Number Neighbors - Emma Hart Page 0,40
course you do.” I rolled my eyes and put the key in the front door. “Is that chocolate fudge?”
“Uh-huh. You want some?”
“Depends. Is there a price?”
“There wasn’t going to be, but I can arrange it.”
“Shut up,” I muttered, letting myself inside. I left the door open for Isaac to follow me because I knew he would.
I was right.
He brought himself and the remainder of the cake inside, shutting the door behind him. Our entrance must have disturbed Lucifer, because he was lying on his bed eyeing us with a disdain only a cat could hold.
It was pretty impressive, to be honest.
If I came back in another life, I hoped it would be as a cat.
I still wasn’t sure if I was a cat person, but I could live as one. Totally. All that sleep was the stuff of dreams, wasn’t it?
I put my things down on the island and bent down to scratch Lucifer behind the ears. He lifted his head and let out a tiny purr, closing his eyes as I moved my nails against his fur.
“Still not your cat?” Isaac asked, grinning.
I looked over at him and smirked. “You have a little chocolate on your face.” I tapped my left cheek, just to the side of my mouth. “Just there.”
He wiped his face, getting the chocolate sauce off. “Did I get it?”
I nodded, standing up. “Is there any left? That’s the best cake Grandma makes. She never gives me any unless I do something for her. She’s a real exploiter.”
“Why do you think she gave me this? She wants me to build her bookshelf and she promised me cheesecake. This thing is a gateway drug.” He put the plate on the island. “Bloody hell. She’s got me.”
“And that’s how she does it.” I sighed and opened the fridge. “Beer?”
“Sure. It’s been a long day.”
I pulled out both a bottle of beer and the bottle of wine from last night. After pouring myself some wine, I uncapped Isaac’s beer and passed it over to him.
“Thanks. Wanna finish that cake?” He raised his eyebrows and wiggled them.
I fought a laugh. “No, it’s fine. You go ahead. She’ll need more dust jackets for her dirty books from eBay soon enough.”
“What?”
“They cover their smut with dust jackets from eBay. She makes me buy them classic jackets so they can read it in public.” I almost rolled my eyes. “None of them can use eBay. They can barely dial a number on their phones.”
Isaac snorted and pushed the plate to me. “Go ahead. Really. She’s making me a cheesecake, and I did interrupt your night to come and make sure they went home.”
“It’s not like I was doing anything important,” I replied. “I was just watching Netflix with no bra.”
His gaze dropped to my chest. Where I still was not wearing a bra.
I cleared my throat.
He jerked his attention back up to my eyes. “Take the cake, Hannah.”
“All right. If you insist.” I took the plate and grabbed a clean fork, then dove in to the third of the slice that he’d left. The cake melted in my mouth, the rich chocolatey goodness exploding with flavor. “OhmyGodsogood,” I moaned.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at the floor. “Please do not moan like that while you’re not wearing a bra. It’s highly uncomfortable for me.”
I closed my mouth around the fork. Ah. I could understand how that might be problematic for him.
So naturally I did the sensible thing: moaned.
Deliberately.
Loudly.
“Stop it,” he ground out. “You’re doing it deliberately.”
“Me? No.” I grinned and stabbed the fork into the cake again. “I would never.”
He stared at me flatly and swigged his beer. “A couple of days ago, I would have believed that, but you’re feisty tonight.”
“Feisty? How am I feisty?”
Another long stare.
“All right, fine. A little. The oldies rile me up,” I admitted, putting the fork down. “They know better than go prancing around bars. It’s worse that they lied about it before. It’s like controlling teenagers and stopping them drinking cheap booze in a park.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Been there. The teenager, that is. We used to get people to buy us these big ass bottles of cheap cider that were like two-pounds-fifty for two liters and we’d be hammered by nine p.m. When we were fifteen, my friend’s girlfriend threw up in front of police officers. We had to tell them she was ill.”
“Fifteen? You were out drinking at fifteen?”
“There was nothing else to do.” He shrugged, putting his