Chapter 2
AVA
“Excuse me?”
My sexy new neighbor jumps down from the deck railing, and despite being a dang giant, he lands like a cat. Which tracks, because of course Mr. Sexy-as-Sin-and-Helpful-to-Boot has a ballerina’s grace.
He may have the moves, but his aesthetic is all wrong.
Facts. The beard alone would rule out ballet, but he’s sure as heck got the body for it.
He’s tall and broad with sun-bronzed skin covering his sculpted thighs and biceps.
Sweat glistens on his brow, and damp strands of dark hair curl around his ears and over the collar of his t-shirt, giving him a distinctly boyish look, though he’s got to be in his late-twenties.
“I can’t believe it.” His piercing blue eyes lock on mine, and for the first time, I notice the small, silvery scar above his right eyebrow. “It’s really you.”
My belly dips.
“I…have no idea what you’re talking about.” I offer him a self-deprecating smile, hoping to soften the blow. “Sorry.”
“You really don’t remember me?” Disbelief flickers across his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “I guess I looked a little different back then. My hair was shorter, and I didn’t have a beard.” He claps a hand over his flat stomach. “Plus, I’ve put on some weight.”
And it was clearly all muscle.
Talk about unfair. Why is it that men keep getting better with age, and I look like a Walking Dead extra if I skip my skincare routine?
So not the point, Ava.
Right. Maybe we met a few years ago? In clinicals. Or grad school. I rack my brain for context, but I’ve got nothing.
I’ve never seen this man before in my life. Not that I can remember, anyway. And if I’d met an objectively gorgeous man with muscles for days, surely I’d remember.
Still, he just saved me several hundred dollars in locksmith fees I can’t afford, and I don’t want to offend him. Not when we’re going to be neighbors for…however long I’m in Atlanta.
“Perhaps you could give me a hint?” I suggest. “I haven’t had my coffee, and I’m notoriously bad with names, even on my best day.”
Not entirely true, but Nana always says a white lie is better than a nasty truth.
“Cancún? Beach Olympics?” The memories float to the forefront of my mind. Before I can bring them into sharper focus, he turns and drops the waistband of his running shorts. “Maybe this will jog your memory.”
My cheeks heat, but I can’t not look. He’s got the kind of glutes you could bounce a quarter off of, and— Holy. Forking. Shirt balls.
My fingers fly to the back of my neck. To the flock of sparrows tattooed just below my hairline. I had them inked in Cancún. The same night I threw caution to the wind and had a one-night stand with a stranger—and the best sex of my life.
My thighs clench at the memory, but it can’t be… “Flamingo Boy?”
He chuckles, the quiet rumble reverberating in his chest. “I prefer Knox these days.”
Knox. The name suits him, but I can’t think about that right now, because I’m freaking the fudge out. I had sex with this man. The really filthy, adventurous kind.
Only because you never expected to see him again.
Obviously. That doesn’t change the fact that I enjoyed it immensely.
Knox leans against the railing, crossing his long legs at the ankles. “And you are?”
Completely out of my depth, because what are the odds my one-night stand would be my new neighbor? It’s inconceivable. Heck, it would be laughable if it weren’t so mortifying. But I can’t say that, so I force myself to meet his eyes and pretend I’m not a hair’s breadth from a full-blown menty B.
“I’m Ava.” I clasp my hands together and regret it instantly. My palm throbs from the splinter, and the added pressure isn’t helping. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you. From before.”
“To be fair, that’s probably because I spent most of the night behind you.
” He smirks, and my entire body goes up in flames.
Whether it’s embarrassment or memories of our scorching hot night together is anyone’s guess.
Thankfully, he takes pity on me and changes tack.
“Do you have any idea how much shit I’ve taken for this tattoo? ”
“No, but I’ve got a pretty good imagination.” After all, the man has a pink flamingo inked on his butt, the result of losing a bet to yours truly.
His smirk stretches into a full-on smile, and I catch a glimpse of the perfectly matched dimples that drew me to him when we first met. “Whatever you’re imagining, triple it.”
“That bad, huh?” Laughter bubbles up from the pit of my stomach.
After the stress of the move, meeting my father for the first time, and starting a new job, it feels good.
I give Knox a slow once-over, drinking in every inch of his rock-hard body.
“I don’t see any fresh ink, so I guess it’s safe to say you learned your lesson. ”
He huffs a laugh. “That’s one way of looking at it.”
