Rogue Devil (The Rourkes #11) - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,22
like I was this past semester, my mind goes back to the last time I had fun. He was so fun. Two plausible theories to explain why I can’t seem to forget him. It makes sense when you look at it objectively. Well, there’s no forgetting him now! He’s right there.
Did Sara know he lived in this building?
I send her a quick text letting her know I got in okay. Then I ask her about Brendan.
Sara: Brendan who?
She didn’t know. It’s the family connection through Phillip just like Brendan said.
Me: Brendan Rourke lives next door.
Sara: …
She’s probably checking in with Adrian about it. It’s night in Villroy, which means they’re both at work at the casino they co-own and run.
I bring my water to the sofa and sink down heavily.
Sara: Adrian says it’s most likely the Phillip connection. Phillip’s friend owns the building. It’s cool though, right? You hung out with Brendan in Villroy last Christmas. Instant friend.
I never told her about my unwanted advance. Too embarrassing.
Me: Yeah, we hung out before.
Sara: Great! Now at least I know you won’t be all work, no play this summer. Have fun! Tell him Adrian and I say hi. Gotta go. Love you!
I text a quick “love you too” back and set my phone on the coffee table. I glance toward the shared wall with Brendan’s place, adrenaline firing through me. Distraction time.
A few minutes later, I’m knee-deep in papers and notebooks as I unpack my boxes. I was lucky to land an eight-week internship focused on cancer genome dynamics at a cancer center affiliated with NYU in the city. This summer is all about work. I’m going to do my research, spend some time putting together med school applications, and study to get a jump on next semester. With my heavy course load, it helps to get a running start. My vibrator will get a lot of action but hey. At least Blaze doesn’t distract me once we’re done. He’s earned the name Blaze for the smoking hot race to the finish. In fact, I’ll use him tonight to take the edge off.
Feeling a little better, I organize a study space for myself using a long side table covered in picture frames. I relocate the frames to some of the end tables scattered around the living room. I hang my work clothes in the bedroom closet—a few skirts and blouses I can mix and match—and put the rest of my clothes in the two drawers left empty for me.
After I finish organizing my stuff, I go out for groceries and head back to my new place. This isn’t too far from where I grew up, so I’m pretty comfortable finding my way around. I put the food away, sit on the sofa, and try to decide what to do first. Should I make dinner? Review the published work of the research director I’ll be working under? Or do I address the problem living next door?
I need to clear the air with Brendan. I’ll feel him out, see if he remembers that kiss, and, if he does, I’ll assure him there’s no worries from this end. Maybe I’ll claim I was drunk that night. No, I’m pretty sure I told him the buzz had worn off by the end of the night. Why am I so direct and honest all the time? It’s a curse. I’m definitely not hanging with him this summer and risking acting on my unwanted lusty impulses. He’s way too appealing to torture myself like that. I just need to stop worrying about the elephant in the room. Right? Ready, set, go next door!
I wander to the kitchen, procrastinating the next-door neighbor problem. It’s near dinnertime. I’ll make a box of mac ’n cheese with a salad. I find a pot, fill it with water, and set it on the stovetop. I sigh. Not feeling it. I’m hungry, but not in the mood to cook. I could get takeout. There’s a stipend with my internship and I don’t have any other expenses this summer. Sara covered my rent, saying it was part of my education. She’s taken care of me my whole life, but now that she has a family of her own, I’m determined to pay for med school, even if it means taking out student loans. She has Henry now and needs to invest in his education.
I pace the apartment, working up my nerve to face the guy next door. He’s just a guy. This doesn’t have