Stripped Love (Guys Next Door #1) - Baylin Crow Page 0,12

"I'll be fine."

He walked over and gripped my shoulder, giving it a little shake. "I hope you know how much you're really welcome here. I've been looking forward to having you around. There are snacks and drinks in the kitchen so help yourself. Get settled and tomorrow you can ride with me to work."

Looking up at him, I grinned. "Sounds good."

He closed the door behind him and whistled the tune of a rock song I remembered always blaring through the stereo when I'd visit as a kid. The familiarity settled over me like a warm blanket.

I passed the day unpacking my clothes, showering and lounging around with my sketchbook, detailing an action scene in the story I'd been working on for months. Focusing on facial features and emphasizing movement, I was lost in the drawing for hours.

For dinner, I raided the refrigerator then freezer and smiled when I found a boxed ice cream cake with a sticky note on it.

Since you didn't bother to invite me to a birthday party, I bought your favorite cake. Happy belated birthday, kiddo. Check the front of the fridge for the card.

I pulled the cold box out and set it on the cabinet before finding an envelope held up by a magnet. Pulling it free, I opened it and found a basic Happy Birthday card that wasn't even signed and… five hundred dollars. My eyes widened as I flipped through the stack of twenties.

The excessive gift was nothing new. Uncle Isaac always seemed to try to make up for my lack of a father when he'd done more than enough just by being there for me. But five hundred dollars? I shook my head. I would just have to work extra hard at the shop, I promised myself.

I grabbed the cake and a fork before heading back upstairs where I proceeded to eat way too much while watching TV. At some point I must have fallen asleep, because the TV had gone on standby when I woke from the food coma.

"Crap," I muttered as I took in the leaking box that sat on top of my covers. "Nice job, Archer."

After I wiped up the mess, I went downstairs, through the rarely used kitchen where a four-chair round table sat on the white tile floor under a plain chandelier. The brown Formica countertops were devoid of appliances other than a coffee maker, toaster and paper towel holder.

I tossed the ruined remaining cake in the trash and headed into the attached laundry room. I shoved my comforter in the washer and dumped the detergent in. The top clanged shut, and I turned the dial. As the hissing sound of the water started, I made my way back to my room and grabbed my sketchbook again before opening the door to the balcony.

The night air welcomed me with a warm breeze that blew my hair across my forehead. I inhaled deeply, and the unexpected scent of a cigarette hit my nose. I followed the cloud of smoke to the neighbor's house. One floor down, someone sat on the patio to the single story home. Their face was hidden in the shadows, but the red cherry from the cigarette glowed in the darkened corner.

Moonlight revealed a notebook, smaller than mine, laid flat on a glass patio table in front of him. Masculine jean-clad legs were visible, sprawled out in a careless way, and so was one arm as his fingertips drummed out some sort of rhythm against his thigh.

My sight caught on his arm. Squinting, I traced the tattoos decorating his skin. Familiar tattoos, I realized. My breathing shallowed and my hands trembled.

There was no way it was him, right? The universe didn't work that way. It wouldn't put me right next door to the only guy that had ever stirred my blood to the point of complete intoxication. A guy I'd thought about an unhealthy amount of times in the days following my birthday. Knowing I'd only been a client to him, while he took up so much of my thoughts, had eaten at me in a way I wasn't familiar with.

I absently shook my head in denial, but the more I studied him, the more certain I grew.

I took in the rings on his fingers, remembering the way the cold metal had felt against my skin. I gasped, the sound exaggerated against the quiet night.

The tapping against his leg stopped, and I held my breath as he leaned forward, bringing his face into the light.

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