Lucifer saunters over from wherever he had been sleeping his life away and jumps up to sit on the coffee table where he can watch me eat. He’s a beautiful cat, with his midnight black coat and yellow eyes, but the prickliest animal I ever met. His notched ear gives him a roguish air.
He narrows his eyes at me and flicks his tail as if he can read my thoughts. I break off a piece of whatever indistinguishable meat is the protein in this frozen culinary delight and set it in front of him as a peace offering.
He glances down at it, sniffs the air, turns to flash me his kitty rear and jumps down. Under my breath I mumble, “Judgy, persnickety bastard. It’s not that bad.”
I take another bite and sigh. Lucifer is right, this food sucks. I carry the offending plastic tray to the trashcan and dump it. Oh well, guess I’ll have to eat gelato for dinner after all. I’ll endure the hardship.
Heading back to the couch with the container and a spoon, I sit down and try to focus on watching the cooking competition. But my mind keeps circling back to thoughts of Luke, McHottie, and now Gabe.
I hope Gabe is okay and not rotting in jail for grand theft auto, since I haven’t heard from him. I really want to ask him about how to find that amazing little cafe again.Oh, crap, we didn’t exchange numbers,I realize. Not that I want another romantic interest, I just want a friend to eat manna smoothie bowls with.
I debate going next door to check on McHottie just as there is a knock on my door. I walk over, surprised to see the very man I had been thinking of out the peephole like my thoughts had conjured him. I run my hand over my messy bun and glance down at my ripped shirt and leggings.
Shrugging, I open the door to see McHottie standing there with his hands in his pockets, head down. I expect to see a busted-up face, but when he looks up at me, I’m shocked.
“Hey. I’m glad to see you’re okay, but, um, why don’t you have a scratch on you?”
“Good evening. I wanted to make sure you got home safely,” he says in his oddly formal way.
“Yeah, I did. But are you really okay?” I reach out my hand and grab his chin, turning his head side to side, inspecting him for damage, surprised there isn’t any visible.
He takes my hand and steps into me, forcing me to look up into his eyes. He drops my hand and reaches up with both of his, so large they cover my jaw and most of my neck as he leans in, nose to nose, and stares deep into my eyes.
I lose myself in the amber depths of his, my lips parting as I wait for his kiss. He ghosts his lips over mine, whispering against them, “You cannot see him again. You promised me you would not put yourself in danger. Lukeisdanger.”
I frown, pulling out of his grasp. “Luke? Luke isn’t dangerous.”
He shakes his head, narrowing his eyes. I get a flashback to the sinister look on his face the night of the fight. Luke is fire, wild, and unpredictable. Just like fire, he never behaves as I expect, but Luke has yet to actually hurt me. He isn’tdangerous.
But I’m starting to wonder about my neighbor.
“We barely know each other. You give me emotional whiplash you’re so damn hot and cold. For all I know, you’re the dangerous one. And I’m not yours. You can’t tell me who the hell I can and can’t see.”
He steps back, dropping his eyes to the ground. He gazes up at me through his lashes, surprising me when his mouth curves up into his signature panty melting smile. Lifting my hand to his lips, he kisses my new ring with the red stone.
“Oh, my littleRoza,” he growls with a smoldering gaze. “You have no idea just how mine you are.”
I break out of his grip, step backward into my house, and close the door, shooting the deadbolt. I hear him walk down the stairs as I sag against the door. What the fuck was that about? I am not his.
I stomp to the kitchen, muttering about alphaholes, as I get out a rocks glass and throw two skull ice cubes in to pour a shot of tequila over. Probably not the best choice, but necessary, nonetheless. So much for a little R & R.
“I don’t need your help,” I mutter out loud to my traitorous body, who seems more than happy with his declaration. Guess vaginas don’t care about toxic masculinity. “Down girl!”
That damn smile of his gets me in the ovaries every time. I put the melting gelato back in the freezer before it becomes soup and flop back down on my couch, images of my hot but insufferable neighbor dancing through my brain.
Eventually, I click off the TV and drink the last of my tequila, leaving the glass in the sink for tomorrow, get ready for bed, and head upstairs.
Ikick off my slippers and robe, crawling naked under the covers. I’m not super tired after this morning’s sleep, but just want to sprawl out on my bed. Maybe I can just read and mindlessly scroll social media for a little.
I get settled and enjoy a few hours of delightful brain candy. Just as I am setting my alarm for tomorrow, another text comes in from Luke. With a heavy sigh, I open my messages. Good thing I took a nap today, sensing the inevitable chaos that is Luke will interrupt my night. But probably in the very best way.
My Lord
Send me a picture of you.
I roll my eyes. I’m in bed, no make-up, crazy hair. Opening my photos, I scroll through, sending him a cute selfie I took a while ago.
My Lord
