Number Neighbors - Emma Hart Page 0,14

the morning. “How are you?”

Extremely uncomfortable.

“Hi, fine, thanks,” I mumbled down the line before clearing my throat. “Uh, how’s Lucifer?”

“Much better,” Isaac replied to the sound of some shuffling. “The meds are already clearing his congestion, and he’s eating as I’d expect him to. We gave him a full check over and he’s otherwise completely healthy.”

I relaxed, my shoulders sagging as relief swept over me. A part of the tension that had been tightening my neck loosened. “That’s good to know. When can I have him back?”

“I thought he’s not your kitten.”

“He’s not.” I paused. “I’m just, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” He chuckled. “You can come by and get him, or I can bring him back with me tonight and drop him off. Do you have a cat box?”

“A what now?”

“A cat carrier? Something to take him home in?”

“Oh. No. No, I don’t have one. I haven’t taken him anywhere yet. I can get one though and—”

“Don’t worry about it. He’s quite happy here being fussed over by the vet techs in the back. I’ll bring him over tonight.”

I swallowed. “Sure. Okay. That would be great.”

“When do you finish work?”

“Four-thirty.”

“I’ll bring him by around six. Does that work?”

No. It’ll never work. “Sure,” I lied. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

I did not appreciate it.

“It’s no bother. It’s not like you’re out of my way.” Another rumbling laugh. “My next appointment is here. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you.” My voice faded out at the same time the line did, and I turned my head to look in my mirror.

How the hell was I supposed to look that man in the eye?

CHAPTER FIVE – ISAAC

Oh, Bollocks

I didn’t have a patient.

I wasn’t even close to having a patient. I wasn’t even supposed to bloody well be at work this early, but an emergency had brought me in, and it wasn’t worth going home.

Now, I was glad of that.

If anyone would have told me that Hannah was my number neighbor a week ago, I’d have told them to bugger off. That was the most unlikely outcome of the weird yet sexy scenario I’d found myself in for the past several evenings.

Hannah.

My hot, hilarious neighbor.

If I’d been attracted to her before, that had increased tenfold. Of course I’d never moved to do anything about it—it’d been less than a year since I’d broken up with my ex, and I’d thrown myself into work ever since.

Not to mention that nobody wanted to date and potentially dump their neighbor.

You’d be fucked if you needed a cup of sugar from the girl whose heart you’d broken.

Assuming I would have broken her heart. I wasn’t really a heartbreaker, despite what the vet techs here would tell you.

They were also all older than me, bar one tech, so I was pretty sure they were just screwing around with me.

Maybe. Nobody could ever tell with these ladies.

I blew out a long breath and gripped the edge of the exam table. I dropped my head down to stare at the cold blue tiles on the floor, shutting my eyes.

I couldn’t believe this was happening.

I had no bloody idea how I’d kept my cool in that phone call. When the oh-so-familiar number flashed on the screen, I hadn’t even realized why I recognized the unsaved number until I’d already answered and it was too late.

Hearing her voice…

Fuck.

That was all I had for it.

Fuck.

How was I supposed to see her later without my dick getting hard? How was I supposed to look her in the damn eye with the knowledge that she liked it on her knees with her hair being pulled?

How was I supposed to resist the temptation to do exactly that?

Those were three very, very good questions indeed.

This was an unprecedented situation. It wasn’t like I wasn’t used to working under pressure—this job wasn’t all puppy belly rubs and fluffy kittens. It did have a dark, stressful side, and I’d long learned to manage my stress levels and expectations, but I didn’t think knowing how to keep my cool during an emergency operation on a Great Dane would help me here.

If I knew Hannah was my number neighbor and sexting buddy, she knew it, too.

She knew she’d been texting me, and she knew that before I did.

Was she losing her mind like I was? I wouldn’t say I knew her particularly well, not enough to comment on her state of mind at the very least, but I hoped she was.

If she wasn’t, I needed to know how the hell she was doing it.

I