dear. Besides, it ain’t a bad thing. You’re not alone in your feelings—Dean makes me horny too.”
My eyes widen and my cheeks heat.
“Now, now. Don’t you two give me that look. I’m old, but there’s still motion in this ocean, and the ocean is definitely in my panties when that man walks through the door.”
She slides her tongue over her lips, and I have never wanted a hole to open up and swallow me as badly as I do in this moment, and that includes the time I walked through Wal-Mart with my skirt tucked into my underwear…my thong underwear.
Lucy takes a sip of her tea and turns her attention back to her book…allegedly.
Maya dips her head toward mine, leaning close to whisper, “So that happened.”
“Unfortunately, it did.”
“Look, it’s not a bad thing if you have a crush on him.”
“Just because he might—and I’m putting a lot of emphasis on that word—maybe get me a little excited in the pants, that doesn’t mean it’s a crush. I can be physically attracted to someone and still hate their guts.”
“Or you can be lying.”
I groan. “Trust me, it is not a crush, Maya. I don’t even kind of like him. In fact, I’ve said many times over the last year that I loathe him.”
“But for no good reason.”
“You’re kidding me, right? There are plenty of reasons!”
“Name one.”
Just one? There are so many reasons to dislike Dean.
He’s obnoxious. Always right about everything. Inserts himself into breakfast with my best friend every single Sunday.
And his worst offense?
The fact that he lives next door. He’s always playing that awful guitar on his balcony or blaring his horrid taste in music at all hours of the day. Screaming at the TV about whatever sport he always seems to be watching.
He’s the worst neighbor ever.
“He wakes up to the same song every damn day.”
“Most people do.”
“But Old Time Rock & Roll repeatedly? It’s—”
She points a finger at me. “That song is a classic. You’re not allowed to trash-talk it.”
“Classic or not, does he seriously have to blast that song at five thirty in the morning including weekends?”
“He works. That’s more than I can say for half the dudes you go out on dates with.”
“But—”
“No. No buts. Could he turn the music down? Sure, but you’re not allowed to fault him for making a living, especially when it involves teaching and making kids’ lives better.”
“You’re only saying that because he’s all buddy-buddy with your kid.”
“So?” She shrugs. “Now name something else that isn’t absurd.”
“Leo.”
“Aw, come on. Leave Leo out of this.”
I point to Dean, who’s still standing in line with Sam because this place is packed on a Sunday morning. “I can’t leave Leo out of this when he brought him here.”
“Leo is adorable.”
“He’s a turtle!”
“But—”
“An emotional support turtle!”
“Yes, but—”
“In a damn restaurant!”
Maya huffs. “You’re being a spoilsport.”
I glance back at Dean, who is now engaged in conversation with another customer about said turtle. They’re cooing at him like they would a baby. Leo’s eating up the attention because he’s as bad as his owner.
“He’s only doing it for attention.”
“Maybe the emotional support isn’t for him but for Leo? Did you ever think about that?”
“Did you ever think that’s the second most ludicrous thing to ever leave your facehole? Surpassed only by you telling me you can get Lyme disease by eating bad limes?”
“I saw it on Facebook!”
“Stay off Facebook!”
“But the drama…so addicting…” she murmurs. “Stop distracting me. We’re talking about actual, viable reasons for hating him.”
“He… He’s…”
“What?” She sits forward, brows raised, waiting for my response. “Attractive? Funny? Friendly? Good with kids? Has a steady job?”
“He steals my pie!”
She rolls her eyes again. “He does not.”
“Yes, he does. Intentionally. Every Sunday. It always happens.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I am not.”
“You sure about that?”
“I might be overstating it a bit, but you know I’m right about it happening often. We either get here too late and he’s already snagged it because it’s Sunday and the good pies always go fast on Sundays with people coming in and out after church taking them all—which is exactly why I want to meet early”—I give her a pointed look, and she shrugs sheepishly—“or he makes some futile excuse to trade whatever garbage he gets with Sam and your gullible little shithead buys it.”
“One, you can order without me.”
“I can’t. Then it’s not a true breakfast date. That’s you running into me when I already have my face stuffed full of pie.”
Ignoring me, she continues. “Two, there is no need for name-calling. Sam is not gullible.”
“He’s not? Because he believed he could get a fever from disco dancing on a Saturday night.”
“He did not. Besides, he’s just trying to be nice to his teacher—something you should be doing. Dean signed up to coach the football team this year, and your nephew likes football.”
“Your point? Sam isn’t my kid. I don’t have to kiss Dean’s ass for the sake of keeping the peace during the school year.”
“Huh. And here I thought you wanted to kiss Dean’s ass.”
“What’s that about my ass?”
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ONE-CLICK TO KEEP READING >
Other Titles by Teagan Hunter
ROOMMATE ROMPS SERIES
Loathe Thy Neighbor
Love Thy Neighbor
Crave Thy Neighbor
Tempt Thy Neighbor
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SLICE SERIES
A Pizza My Heart
I Knead You Tonight
Doughn’t Let Me Go
A Slice of Love
Cheesy on the Eyes
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TEXTING SERIES
Let’s Get Textual
I Wanna Text You Up
Can’t Text This
Text Me Baby One More Time
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INTERCONNECTED STANDALONES
We Are the Stars
If You Say So
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HERE’S TO SERIES
Here’s to Tomorrow
Here’s to Yesterday
Here’s to Forever: A Novella
Here’s to Now
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Acknowledgments
My Marine. I love you. This past year has been challenging in so many ways. I’m only glad that even after spending more time together than we ever have in our entire relationship, we haven’t killed each other. (No, really, FBI. It wasn’t me.)
Laurie. Thank you for being my brain. I’d be nowhere without you.
Caitlin. I can’t shout from the rooftops loudly enough to explain how much I adore you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Julia and Judy for those extra eyes on this baby. I can’t imagine publishing a book without either of you now.
Kristann. Thank you for always being there no matter what time of day or night it is. My life wouldn’t be the same without you in it.
Bloggers & Bookstagrammers. Your support means so much more than I can say. Thank you for sharing every cover, release, and announcement. You’re the real MVPs here.
Tidbits. Thank you for always being there to make me laugh and keep me going.
Reader. I love you. I know there are many authors and books out there, so thank you for taking the time to read this one by me. Giving me a few hours of your time means so much more than you could know.
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With love and unwavering gratitude,
Teagan
About the Author
TEAGAN HUNTER is a Missouri-raised gal, but currently lives in South Carolina with her Marine veteran husband, where she spends her days begging him for a cat. She survives off of coffee, pizza, and sarcasm. When not writing, you can find her binge-watching Supernatural or One Tree Hill. She enjoys cold weather, buys more paperbacks than she’ll ever read, and never says no to brownies.
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