3. Liz
LIZ
"Elizabeth, this is unacceptable. You can't take breaks," my boss, Richard, said, busting in on me while I was at the kitchen sink. He was the owner of his own catering company, Richard’s Catering. We were currently at a client’s, serving the food we’d prepared earlier in the morning.
I’d burned my left forearm setting up a chafing dish and was trying to stifle the pain under a stream of cold water.
"I know, but I burned myself. I need to cool it down so it stops stinging."
"I need you out there. Now."
"I’ll be right out, don't worry," I said, biting my tongue. Asshole. My arm was burning like hell, and I needed a couple more minutes; otherwise, I wouldn't be able to work at all.
Richard pursed his lips, making an ugly face. He was unforgiving.
"Listen to me. Accidents happen on the job. I need you to be able to deal with them while working. Put butter on it or something. Just get out there."
"I'll be right out," I repeated, forcing a smile to his retreating back.
My arm was still stinging. I was sure I would have a blister tomorrow, but I didn’t want to lose my job. I liked catering, and I’d learned a ton of skills that I’d be able to use once I opened my bakery. But honestly, I was plain tired. And when I was tired, I made mistakes.
I smiled broadly. “Liz, you’ve got this. Go out there and kick ass.” That motto was branded in my mind.
I headed back out, determined not to think about my burn. I’d show Richard I could do the job no matter what.
It wasn’t easy though. The burning in my forearm intensified as the day went on.
At 4:00 p.m., I hopped on my bike, enjoying this fine April day.
My arm was bothering me every time I brushed it against my body on a curve, so I tried steering with my uninjured arm more.
For the first time since I came to Chicago, I wasn't feeling quite like the badass Mom insisted I was. My forearm itched and burned. A day off would give it time to heal, but I’d set a goal for myself and my future business, and I didn’t want to stray from it because of a minor incident. I needed to work.
I didn’t have much time before my next shift—just enough for a quick workout and a shower.
I needed some energy, and dancing would do that for me.
Fingers crossed that Declan wasn’t home, because I wanted to blast the music through the living room.
I’d finally ordered wireless earbuds, but they wouldn’t be delivered until next week.
When I rounded the corner, I spotted his car through the fence and groaned.
Didn’t lawyers work all the time? But then again, he seemed to be in his midthirties, so maybe he was already in a top position.
I didn't know too much about him, but I knew of his family.
The Maxwells were famous in Chicago. I couldn't help but wonder if the rest of them were like him—with a stick up their ass. I’d only met them briefly when they helped Declan move in, but they were in the background, so I couldn't tell too much about any of them.
Hopping off my bike, I opened the front gate and did a double take.
He was in the yard, and holy smokes. He was wearing jogging pants, and the man was pure perfection.
I’d only seen him in jeans and shirts until now, and once, I’d gotten a peek of him in a suit.
He’d looked insufferably sexy in everything, but now he was in another league altogether.
The jogging outfit showcased his body, and he had muscles everywhere .
I didn’t know where to look first. His perfect, round ass? His bulging arms?
My goodness, he could pass for a professional athlete.
He turned around, his eyes widening in surprise.
“Liz,” he exclaimed.
“Hey! What are you doing here so early?”
“I was about to go jogging.” He frowned, looking at my forearm. "What happened there?"
"Oh, nothing. I got a little burn at work, and it's going—oh, damn it. There's already a blister," I exclaimed, noticing the puffy area. “I’ll have to bandage this before it gets worse.”
"Do you have a first aid kit?" he asked.
"I don't, actually," I said. Although I’d put salve on it after work, it really needed more attention. "I'm going to go to the pharmacy real quick."
"I've got one. Come on. I'll set you up," he said, gesturing toward his house.
Didn’t see that coming.
"Thank you," I said, taken aback. My sexy and mysterious neighbor wasn't being a total ass today. I took that as a sign that maybe the rest of the day would get better.
He motioned for me to go up the stairs first, so I leaned my bike against the fence and went up.
When we reached the top step of the porch, he leaned forward, grasping the handle to the front door.
