JOSIE
EIGHT
This man is too smooth.
All I can do is stare at him for a few seconds as I fully process his words.
I don’t think I’ll be here for the entire summer, but I don’t tell him that.
I don’t know why I keep it to myself, but something about his flirting is refreshing.
I know it’s a distraction, but I like the rush of adrenaline that runs through me at his subtle advances.
“We’ll see,” I respond, my voice lowered as I rip my gaze from his. I can’t stare into his deep blue eyes a second longer. He’s too attractive for his own good. I turn my focus to my traitor of a cat, who seems happy as can be in Tyson’s arms.
“Mouse, it’s time we stop bothering Tyson.”
“He’s not bothering me.”
I sigh, shaking my head as my cat lets out a loud, contented purr as Tyson’s fingers scratch at his chest.
I let my gaze meet Tyson’s again, finding his blue-jean stare already locked on me.
“He desperately wants to be an outdoor cat, but living in Manhattan, it doesn’t really work out well for him.
I guess now that we’re here, he’s taking every chance he gets to make a break for it.
” I shake my head as I try to think about how he even got out in the first place.
I swore every window was shut, and I hadn’t even left the house yet this morning to give him the chance to run out the door.
“I don’t even know how he got out, but I promise I’ll investigate so this doesn’t happen a third time. ”
Tyson smiles, and I can’t ignore how the sight of his perfect white teeth with the way his lips turn up sends a rush of heat throughout my entire body. “You live in Manhattan?”
Out of all the things he could’ve focused on from what I said, I wasn’t expecting him to latch on to where I live. “Yes. Born and raised.”
“And what’s your last name, Josephine?”
My lips purse. I know I should maybe be put off by the brazen way he asks my last name, but I’m not.
But I still can’t figure out why he wants to know in the first place.
I think about whether I want to answer or not, but I figure…
why not? I’m sure if he really wanted to, he could figure it out anyway. I might as well tell him. “Russell.”
He doesn’t bother to hide the shock on his face. His lips part, and his dark eyebrows rise slightly on his forehead. “Russell,” he repeats, my last name sounding deep and raspy as he says it. “Do you happen to know an Arthur Russell?”
I smile at the mention of Pop. “Of course. He’s my grandfather. Why?”
Tyson quietly stares at me as he takes in my answer. He lets out a breath and shakes his head for a moment, his eyes wide with what might be disbelief. “No reason. I’ve just heard a lot about your grandfather. It’s hard not to know about him.”
My smile grows even wider. I’m not surprised. Pop has built a reputation for himself. He worked hard to grow the business. And if Tyson recognizes my grandfather’s name, my guess is he’s built some kind of empire of his own—or at least his family has.
“Would I recognize your last name?” I ask, wanting to know more about him since he now knows a little about me. A simple internet search could tell him far more than I’m willing to share right now, and I want to know his full name in case I choose to learn more about him online.
Mouse lets out a meow from Tyson’s arms, reminding me that he’s still here. I’ve been so locked into the conversation with Tyson that I forgot all about my cat.
Cat Mother of the Year.
I step forward and scratch Mouse behind the ears. He tilts into my touch but makes no movement to leave Tyson’s arms. I don’t know what it is about Tyson that has Mouse obsessed, but it’s clear that Mouse doesn’t care about me if Tyson’s around.
I don’t realize how much closer our bodies are until Tyson speaks up to answer my question.
“Tyson Bishop.” His breath tickles my cheek with his answer.
We’re so close I can tell just how blue his eyes are.
There’s something about his gaze that’s comforting, and I try to ignore how warm my body feels underneath his stare.
Tyson doesn’t say anything else after giving me his name. He doesn’t have to. Because of course I recognize who he is.
My breath hitches for a moment as I think about everything I know about his family.
The left corner of his mouth twitches with the hint of a smirk as he stares at me. “It seems like you recognize my name as well.”
I give him a smile as I think about what I know about his family.
I don’t know much about him—I don’t care to pay too close attention to the gossip or the happenings of the rich and famous in Manhattan—but I do know that everyone was shocked when his sister married his rival, which must have been a couple of years ago at this point.
If I remember right, their families ended up joining forces with their companies.
I think it might be hotels—or maybe it’s some different kind of real estate.
I can’t be completely sure. What I am sure of… he’s rich.
Mega-rich.
Remembering I need to answer him, I let my smile grow as I twist a piece of hair around my finger. “Just a little. But don’t worry, I don’t know much about your reputation. I avoid the social scene—and the gossip—of Manhattan as much as possible.”
