“Oh, dear god, my neighbor must be deaf.” My ears perk up at hearing a squall a few moments later, and I realize it’s none other thanI Love Lucy.I vividly remember watching reruns of this show growing up, and it seems now I get to listen to it in my dreams. I turn my fan up to the highest setting, get back into bed, turn the light off again, and this time, even my mask isn’t doing any magical tricks. I’m apparently up for the foreseeable future.
My alarm blared to life after what felt like only falling asleep for two minutes. I’m exhausted, I’m sure I look like what a cat dragged in from a night out, and am ready to bang on my neighbor's wall to give them a dose of their own medicine. Except I’m not an asshole, and while all I can think about is my lack of sleep, I’m also riddled with worry about what’s happening on the other side of my wall.
I’m walking to my car, firmly in my thoughts, sipping on my extra-strong, extra-bold brewed cup of coffee with more creamer than necessary, but that’s what happens when sleep deprivation kicks in.
What I’m totally unprepared for is the man I see walk toward me. The sip I was about to take is no longer a concern. I’m no longer drowsy and worried about looking for a place to lay my head. Nope, I’m wide awake and looking at a man who lives in the same apartment complex, or at least I hope he does, because seeing him around would surely brighten my day.
The parking lot is packed, the morning sun is shimmering off the cars, and it’s already starting to get warm this early in the day.
He walks near me, allowing me the opportunity to take him in. His jaw is strong, unmistakably rugged and masculine, dusted with dark stubble. His mouth curves slightly upward—not quite into a smile, but the slight hint of one, like he can read my mind or something—when his eyes meet mine. They catch the light from the sunshine, are steady and intent. Warmth settles in my lower abdomen when our gazes lock, and his light green eyes meet my hazel ones.
His clothes are faded and worn, pulling tightly across his broad shoulders and powerful chest. The few buttons at the top are undone, showing off his throat and upper chest, causing my eyes to linger there a smidge longer than I mean them to. The jeans he’s wearing sit low on his hips, hugging his strong thighs that look more than capable of carrying their fair share of weight.
I tell myself this is only a figment of my imagination, the haze of sleeplessness sucking me in, but then the deep rasp of his voice says, “Mornin’, ma’am.” The tip of his head stirs a swirling sensation right between my thighs.
“Oh, hi. Good morning,” I reply, hoping I don’t sound like a bumbling idiot. He shoots a wink my way and saunters past me. I guess my morning is turning right side up with the eye candy I hope I get to enjoy daily.
1
Dean
PRESENT DAY
“Mornin’,” I tell the woman I’ve seen five out of seven days this week. Clearly, we both live in the same apartment complex, and I’ve yet to see her with anyone else. Another plus is that there isn’t a ring on her finger, not even a faint tan line, and from the looks she’s given me the past few days, I’m pretty sure it all aligns with her being single. At least I’m hopeful that’s the case.
“Good morning,” she replies sleepily. I can attest to the tiredness. No amount of getting used to shift changes has helped me become adjusted to going from working day to night. The latest round of working nights is taking its toll on me, probably because I’m in a different place altogether. New city, new apartment, and new schedule. I guess I’m fortunate it’s not a new company as well. A lot of times, when you’re a lineman, the moment the contract is up, so is your job.
“Rough night?” I ask, going further in the topic of conversation than what we’ve had before.
“Do I look as bad as I feel?” From the moment I first saw her, the quiet beauty nearly disarmed me with her wide, expressive hazel eyes surrounded by dark lashes. Her lips are full and naturally curved, resting in a gentle way, as if she’s ina thoughtful moment. There’s nothing forced in her expression. She’s soft, at ease with confidence, and an unspoken invitation to look a hell of a lot closer.
Today, she’s in an oversized white collared shirt with the top three buttons undone, showing the dew-touched skin above the scrap of lace beneath her shirt with a hint of her breasts peeking out at the top. Jeans cover her lower half, which is probably a good thing, or I’d be swallowing my goddamn tongue. As it is, her hair spills over her shoulders in loose waves, catching the light from the sun, illuminating the honey-gold color framing her face.
“Nah, more like I can hear it in your voice. At least it’s Friday, right?” It doesn’t make a difference to me. My job isn’t a nine-to-five, Monday-through-Friday career. You get a set of hours, work over those, get called in, and sometimes, you get moved to an entirely different area with a moment's fucking notice. This job isn’t for the weak or the faint of heart. Right now, I’m in this area for a hardening project, but that doesn’t mean a Florida thunderstorm won’t blow through, causing us to pull off an area and support the local crew.
“Yeah, thank goodness. Well, I guess I should let you go and get to work,” the golden-haired beauty says as she takes a sip from her coffee mug. Not one of those to-go thermos-style ones, either—an honest-to-god ceramic cup. She’s got to be playing a game of Russian Roulette not to spill the hot liquid while driving.
And I’ve noticed it’s not just on rare occurrences either; it’s every day, and each one has a different state or country on it.
“Have a good day. See you around.” I give her a smirk, dip my chin, and watch as she walks past me. It’s only when I glance over my shoulder that I notice she’s looking back at me.
“You, too.” We don’t formally meet. I don’t have her name, and she doesn’t have mine. We’re basically strangers who wouldsee one another occasionally. And I’m not gonna lie, it’s a breath of fresh air. Usually, meeting someone requires a dating site. I don’t touch those at all. Too many of the guys I work with fuck with them, and the stories they have to tell are plenty enough for me. Then there’s social media, a place I don’t get involved in after the last round of unsolicited pictures of half-naked women, which put me all the way off, and I deleted the shit from my phone. My sister claims it’ll be an instant red flag when a woman and her crew run a search that rivals the FBI, which is why she told me not to deactivate my shit. I shrugged my shoulders, tossed her my phone, and she had her way with it in blocking what she called chicken something or the other.
I shake my head at the memory while reminding myself to call her sooner rather than later. At the same time, a wave of tiredness takes over. I hear a car door close, the start of an engine, and take one last look over my shoulder, noticing that the woman without a name is safely inside. She gives me another finger wave, and I tip my chin before moving on with my day.
When I make it to the building where my apartment is located, I take the stairs two at a time. Living on the second floor has its pluses: there’s no one beating on the floor up above, nobody messes with you, and the rent is cheaper. The cons: taking the stairs when you’re tired as fuck, needing groceries hauled up, and moving in and out. There’s also the sun that beats onto the roof, which drives up the cost of electricity. As for me, those issues don’t really bother me too much since my company sent me here for an extended period of time, expenses paid in full.
I make it to the landing and am about to put my key in the lock, but instead of opening the door I’m greeted with a note.
Dear neighbor,
Sorry, we haven’t met yet, and this may be a terrible introduction, but I’m at my last resort, and I’m no snitch. Is there a possibility you can lower the volume on the I Love Lucy episodes at night?
Signed,
A very tired neighbor who shares a wall with you
I shake my head, wondering what the new person is going on about. As far as I’m aware, there isn’t anything on when I return from work. With the note in my hand, I open the door, and there’s Scout, the companion who stumbled upon me one rainy night, dirty, matted, and starving. That was a few weeks ago. After a quick visit to the vet to scan for a microchip and coming back with nothing, then updating his vaccines and putting him on some high-fat puppy food to get him back to his normal weight, he became mine.
