Chapter 1
PEPPER
I hear the beeping of a truck backing up and jump up from the floor and rush to the window.
Peering out, I see it’s a moving truck. I run back to my front door, but I’m not tall enough to see through the peephole that well, so I dash to the kitchen and grab a step stool.
I almost trip over my own two feet but save myself from falling on my butt.
I find the lime-green stool I use when I need something out of the upper part of the cabinets and carry it to the front door.
“Tartar sauce,” I snip out when the stool hits the door with a loud bang. I cringe, hoping I don't get myself busted for peeping.
I hop up on it, saying a small prayer he hasn't made it to his door yet. There’s a new tenant who moved in next door and everyone’s been talking about it.
The whole place is buzzing because the word is he bought the whole freaking building.
Also, Tasha told me he’s crazy hot. She actually called him fuckable, but that’s not something I’d repeat.
My best friend is gorgeous, and she’s always got men giving her attention. She doesn’t leave much to the imagination when it comes to her body, and I envy her confidence. I keep hoping some of it will rub off on me.
I close one eye and squint the other as I press my hands to the door to steady myself.
I have to see what’s caught Tasha’s attention.
No man has ever turned her head like this before.
Well, at least not in the three months I’ve lived here.
She was the first friend I made when I moved to the city.
She’s ten years older than me and is my complete opposite.
Maybe that’s why I’ve never stood out like her when it comes to men.
When I peek through the hole my breath catches. There’s a man standing in the middle of the hallway looking right at my door. He’s so close it startles me, and I stumble back, falling off the stool and landing right on my tush.
“Raspberries!” I cry out, knowing my backside will be feeling that tomorrow.
I realize how loud my exclamation was and throw my hand over my mouth. I close my eyes and wait for a moment, praying he didn’t hear that. When I open them, I have to smother my own laughter at how much of a klutz I am. Especially when I get excited about something.
Letting out a breath, I gather myself up and stand back on my feet. I put my hands on my cheeks, feeling the warmth of my embarrassment. He had to have heard me. Of course I live across from him, so it’s not like I can avoid him forever.
Slowly I creep back to the stool and climb on. When I peek out the hole I expect him to be gone, but I’m not that lucky. He’s still standing there staring at my door, and I want to die of embarrassment. But the longer I stand there, the more I look him over, and I realize Tasha was right.
His dark shirt is stretched tight against his broad barrel chest, and he looks he could rip a tree in half with his bare hands.
I stare at him in wonder as his massive body remains still and he watches my door.
Impossibly, his eyes appear to be looking straight through it and I swear he can see me.
I lean back, needing a breather from his intense, rich brown eyes.
When I step off the stool I take another few steps from the door, feeling like I need to put space between us.
He’s got me rattled, but I’m not afraid and I don’t know why I’m suddenly so unsure of myself.
He could probably knock down the door if he wanted to.
One kick with those thick thighs of his and the lock wouldn’t stand a chance.
It should probably terrify me that a man-beast lives across the hall from me, but my body is reacting in a way it never has before.
Yeah, maybe Tasha was right. That must be what fuckable means.
I bite my lip, taking another few steps back before my butt hits the sofa and I fall onto it.
I lie there looking up at the ceiling as I wonder who he might be.
I’ve never in my life seen a man that big before.
In real life, it’s shocking. I giggle when I think about what a man of his size could do for a living.
Maybe he’s a bear wrestler? It’s ridiculous, but I think he’d probably stand a chance in a ring with one.
My phone dings and I roll over, reaching for it on the small table next to my sofa.
It can only be one of three people. I’ve made two friends since I moved here—Tasha and Wanda.
The only other person who messages me is my Aunt Nellie.
She raised me like I was her daughter, but she’s not so great with technology.
I get a call from her about once a week, so I have a feeling it’s Tasha. I grin when I see her message.
Tasha: Come over
I glance at my front door and I want to dash downstairs to her apartment, but I’m worried I’ll get busted in the hallway by the giant bear who lives next door. My gaze falls on my laptop and I’m reminded I need to get back to work.
