Chapter 18
eighteen
The dream I’m having has me waking up all hot and sweaty.
Fucking sex dreams.
Throwing the covers off in frustration, I sit up and run my hands through my tangled hair. I stayed up late last night painting and was too tired to put my hair in its usual nightly braid.
Over the past two months, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Rowan. The fact he’ll be back in Lakeside any day now hasn’t helped my anxiety either.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I trudge over to Slash’s habitat to get him fed.
“Good morning, buddy,” I murmur softly.
Slash flicks his tongue at me excitedly as I drop a handful of crickets into his terrarium. I stand by and watch as he scurries after his breakfast.
With a yawn, I shuffle to the kitchen and start the coffeemaker.
While it brews, I grab my leftover half-eaten burrito from yesterday’s lunch from the fridge and pop it in the microwave.
The smell of beans and cheese fills the air as I pour myself a cup of liquid sanity and take the first blessed sip.
Just as I take a seat at the kitchen island, I hear voices out in the hall. Pausing with the burrito halfway to my mouth, I tilt my head to listen.
“...private entrance...” It takes all of two seconds to recognize Ryder’s voice. “...come and go without having to walk through the shop...”
Shit. Is he showing the Airbnb? I haven’t had a neighbor in months, not since a nice older couple stayed there for two weeks while visiting their grandkids.
Biting into my burrito, I strain to hear more. There are definitely multiple people out there. I can hear at least two other voices, both male, but I can’t quite make out what they’re saying. The voices cut off as the door shuts with a thud.
Great. Just what I need—some random strangers shacking up across the hall.
I silently pray to myself they’re not loud.
The last thing I need are some frat boys blasting music at all hours of the night.
Not that I have any room to talk. I love blasting my music while I paint.
Annoyance hits me when I realize that I won’t be able to do that until whoever the fuck it is leaves.
After cleaning up, I jump into the shower, shampooing my hair twice so I can wash out any residual paint spatter from the night before. I have four tattoo appointments spread throughout the day, and I’m eager to get to work.
Twenty minutes later, I’m dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans, tight black tank top, and worn combat boots. Grabbing my tote, I make a mental note to pick up more charcoal pencils after work.
Checking the time on my phone, I realize I need to hustle if I want to make it downstairs before my first appointment arrives.
I have my regular client Nate coming in at nine for the final session on his sleeve—an elaborate piece involving a flying blue phoenix gripping mechanical gears in its claws.
After that, I’ve got brunch with the girls, then three more appointments to finish out my day.
“See you later, buddy,” I call to Slash, who’s happily sunning himself under the heat lamp.
Double-checking I have everything I need, I grab my keys off the counter.
My front door gives me trouble sometimes. When the weather gets warm and expands the wood, it tends to stick at the upper part of the frame, so it needs a good yank to get it to open and shut right every now and then.
“Come on, you piece of shit,” I mutter, pulling hard. I’ve been meaning to fix it for months, but between work and painting, I never seem to find the time. Finally, it closes with a satisfying thunk, and I slide my key into the lock.
Just as I turn the key, the door down the hall flies open with enough force to make me jump.
My head spins in surprise before my heart leaps into my throat.
Standing in the doorway of Ryder’s Airbnb—not looking surprised at all, by the way—is the last person I expected to see.
My heart drops to my feet as I stare at Rowan in shock.
He looks even better than he did at Sasha’s party.
Dark jeans hug his thick, muscular thighs in all the right places, and his tight white T-shirt shows off his muscular arms and chest. His hair is slightly mussed, and the short-cropped beard on his face makes him look rugged and annoyingly sexy.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I blurt, my voice echoing off the walls of the narrow hallway.
Rowan’s eyes widen, and for a split second, I see a flash of something that looks suspiciously like panic before his expression shifts into something more along the lines of cool.
“Hey, Iz.”
“That’s not an answer, Rowan.” The unexpected growl in my tone surprises me. His eyebrows pop up before a slow grin spreads across his sexy fucking face.
Shit. Why does he have to be so effing hot?
“I’m staying here,” he says. “Well, for the next few months anyway.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
His voice glides over my skin, melting into my veins like molten honey. “Didn’t Logan tell you?”
My heart somersaults from my feet back into my chest as my mind races to process this new piece of information.