His arm brushed mine in the process, and a bolt of heat spiraled through me.
I bit my lower lip as he opened the door, hoping he didn’t see my reaction.
I'd never been inside the house after Helen left, and it took my breath away.
"This looks gorgeous," I commented, stepping inside.
My guest house was comparatively new—only about twenty years old—but this one was much older. It had soul and character. It was one of those homes I'd always dreamed about living in.
I noticed right away that Declan had completely remodeled the kitchen. It was sleek and modern, but it still fit with the rest of the house.
He had a dark green velvet couch, and all the metal accents throughout the living room were gold. It had a Great Gatsby , 1920s sort of vibe. The massive wood staircase leading to the upper floor had been chipped and faded when Helen lived here. Now it looked recently sanded and polished.
Feeling his eyes on me, I glanced over to him.
I had no clue how, but the man seemed even sexier here inside the house.
The lush surroundings made his sexiness score skyrocket even more.
The house fit him. There was no other way to explain it.
Everything was so pristine. Nothing was out of place.
He was obviously a very disciplined man and liked things a certain way.
Is he thorough in bed too? Does he want things his way there as well?
Liz, what is wrong with you?
I pushed the thought away, but I'd planted the seed, and I knew this wouldn't be the last time I was going to think about his bedroom prowess.
"Come on. The first aid kit is in the kitchen." He walked me to the huge island in the middle of the room. Declan moved over to a side drawer and took out a small white box, then opened it on the counter. "Give me your arm."
We stood side by side. I stretched out my forearm, resting it against the cold granite. "Oh, this feels good."
"I’ll disinfect it first." He sprayed it, then rubbed it a bit. It tingled, but not too much—more in a soothing way. "Want it bandaged?"
“Yes. I think it’s necessary.” I’d need it covered for bartending later this evening.
He applied an ointment on the burned skin, from my forearm down to the heel of my palm. Declan was very meticulous. His gaze was fixated on my hand, and his fingers moved with dexterity once he starting rolling the bandage on.
I couldn't help being overwhelmed by the intimacy of it all. I have it bad . This man was doing absolutely nothing inappropriate, yet I couldn’t keep my mind out of the gutter.
Oh, Liz. How can you even be attracted to him? He's a first-class asshat. He’s waiting for you to move out .
The mind was a complex thing. Besides, it was safe to have sexy daydreams about my landlord, precisely because he wasn't interested in me.
" You're all set," he said.
"This looks so professional. How do you know how to do this so well?"
"I'm the oldest of six. We pulled a lot of shit in our time. I've had enough practice with my five brothers—and myself on rare occasions."
"Color me impressed." Although I couldn't see him getting up to no good. I had no doubt he kept his brothers in line.
And just like that, his hotness score skyrocketed even more. For no apparent reason. Maybe that wasn’t strictly true. Him sharing tidbits about his family definitely rubbed me the right way.
He trained his eyes on me. "Do you want a glass of wine?"
"At four thirty?"
"It’s almost five."
Was this a peace offering, or was he feeling sorry for me?
"I can't. I have a shift starting at six."
He frowned, looking straight at me. "You said you just came from a shift."
"I have two and a half jobs," I said proudly.
"Half?"
"Yeah. One of them is part-time. I work for a catering company. I cook in the morning. Sometimes they need me to help them serve the food at lunch if it’s a bigger order. And from six to midnight, I’m a bartender.”
"How many hours a day do you work?"
"All in all, about sixteen. I only sleep five to six hours. I don't need more. And in between, I dance my ass off when a certain landlord isn't trying to break down my door."
He said nothing, just looked at me with those intense eyes, like he was seeing me for the first time.
“That’s a lot of hours. Especially for physical work, being on your feet the whole time.”
I shrugged. “It’s not forever. I’m planning to open my own bakery soon but haven’t found the right location yet.”
I simmered in my spot. Damn, how could he be so sexy when he was brooding?
"That burn won't get better if you keep using your hands."
"It’s on my arm.”
"Yes, but when you move your hands, you’re going to brush your forearm against things too. It’s inevitable.”
“It’s protected."
