Chapter 1 #2
I pull into my driveway and try, unsuccessfully, to carry everything I bought inside in one trip.
One bag slips from my hand, and shit goes flying across the driveway. A glass jar of pickles crashes onto the pavement and shatters everywhere.
My carton of blueberries spills across the ground, and the mayo bursts open all over everything else in the bag.
Why did I try to act like Superwoman?
I could’ve made more trips.
Ugh!
I storm to the porch and basically dump everything onto the weathered bench.
I dig through my pockets for the keys and go inside to find the broom. It’s in a weird spot that I don’t have time to question.
My aunt and her organization.
I go back outside, only to stop in my tracks.
The sex god is here.
More accurately, he’s standing in my driveway, bent over and cleaning up my pickle mess.
“Um, what are you doing?”
“Cleaning up your mess. What does it look like?” he replies without missing a beat.
He looks up, and my stomach does an uncharacteristic little flip.
Then my mind snaps back into reality when it registers his rude tone.
What is his problem?
I plant my hands on my hips. “You’re acting like I asked you to do this. I don’t even know you, so why are you in my driveway?”
“I was close with your aunt. She would have a fit seeing her home look like this.”
I stare at him, trying to figure out what to say.
“My aunt?” I repeat.
“Yes, Shirley. Who else?”
I stare at him some more.
“Besides, you’re clumsy as all hell. I couldn’t risk you cutting yourself.”
“Look, I don’t care what your relationship was with my aunt. That’s the second time you’ve insulted me in less than two minutes. Get out of my driveway.”
He looks up and smirks. “Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m almost done anyway.”
“I said leave, fucker.”
“You know, you could just say thank you.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
Is he serious?
“I didn’t ask for help. Maybe I would have thanked you if you’d bothered asking first.”
Instead of responding, he comes straight over and snatches the broom and dustpan from my grip.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re excused,” he replies, grinning now.
Okay, this is getting ridiculous.
Who acts like this with someone they just met?
I throw my hands up. “Fine. If you won’t leave, I will.”
“Goodbye, then.”
I can’t believe this man.
Whatever. I have groceries to put away anyway.
I storm inside and shove things into the cupboards with more force than necessary. Then I grab my wine and uncork it.
Pouring a large glass, I take stock of my new home. There’s so much to put away, but I’m too flustered to start anything.
I head out the other way, onto the back deck.
I haven’t checked this area out yet, and it quickly becomes my favorite part of the house.
There’s a shaded patio with a couch and chairs beneath strings of lights. Two picnic tables sit in the yard. A tall fence makes the whole space private, and a hammock is tucked into the corner.
My eyes widen when I spot a hot tub at the end of the wraparound porch.
Wow.
That’s unexpected.
It must be a new addition.
I walk over to inspect it and find a massive grill beside it.
What?
Why would she have this?
The backyard is bigger than I remember, and I’m unsure why she needed so much furniture out here.
I mean, I’m not complaining about the hot tub.
I lift the heavy cover, and a pungent smell hits me.
Covering my nose and mouth, I peer inside and immediately wish I hadn’t.
I let out a bloodcurdling scream, then turn and run.
Oh my God, there’s a human head in there!
I saw hair. A lot of black hair. And the smell is like something out of a crime scene.
I’m barreling back inside when I run into a thick, hard chest that sends me flying backward onto my ass.
“What is it? What happened?”
I look up at him from the floor, still too startled by what I saw to register anything else.
Jesus, my brain isn’t working.
I just point outside.
“There... there’s a head in my hot tub,” I manage to stutter.
“A head?” he repeats, confused.
“I swear to fucking God, there’s a floating head in there.”
“Let me see.”
I scramble backward and fight to get to my feet. I shake my head vigorously.
“I’m not going back out there.”
He rolls his beautiful brown eyes and walks outside.
I pull myself together enough to make it to my purse.
I have to call the police.
Just as I find my phone and begin to dial, my sexy neighbor comes back inside with a scowl on his face.
“Did you see it?” I ask, my voice still sharp with panic.
He eyes my phone. “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean, what am I doing? There’s a head floating in my backyard. I’m calling the police.”
He laughs, and I stare at him.
What is funny about this?
“You’re not going to want to do that,” he says, still chuckling.
I take a step back.
This man is seriously messed up.
Is he the killer?
Oh my God. I live next to a serial killer.
I look back down at my phone and start dialing.
“It’s a dead skunk, Sloane.”
His words don’t immediately register. When they do, I look up to find him smiling at me.
“It’s a what?”
“A skunk.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“No. No, no. Then how did it get in there? Someone had to put it there.”
I pause.
“Wait. How can you be sure? I saw hair. So much black hair.”
He raises his eyebrows at me.
Black hair.
Well, I guess that could make sense.
But how the hell did it get in there?
“I still don’t see how it could’ve gotten in there.”
“Well, it sure as hell isn’t a human head. Jesus, I thought you were dying, woman.”
“What?”
I am so lost.
Now he’s mad because I screamed?
“Are you serious right now? Now you’re mad at me?”
He looks me up and down. “Well, I’m not mad at the poor skunk.”
“Okay, I can’t deal with this tonight.”
I stalk back into the kitchen and pour more wine into my already full glass.
He follows and leans casually against the kitchen island.
“Sure, I’d love a glass,” he says as if I offered.
I glare at him.
The gall of this man.
“I didn’t offer.”
He holds up his hands in defeat.
“Fine. I’ll get out of your hair, then.”
“Fine.”
I glare at him, but his eyes are bright with amusement.
Get out, you sexy bastard.
Leave me alone with my wine and dead-ass skunk.