1
KEATS
I’m tempted.
By the situation.
The package, I mean.
I want to take the knife in my hand and destroy yet another box that arrived at my house because either the delivery man hasn’t learned from his mistakes yet or there is simply someone incapable of doing their job writing the correct address on a package. This should have arrived to my pain-in-the-ass neighbor. This must be the third box in a week.
Every. Single. Time. I must come face to face with my nemesis.
For unexplainable reasons, it was hate at first sight with the woman who has a permanent scowl when she crosses my path. The woman who has a perfect curve to her shoulder with smooth skin, because Esme wants to be a little temptress and wear off-the-shoulder t-shirts. Sometimes her dirty blonde hair is down or other times up in a messy bun that would still be suitable for my hand to yank her head back toshut her up with my tongue down her throat. Even better, my cock.
Alas, her not-so-stellar personality prevents me from crossing any lines.
Fine.
Today, I will not stab a sharp object into this box with a return address from someplace in Washington state. A far place from here in Everhope, Illinois. I live far enough from Chicago and close enough to my sister and my work for the hockey team, the Spinners, in Lake Spark.
I deal enough with arrogant and cocky people in the hockey industry. Luckily, my cutthroat approach to all legal matters as the team’s legal counsel keeps me from throwing a chair at anyone.
Everhope doesn’t have a lake; we have a serene river surrounded by green trees to escape for a little calm.
The calm only lasts so long. Because every time I turn onto Everhope Road—since whoever named these streets had zero creativity—I lose my peace, and I haven’t even lived here for a year.
My phone vibrating on the counter causes me to abandon the knife.
I see it’s my buddy, Oliver. He also works with me, which begs the question, “Business or personal?” I ask because we work together on the legal team.
“Geez, what a welcome greeting, Keats.” I can hear the humor in his voice.
My brows rise as I shake off my thoughts. “Sorry.” I take one deep breath. “How are you doing today? The birds singing? Coffee still good at Foxy Rox?” My feigned chipper tone causes him to laugh.
“Damn, what’s gotten into you? And fine, yes, and yes.”
“Okay. It’s Saturday, what is up?”
“Well, I’m calling on a personal note.”
My forehead creases. “Not working hard enough?” Normally, Saturdays turn into a workday.
“Nah, I’ll look at the contracts later. Just wanted to check if you want to head to the gym or go for a run? May weather is treating us well.”
Drawing a line from the unopened box out the living room window, I notice the dreaded car of doom approaching. “Not today. I need to be graced with Esme’s presence due to yet another mail mishap.”
Oliver chuckles under his breath. “If I hear about a murder on the news then I am not your alibi. But after your argument that the neighbors will watch for entertainment, we can still meet up. Maybe throw some burgers on the grill.” Oliver lives down the street which means it’s a quick walk.
Dragging my eyes away from the window, I begin to saunter toward the door, tucking the box under my arm. “I really can’t. I need to shop online and find a few gifts my nephew.” That soft spot in my heart that does exist, warms with fondness. My little sister Summer and I are close. She’s been through a lot, and I’m brother bear. Even if that means accepting the new man in her life, Nash, the brother of her late husband who passed last year. But my nephew, Bo? That little one-year-old guy steals the show.
“Fine. But I’ll probably call later for business,” Oliver says.
“Later.” I end the call and set my cell on the side table by the front door.
Deep breath. It’s about to begin.
Swinging the door open, I begin to charge my way to my not-so-lovely next-door neighbor’s driveway. Esme is halfway to standing with her car door open when she notices me, and the eye roll must be instinctual.