His eyes soften as his shoulders slacken. His lip turns up just a little higher. “Same.”
We stare at each other for a few more minutes, and I don’t know what to say.
He’s going to be my neighbor while I’m here, so it’s nice to be able to put a name to his face.
But I’m cautious about becoming too friendly with him.
I escaped to Pop’s Hamptons home to lock myself away and write.
Befriending the hot neighbor—Tyson Bishop—isn’t a good way to make sure I finish this manuscript on time.
I reach out and attempt to grab my cat from Tyson’s grasp. I stare at Mouse, still in shock that he seems so comfortable hanging out in Tyson’s arms. He wouldn’t go anywhere near Eli. “Well, Tyson, I’m sorry again for Mouse.”
“I’m not.”
Like a magnet, my gaze locks on him immediately. My lips part as I repeat the two words he rasped in my head.
I’m not.
I haven’t had anyone flirt with me in so long.
At this point, I can’t remember the last time Eli even flirted with me.
But I’m aware enough to be almost positive that Tyson’s doing that now.
Any other man’s advance, I’d probably shoot down immediately.
I can’t put my finger on why, but there’s something about his that makes me want to entertain him, even when I know I probably shouldn’t.
“Okay,” I whisper, at a complete loss for words.
I think I forgot how to flirt with a man.
Do I even want to flirt back? It’d be harmless, but I really shouldn’t humor it.
My intention when coming to the Hamptons was to lock myself in the house and only get out to write at the club.
It wasn’t to escape and flirt with a hot, very wealthy neighbor.
But still, I can’t deny how good it feels.
“What are your plans today?” Tyson asks. He attempts to hand Mouse over to me, but Mouse lets out a meow of protest. He sticks his paws against Tyson’s chest, and to my horror, I realize they are tangled in the fabric of Tyson’s shirt.
“Oh my God.” I close the distance between us and attempt to carefully get my cat’s claws from Tyson’s shirt without ruining the fabric.
“I’m sorry, he never does this.” I manage to get one paw and then the next from Tyson’s shirt.
There are tiny snags in the fabric, and warmth pools in my cheeks at the realization that not only has my cat trespassed into Tyson’s yard and bothered him twice now, but he’s also ruined Tyson’s shirt.
A deep, throaty chuckle rumbles from Tyson’s chest. “Josie, it’s fine. I’ve got plenty of shirts.”
I shake my head as I’m finally able to tear Mouse away from Tyson. “He basically hates other people. He’s my baby and hisses at everyone else. This is just so out of character for him, and I promise I’ll get you a new shirt and make sure he stays locked inside.”
Despite Mouse’s angry meows, I squeeze my arms tighter around him as he tries to squirm to get free.
If Tyson’s upset about Mouse ruining his shirt, he doesn’t give any indication of that. In fact, he smiles. A smile that’s wide enough it makes the corners of his eyes slightly crinkle. “Do you have any plans today, Josie?”
Nope.
None.
Well, except for writing.
He must take my silence as a cue for him to go on. He smirks. “Spend the day with me?” I can’t decide if the words come out as more of a demand or as a question. Either way, I’m trying to decide if I should forget about my plans to work and spend the day with him instead.
Suddenly, I have no plans.
Not with the way he’s giving me a look that makes my heart jolt and my pulse pound. I give him a soft smile, mustering up as much willpower as I can to deny my hot neighbor. “I have to work.”
“And what do you do for work?”
I lift my shoulder in a shrug and take a step back.
“Work,” I say coyly, for some reason not wanting to dive into my job right now.
A simple search of my name and he’d find out immediately.
I’m scared that if I stand here for any longer, I will take him up on his offer, and I can’t spend the day with him, no matter how tempting it may be.
“Thanks again for not being a dick about my cat, Tyson. It was nice to meet you. I’ll see you around.”
“Josie.” He only says my name, but it comes out like a demand—or maybe it’s a plea.
Just by the tone in his voice, I know he’s wanting me to change my mind about working, but I can’t.
Tyson Bishop is a distraction I can’t afford, not with my publisher breathing down my neck about finishing this book.
“Enjoy your day. I’ll work on getting you that new shirt.”
I hastily rush down the steps of his porch, needing to get away from him before he convinces me to change my mind.
“What were you thinking?” I ask Mouse, knowing damn well he can’t answer me.
I might be asking myself the same thing. Even as I rush away from him, part of me wants to turn around and tell him that I’m thinking about doing something spontaneous…like say yes to his request.