"You should still let it rest."
I shrugged. "No can do. No rest for the wicked."
He smiled at me, and I swear to God, my lady bits danced with joy. I had never seen him smile in the week he'd lived here, and now he was sexy in a different way. I couldn't explain it. He was human and approachable and real, not just this sexy god with a temper from hell.
"I like your energy," he said.
"Really? I didn't get that impression any of the times you came to my door."
His smile faded.
That was a short-lived miracle.
“That's because it's in the middle of the night."
"It’s when I come back from my bartending shift, and I can’t go straight to bed because I'm usually too worked up."
He sighed. "Let's not go through this right now."
"Am I earning some mercy points because of the burn?" I batted my eyelashes—no clue why I did that.
"And because you have to go to work."
"Why, thank you. I’ll mark this day on the calendar. I don't think I'll ever encounter it again."
"Are you sure you can’t call in sick?" he asked.
His protective behavior was strangely endearing, probably because I didn't expect it.
I hadn't been on the receiving end of this kind of concern since I was a teenager, still living with my parents.
God knew my ex had zero protective instincts.
The minute I faced difficulties, he bolted out of my life.
"Most employers allow for days off in case of sickness," he continued.
Oh my God. I couldn't believe he was still on my case about that. Then again, he was a lawyer. I was starting to see a completely different side to my neighbor.
"I know, but it's not going to earn me points."
"To take off when you’re sick?"
"Yeah. Some think you fake it. Anyway, it's not so bad. Thank you so much for taking care of my burn. And being civil," I teased. "I'm going to show myself out."
"I'll walk you out. I’m going jogging anyway," he said, coming with me to the front door. We were walking side by side. He towered over me by a lot, the top of my head reaching just below his neck. Stop analyzing the hot guy, Liz. Focus on the house or something instead .
That’s right. The house.
I wanted to memorize details. I had the strangest need to take off my shoes and check if the floors were truly as soft as they looked.
This house was incredible. Helen would love to see what he’d done.
I visited her regularly. Before I went next time, I’d ask Declan if I could take a few pictures to show them to her.
Helen had been worried he would make her home unrecognizable and that what she called “the soul of the house” would be lost.
He opened the door like a perfect gentleman, and I looked up to thank him. The eye contact rooted me to the spot. His blue eyes were a bit darker than before. The air between us charged. I could instantly feel the shift.
Could he?
I cleared my throat, trying to regain my wits. “Thanks a lot for today.”
“You’re welcome.” He paused, then said, “Liz… stay home.”
Holy hell. His voice wasn’t just sexy now but dominant. It was different from his arguing voice. That one made me want to smack him. Now, I kind of wanted to pull him closer to me.
“Does this work for you, usually?” I murmured.
“What?”
“The commanding tone? That eye thing where you look at me as if you want to pin me to the spot? Do people give in to what you want?”
“Yes. Usually.” He lifted one corner of his mouth in a half smile.
“Hmm… that would explain a lot.”
He tilted his head slightly to the right. “Does it?”
“Oh yeah. But it doesn’t work with me.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“So far, you’ve got a lousy record.”
“But we’re neighbors. That gives me plenty of opportunities to prove myself.”
I laughed nervously. He tipped his chin down, fixing his eyes on my mouth. It was only for a split second before he caught himself, but oh my. I was on fire again. My heartbeat accelerated.
“Let’s go, Liz. You don’t want to miss your shift.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
The man had completely made me forget that I had to leave soon. And from his satisfied smirk, he knew it too.
Today had not gone as expected, not at all.
I’d discovered that my handsome landlord wasn’t the asshole I’d pegged him for. He had a protective side—and I liked it very much. On top of that, I was pretty certain I wasn’t the only one fantasizing about naked time together.
“What?” he inquired.
“You’re… different than I thought.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Good different, I assume.”
“Hmm. You know what they say when you assume.”
He scoffed. “You already thought I was an asshole. It can’t get any worse than that.”
“True. I’m off, then. I look forward to you… proving yourself.”
The smile he flashed nearly made my panties combust.
“Game on, neighbor.”