“It could have been worse.” I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “It could’ve been a kitten. With a pink bow.”
If only I’d thought of it sooner.
“You’re an evil genius,” he says, shaking his head.
“I prefer the term devious mastermind.” I grin and hook a thumb toward the back door. “Can I get you a bottle of water? I’d offer you coffee, but I haven’t had a chance to go shopping yet.”
“That would be great, if it’s not too much trouble.”
When was the last time a man—or anyone for that matter—worried about inconveniencing me?
That would be never.
“It’s the least I can do.” I open the back door and gesture for him to follow. “After all, you saved me from calling a locksmith.”
Or worse, my father. He would have dropped everything and raced over here to save the day. Which sounds great in theory, except for the fact that he already sees me as a child and not as an independent, capable woman.
The temperature drops fifteen degrees when I step inside, and I sigh with relief as cool air caresses my skin. I should be used to the oppressive Georgia heat—I grew up in Texas, after all—but after living up north for the last few years, readjusting to the climate has been brutal.
I grab two bottles of water from the fridge and hand one to Knox.
He twists the top off and immediately takes a drink, eyes closed and head tipped back.
I study him over the top of my bottle as I sip.
His throat bobs like a model in a Gatorade commercial, which, combined with his golden skin and rock-hard biceps, does unholy things to my ovaries.
You’re staring. Quit being a thirsty bitch and make your move.
I choke, water spraying from my mouth as my best friend’s advice echoes in my head.
Knox’s gaze snaps to mine, and his eyes search my face. “Are you okay?”
Pride shredded, I nod vigorously and wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. “I think it just went down the wrong pipe.”
“Happens to the best of us.”
He’d know. When we met five years ago, Knox was sexy, but now? Now he’s perfection, every inch of his chiseled body reminding me of our night together. Of his patient ministrations. Of the pleasure he gave. And the fact that I had three soul-shattering orgasms.
Given the chance, I’ll bet he could smash that record.
Probably. He’s older and more experienced now, but that’s irrelevant. I’m not looking for a repeat performance.
Why not? There’s nothing stopping you.
We’re neighbors. It might get weird.
Weirder than scaling his deck like a spider monkey?
Abso-freaking-lutely. Besides, he probably has a girlfriend. Men like him always do. She’s undoubtedly tall and powerful and orgasms every time he so much as smiles at her. So, basically, my polar opposite in every way.
“The place looks great,” Knox says, his deep voice penetrating my wayward thoughts. “It’s hard to believe you just moved in yesterday.”
“Unpacking is my superpower.” With considerable effort, I turn from my neighbor and study the open-concept living room, trying to view it through his eyes.
It’s cute, cozy, and entirely feminine. The couch is piled high with pink and white pillows, and my favorite weighted blanket hangs neatly over the back.
Narrow bookcases line the far wall, sagging under the weight of too many psychology texts, and a small, salmon-colored orchid that’s fighting for its life.
Despite Nana’s efforts, I’ll never develop a green thumb.
But I doubt Knox wants to hear about that.
“We moved a lot when I was a kid. After the first few times, you get pretty good at it.”
Otherwise, you risk losing the things that matter most.
“Maybe you can teach me your ways.” Knox rubs the back of his neck, looking entirely chagrined. “I’ve been here for a year, and I still have boxes that have never been opened.”
I gasp in mock-horror, earning another one of those heart-stopping smiles. “Pro tip: if you haven’t used it in the last twelve months, you don’t need it.”
“You’re probably right, but what can I say? I’m a sentimental fool.” He brushes past me, crossing the room in a few long strides. He plucks a photo from the bookshelf, and I can’t help but grin. It’s a picture of me, Lexie, and Kayla sipping Mai Tais on the beach. “Was this taken in Cancún?”
I nod and move to his side, where I can get a better look at the image.
I walk by it every day, but at some point I stopped seeing it. I’d forgotten all about my day-one sunburn and the obnoxiously large sombrero Kayla bought me to keep it from getting worse. “We still try to plan an annual girls’ trip, but we couldn’t make it work this year.”
He places the frame on the shelf, and my organized little heart flutters when he puts it back in the exact same spot.
“I have to admit, I’m jealous. I still keep in touch with my buddies, but it’s rare we can all get away at the same time.”
