Page 17 of Hometown Touchdown
“Yeah,” I sigh. “That’s me. Goodton’s my LLC.”
She squints. “Wait...Goodton?” I see the wheels turning. “Mr. Goodbar. Dalton.Goodton?”
Her eyes go wide. And then she snorts. Not laughs.Snorts.“You named your LLC after a candy bar?”
I level her with a deadpan look. “It’s a strong brand. And a damn good candy bar.”
She murmurs, lips twitching, “You really are the same Knox Dalton.”
“And you’re clearly the same Brynn Marlow. Now with better speakers and a vendetta against peace and quiet.”
She steps back, revealing stacks of neatly labeled boxes—classic Brynn. “So you’re the mystery landlord that lives next door. Sophie mentioned it, but never said your name.”
“Yep, that’s me. Unless you want out. I’ll let you break the lease. No penalty.”
She tilts her head, that familiar spark in her eye. “Not moving.”
“There are other options.”
“Not taking them.”
“Brynn,” I say, too sharp, too familiar. Her name feels like it never left my mouth. “You and I both know this is a bad idea.”
“I like it here.” She shrugs. “Natural light, it doesn’t smell like pickles, and it’s not my parents’ house. That’s three wins.”
I blink. “Pickles?”
She ignores me, breezing toward her kitchen boxes. “I’m not moving.”
I follow her in—mostly to make sure she doesn’t crank the volume again just to spite me. “We can’t be neighbors.”
“We can if you stop hovering.”
“That’s not how this works. You can’t blast Britney before brunch and act like it’s normal.”
She turns, hands on hips. “It’s technically too early for brunch.”
“I wastryingto sleep.”
“Well, I was trying to unpack. Sorry my playlist didn’t fit your sad, beige-man energy.”
“The Holy Trinity of Post-Breakup Pop before noon should be illegal.”
“This isn’t about a man, Knox.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me.”
She exhales slowly. “It’s not about a guy. It’s about space. Independence. A fresh start. Which I had—until you showed up like some sleep-deprived HOA enforcer in threadbare pajama pants.”
I glance down. “They’re vintage.”
“They’re tragic.”
“They’recomfortable.”
She lets out a laugh and folds her arms. “Look, I didn’t know this place was yours. But I signed the lease. I’m unpacking. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I could still kick you out.”