Tasha: Never mind. I’m coming to your place. I want to bump into that hot man meat you got up there.
A flash of hot anger hits me, taking me by surprise. I sit up in shock, then dismiss the emotion as a crazy one-time thing.
I start tidying my living room as a way of distracting myself.
I can be a little bit of a mess. When I first moved in I kept the place really clean, but as time has gone on I’ve gotten comfortable.
I love decorating, and it’s something I’m still doing.
I painted all the walls and have been working on a few pieces of furniture.
I like to find old stuff that looks like it needs to be thrown out and then bring it back to life.
I’m a Pinterest and Etsy junkie with my projects, but it’s fun.
Maybe projects is putting it lightly. It’s my life, the reason I moved from a small town to a big city.
It might be a pipe dream, but I’m giving it a go.
I have all these ideas for things I want to make, and I blog about it as I work.
I video my progress while creating some of these things, even selling some stuff occasionally.
The problem is I have one too many ideas and not enough time to do them all.
I can be all over the place at times, but when I’m working on something I love I can be super focused.
A knock sounds at the door and I toss the throw pillows I made last night onto the sofa.
I glance around and shrug, thinking this will have to do.
I walk over to the door and pull it open, but it’s not Tasha as expected.
Instead, every cell in my body goes into overdrive when I see him standing there in front of me.
“Fuck,” the beast from across the hall rumbles. He runs a hand down his face as if he’s worked up about something. It must be the move; it can be so stressful. “Are your parents home?”
His eyes roam over my body until he pierces me with a hard stare.
I shake my head, unable to find my voice.
I reach up and grab the end of my long braid that’s hanging over my shoulder.
I nervously play with it, wondering what he could possibly want from me.
I watch as his powerful jaw clenches, and I note the dark hair shadowing it.
He’s pissed, and I wonder if I did something wrong.
“When will they be home?”
“They won’t,” I say, looking at him and then at the ground. “They died a long time ago.”
I look away not because it’s difficult to talk about, but because he’s so big and intense. It’s been so long since they passed, I can’t remember them at all. When I fix my attention back on him, he’s not clenching his teeth anymore, and his eyes appear softer.
“Who takes care of you?” His voice is deep like he doesn’t use it much.
“Um, I take care of myself?” I don’t know why it comes out like a question. I’m an adult, but suddenly I feel really vulnerable and young.
I drop my braid and stand up a little bit taller, trying to look older.
I know I look young. Heck, I am pretty young.
The only reason I can even afford to live on my own is because when I was eighteen I inherited the money my parents left me.
It wasn't a ton, but it was enough for me to try and start a life in the city like I’d always dreamed of.
“You sure about that?” He raises his eyebrows and it's then I notice a small scar on his forehead.
“Who takes care of you?” I ask.
I glance down and see a few cuts and scrapes on his hands. He lets out a deep chuckle, laughing at the idea that he gets takes care of. For some reason I don’t believe it; everyone needs someone.
“I’m Theodore, but my friends call me Teddy.” He reaches out his hand, and he’s still got a smile on his face.
“Like a teddy bear?” I tease as I take his hand, smiling up at him.
He holds me gently like I’m delicate, still grinning at me. He shakes his head and mumbles another curse.
“Sure. Like a teddy bear.”
“Well, Bear, I’m Pepper.” I try to pull my hand from his, but his grip tightens. It’s not too tight, but it lets me know he’s not ready to let go. His hand is so rough and it makes me realize how soft my own are. “My friends call me Pep.”
“Think I’ll stick with ‘doll face.’ It fits you.”
I scrunch my nose and wonder if being called doll face is a compliment. I always thought my dolls were pretty when I was a little girl.
“Hey there, Cannon!” We both turn to see Tasha, who is headed right for us. I pull my hand from Bear’s when Tasha’s eyes land on where we were connected. He grunts something I can’t make out as Tasha strolls towards us dressed like she’s ready for a night out on the town.