to throw his phone over the railing. I don’t blame him. His day was obviously worse than mine.

I’m about to leave him to it, but because my life is a tragic farce, this is the exact moment he realizes he isn’t alone, and some asshole clutching an orange soda just watched him singing to his daughter and arguing with his mom.

Men love revealing their vulnerable underbellies in public.

“Hi, neighbor.”

With that greeting, I deserve my blue balls and the cardigan Tani will send me after reading that lifestyle article.

Recognition lights his eyes. That’s right. It’s me. I’m the man whose shoulder you nearly dislocated with your hard, glorious body.

Getting another PDE would be a bad decision so soon after the eavesdropping. Just putting that out there in case the god of Cockhalla is listening and wants to take pity on me.

Instead of noticing my dilemma or telling me to fuck right off, he lowers himself back onto the stool and rubs a hand over his face. “Redmond, right? You want to hear something funny? Just this morning I promised Mr. G I’d stay out of your way and let you settle in.” He chuckles into his palm. “So far I’m 0 for 2.”

Well shit. He feels bad? Now I can’t go back inside without being a first-class jerk. “Whatever just happened, blame it on the pig.”

Confused green eyes find mine over his thick, blunt fingers. “Say again?”

I make a motion toward his guitar. “My favorite song? That’s a quote from the same movie.”

“Ah.”

A single syllable can convey so much. Things like,

How many times has this grown man seen Moana?

or

The new neighbor is crazy.

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