Of course, my brother is behind this. It has his meddling jerkface and hands all over it.
I’m going to kill him. Slowly. Painfully.
“No,” I barely manage.
Rowan leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. The move makes his biceps strain against the sleeves of his T-shirt, and I hate the way my body instantly responds. My inner walls clench, and I have to force my gaze back up to his, which is just as dangerous.
Goddammit.
“Surprise,” he says with a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“This is a joke, right?” I glance down the hall, half expecting Logan to jump out laughing. “Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke.”
“’Fraid not.” Rowan steps into the hall and strolls over, closing the few feet between us. “I’m here to film a movie, and Logan mentioned Ryder had a place available, so...” He waves a hand at the door behind him and shrugs.
Ro is standing so close I can feel the heat emanating from his body.
My senses go haywire as his scent—spicy, citrusy, and something that’s always been a part of him for as long as I can remember—engulfs me, making my knees go weak.
I inhale deeply without meaning to, and god, it takes everything I’ve got not to step into him and smash my face against his neck.
I take an instinctive step back. “For how long?”
“Three months, give or take.”
Three months. Three freaking months of potentially running into my former best friend every single day. Three months of trying to avoid the man who keeps leaving without saying goodbye and breaking my heart.
“Well.” I force a smile that I know comes off more like a grimace. “I’d say welcome to the building, but that would imply I’m happy you’re here.”
His eyes narrow, darkening slightly. “Look, Sun—”
I cut my hand through the air. “Don’t you dare even think about calling me that. And don’t for one fucking second think we’ll go back to being friends now that we’re neighbors.”
“Come on, Iz. I’d really like to talk. Explain—”
“I’m gonna be late for work,” I snarl as I turn on my heel and stomp down the hall.
Just as I reach the private stairwell that leads down to the shop, his deep voice stops me in my tracks.
“I am sorry, you know.”
The sincerity in his tone eases the tightness in my shoulders a bit, but I’m frozen in place, facing away from him as I my head falls back. “For what exactly?” I stare blindly up at the ceiling. “There’s quite a list to choose from.”
“All of it.”
“Good to know.”
I shift to press my hand against the push bar to the stairwell door.
“Can you please give me a chance to explain?”
Something inside me cracks a little. Do I want to give him another chance? The thought alone scares the shit out of me.
It’s not quite the same situation as when we were twelve. Because when he left the last time, he was old enough to know better. One part of me wants more than anything to have my best friend back. The other part? Doesn’t even want to entertain the idea.
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and head downstairs without looking back.
By the time I reach my station, my hands are trembling with a mix of confusion and heat.
Jax looks up from where he’s sitting at his station next to mine, eyebrows rising when he sees the look on my face.
“Whoa. Who spit in your Captain Crunch this morning?”
“Did you know?” I demand, tossing my bag onto my tattoo chair with more force than necessary.
“Know what?” he asks.
“That Rowan Cole is renting Ryder’s apartment for the next few months,” I growl, stalking over to glare down at him with my hands on my hips.
“Ryder mentioned something about a new tenant this morning, but I didn’t know it was him. I swear,” he says, raising his hands in surrender when I tilt my head.
Letting out a huff, I stomp back over to my station and start setting up.
Jax is quiet, studying me for a moment before he speaks again. “Would it really have been better if you’d known ahead of time? You still would’ve been pissed.”
He has a point. Even if I had known, it probably wouldn’t have changed anything.
The bell over the door chimes, and I look up to see my first client of the day walk in. I plaster on a professional smile, pushing all thoughts of a sexy as fuck Rowan to the back of my mind.
The session goes smoothly, and by the time I’m wrapping Nate’s arm in protective film, I’ve almost managed to forget about my unexpected neighbor situation.
Almost.
After he pays and leaves, I check the time. I’ve got about thirty minutes before I need to meet the girls for brunch. Just enough time to clean up before heading over to Rise & Dine.
Twenty minutes later, I pull off my gloves and toss them and a disinfectant wipe into the trash.
“I’m heading out,” I say to Jax as I grab my bag. “I’ll be back for my two o’clock.”
“Have fun,” he replies, keeping his focus on the stencil he’s working on. “Try not to stab anyone with your fork.”
“No promises,” I grumble as I head for the door.