The Reality of Everything - Rebecca Yarros Page 0,5

moment.

But my panties were boy-cut, so there was a prayer of a chance that everything would stay covered, right? Could this possibly get any worse?

There had to be a limit on the amount of humiliation someone could endure.

The screen door shut next door, and I bit my lower lip, the pain reminding me yet again that this was definitely not a dream.

“Come on, Daddy!” Finley yelled.

“I’m coming, honey,” a deep voice replied. The footsteps that followed down the steps were heavy, masculine.

“It’s okay, Miss Morgan. I brought my daddy. He was showering, but now he’s not.”

I opened my eyes to see Finley looking up at me with a smile, nodding her head enthusiastically.

“Thank you, Finley.”

A pair of bare feet appeared next to hers, attached to muscular legs that led to a pair of blue swimming trunks and then abs that disappeared as a white T-shirt slid over his stomach and a recognizable tattoo.

I looked up into familiar, ocean-blue eyes and groaned.

Oh God. Just strike me dead. Right now.

It was Mr. Carolina.

Apparently, there was not a limit on humiliation.

Chapter Two

Jackson

Huh. Well, this was definitely not the way I’d planned on introducing myself to the new neighbor. It was like I’d stumbled into one of those magic acts where the girl was cut in half with a box…except this one sure didn’t seem like the willing-assistant type.

Damn if she didn’t have the legs for it, though.

“Okay,” I said mostly to myself, completing a quick assessment of the situation. She was wedged in the weak spot of the landing, the one I’d suggested Diane and Carl get fixed before they put the house on the market. Hell, I’d been begging them for years to fix it, thinking one of them would meet the same fate.

I forced my gaze upward and found the profile of my new neighbor’s face as red as her Hello Kitty underwear, which was the only scrap of fabric between her exposed ribs and her toes. Underwear I definitely shouldn’t have seen…or taken notice of.

But, in my defense, they were right there in my face.

She’d taken out both horizontal planks, leaving the surrounding wood intact instead of splintering into her, but she’d definitely be feeling those abrasions and bruises up her sides for a while. Her ribs were scraped raw and bleeding slightly in places.

“Finley, stay here, honey. I’m not sure it’s safe to come up the stairs.”

After she nodded, I walked around the staircase and started up the steps, dropping to my knees a few steps beneath the landing, so I could look my very embarrassed neighbor in the eye. Well, I would once she stopped squeezing them shut.

Oh, fuck me. She was the knockout from the beach earlier. The gorgeous one with the hair, and the eyes, and the sundress currently keeping her company above the landing.

“Hey there,” I said softly.

She opened one eye, then the other—like she was hoping I’d disappeared—and I was met with a stunning set of browns, dark at the edges, paling to amber at the centers, and framed by long, thick lashes. Every word I’d been about to speak evaporated from my head. Her eyes were as striking as she was, but there was something about them—a deep, lingering sadness that I bet had jack and shit to do with the predicament she was currently in. I’d seen a flash of it on the beach, but it was even more pronounced up close, and damn if it didn’t trigger a need to save her from whatever caused it, too.

“Hi,” she answered, her southern accent thicker than honey.

“Looks like you could use some help.” I concentrated on not swallowing my tongue. The phrase stunningly beautiful wasn’t new to me, but this was the first time I’d ever been actually…stunned.

“I’m really okay,” she protested with the fakest smile I’d ever seen. It would have almost been comical if I hadn’t already seen her skin and how much pain she had to be in. “My girlfriends will be back any minute, so there’s really no reason to trouble yourself.”

Whoa. Yeah, that accent was deeper than anything the natives spoke with around here, and twice as sexy as that Irish girl last summer who’d rented out the place next to Sawyer’s.

“Trouble myself? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you’re kind of stuck in your staircase.”

“It has not escaped my attention.” She kept that stubborn smile.

“How badly does it hurt? Scale of one to ten?”

Maybe it was because I’d softened my tone or the adrenaline was wearing