I sigh. “Adulting really sucks sometimes.”
“Speaking of which, I should get out of your way. I’m sure have better things to do on a Saturday than entertain sweaty neighbors.”
Not really. The only person I know in the city is my father, and I’m having dinner with him tomorrow.
Still, I don’t correct Knox. Chances are, has plans himself, and I’ve taken up enough of his time. The fact that he’s being so gracious about it speaks volumes.
We take the stairs down to the ground level foyer, and I thank him again for the assist. “Oh, and don’t take it personally when I slam the door behind you. It’s the only way to get it closed. I think it’s warped or something.”
Knox’s brows shoot up. “I can take a look at it.”
Is he serious? The man just helped me get into my apartment. There is no way I’m going to ask him for another favor. He’s done more than enough, considering we’re practically strangers.
So, you’ll bang a stranger, but you won’t let him fix your door?
Exactly. These two scenarios are not the same—at all.
“Ava?”
God, the way he says my name—in that slow southern drawl—is heaven. It’s more melodic than the twang I grew up with, but it’s familiar just the same.
He stares at me expectantly, waiting for a reply. “It’s fine. Really. I don’t want to trouble you. I’ll just call maintenance.”
“They’ll take forever to get out here.” He opens the door to study it. “The lease may promise forty-eight-hour service, but trust me, it’s more like seven to ten business days.” He turns, flashing those irresistible dimples. “Besides, you don’t want some random dude poking around your apartment.”
I quirk a brow, doing my best to keep a straight face.
“Hey, I am not random.” He throws his hands up in self-defense, revealing the calloused fingers I remember so well. “We’re neighbors, and where I come from, neighbors help each other out. Besides,”—he shoots me a meaningful look—”we have history.”
My pulse quickens, and I will myself not to blush for the eleventy-billionth time, because yeah, we’re really doing this. Addressing the elephant in the room. Like adults.
“I’m not sure a one-night stand counts as history.” Especially when I’ve thought about it so many times, it feels like it was yesterday.
“That’s debatable,” he replies smoothly. “But I think you know that you can trust me.”
“Oh, really?” I plant a hand on my hip, letting myself slide into the playful banter. It’s been ages since I’ve flirted with a man, and while I may be out of practice, Knox has charm in spades. “And how exactly can I be sure you’re trustworthy?”
The question is an invitation. No, a challenge. Knox meets it head-on, his smoldering gaze locked on mine.
Tension crackles in the air between us, and without a word, he stalks toward me, his lithe body moving with predatory grace.
I retreat, but there’s nowhere to go.
My back hits the wall, and an undignified squeak bursts from my lips.
Way to play it cool, Ava.
“There’s no reason to be nervous, darlin’.
” Knox hooks a finger under my chin and tips my head back.
We’re so close my nipples brush his chest with each breath I take, and his scent—a heady blend of sweat and sunscreen—brings me back to that night in Cancún.
“You trusted me with your body once. You can trust me with a faulty hinge.”
I open my mouth to reply, but what can I say? He’s right. Knox was the first and only man to put my pleasure before his own. He was patient and thoughtful, and why am I even debating this? It’s a simple repair, not a lifelong commitment.
Stop making a mountain out of a molehill.
Knox braces his free hand on the wall above my head, eyes locked on mine. He towers over me, caging me in with his muscular body, but I’m not afraid. I feel…safe. Seen. Desirable. He caresses my cheek with his thumb, sending a hot bolt of desire straight to my core.
Time melts away as I lean into his touch, the fire that sparked between us five years ago flaring to life.
He must feel it too because he lowers his mouth to mine.
He’s going to kiss me, right here, right now, and god help me, I want to feel the soft press of his lips on my body, want to feel his teeth scrape along my jawline. But that’s unhinged, right?
Five minutes ago, I didn’t even know his name. Sure, we have history, but we were kids then. What we did was impulsive. Irresponsible. Completely without consequence.
We’re adults now. Neighbors. If things go south—
“You’re not ready yet,” he whispers, voice like gravel. “That’s okay. We’ve got all the time in the world to get to know one another. And make no mistake, Ava, I want to know you.”
“You do?” The words are out before I can stop them, and I desperately wish I could suck them back in.
“More than anything.” He releases my chin and takes a step back, giving me space to breathe freely. To think clearly. “Which is why I’d like to take you on a proper date. Are you free tonight?”