Bonus Epilogue
Noah
My neighbour and tenant, Clio Marsden—beautiful, curvy, fucking infuriating. Sunshine wrapped in neon colors and a smile that could probably melt an iceberg—but not me. I’m immune to her charms.
I smash a pillow over my face to drown out the noise and close my eyes, hoping to fall back to sleep. But now I see her, clear as day, wearing that ridiculous striped sweater she wore the night we met. Even my memories are determined to torment me into insanity.
We live above my tattoo parlour in the small shit hole town of Willow Valley.
It’s where I grew up, born and raised. I don’t know where Clio’s from, but if I had to guess I’d say my own personal hell.
She blew in on a breeze last year like Mary fucking Poppins, taking up residence in my apartment building, and under my goddamn skin.
It used to be all one big open plan apartment up here, but it was way too much space for a single guy with no kids, so I hired my buddy Miles to split it into two units. I hadn’t accounted for how paper thin the walls would be.
When the incessant noise continues for longer than usual, I throw open my apartment door and barrel across the hall to bang on hers.
As the wood panel swings open, Clio’s green eyes are sparkling and she’s wearing that same bright smile that never seems to falter, no matter how many times we’ve done this back and forth.
“Oh. Hi, Noah. I just finished making breakfast. Want some?”
I cross my arms in front of me. “No.”
“Ok…” there’s a long pause before she speaks again. “What can I do for you?”
“You can keep it down. You know, like the last 800 times I’ve asked.”
“Right. Sorry. I’m not used to living in an apartment yet,” she says, scrunching up her nose in that adorable way of hers.
No. Not adorable. This hellion is anything but adorable. She’s annoying… and loud… and fuck, did she paint those jeans on?
I shake myself out of it. “This is your last warning.”
She snorts and echoes the words back in a mocking tone. “This is your last warning.”
“Do you ever take anything seriously?”
She clears her throat and straightens her spine, her lips twitching as she tries to hold back her smile. “I’m very sorry, sir. I will endeavour to do better in the future.”
“You said that last time.” I rub at my temples to dull the oncoming headache. “Look, your lease is up next month. If this keeps happening, I’ll have to find a new tenant."
She rushes forward, eyes wide, gripping my forearm. “No. Please.”
I shrug her off and the absence of her leaves behind a weird prickling sensation. I must be allergic to her lotion or something. “One month. If I have to come over here again…”
“You won’t. Cross my heart.” As the last three words leave her lips, she makes an x across her chest with her finger, drawing my attention to her generous figure. A figure I have no business noticing.
I don’t have a type—man, woman, tall, short, blonde, brunette—none of it matters. There's just something about a soft body that really does it for me. This particular soft woman definitely does not do it for me, though, and it has nothing to do with her body.
Her teenage daughter, Lexi, appears behind her, swinging a backpack onto her shoulder with a waffle shoved between her teeth. As she gets to the door, she takes a bite and mumbles, “Gotta go. Love you.”
Clio pulls her in for a one-armed hug and air kisses her cheek. “Aunt Callie will meet you at the library after school.”
“Ok. Bye mom.”
I step to the side as she rushes past me. “Hi Noah. Bye Noah.”
“See ya, kid.”
Lexi is a carbon copy of her mom, but a lot less annoying. She reminds me of my sister Emma when she was that age—easy-going and confident, with a take-no-shit attitude.
“Are you sure you don’t want any breakfast? I made waffles.” Clio drags out the word waffles in a sing-song voice that grates on my nerves.
They smell incredible, but I’m not here for that.
“One month,” I say before striding back to my apartment and slamming the door shut behind me. With any luck, she’ll be loading her shit into a moving van in 30 days or less.
My nephew August materialises out of his bedroom like the ghost of a Victorian child, rubbing at his eyes. His abrupt appearance startles me. After three weeks, I’m still not used to him living with me. “Holy shit. Say something next time, Auggie.”