What If You & Me (Say Everything #2) - Roni Loren Page 0,11

the sidewalk, and a redhead on her knees in the barren front garden. Great. So much for a stealth entrance.

At the sound of his tires on the driveway, Andi stood from her spot in the grass and turned his way. She’d piled all of that bright hair on top of her head in some sort of spiky bun. Her knees were covered in dirt, and she was sporting what looked to be a pair of black Doc Martens even though she was dressed in a T-shirt and cut-off jean shorts.

The look shouldn’t do it for him.

She put one garden-glove-covered hand to her hip and waved at him like they were old friends. His mouth went dry and a flood of heat went straight to his dick. Fuck.

His two-year-long dry spell was making him react like a horny teenager. He took a breath and lifted a hand to return the wave. He took his time gathering his things, forcing his libido back in check before he climbed out of the car. He didn’t feel like having a conversation with his neighbor. He’d successfully avoided her for the two weeks since their late-night meeting. But there was no way to avoid it now. Pulling the car back out would be a little obvious. Plus, he was sweaty and disgusting, which insured a brief conversation and a valid excuse for needing to hurry inside.

With another bracing breath, he pushed the car door open and climbed out.

“Hey there,” Andi said, crossing the small lawn and heading toward him.

“Hey.” Hill caught the moment Andi noticed his prosthesis for the first time. Her walk stuttered for a moment, a little freeze of movement, and her attention darted downward, then back up, then down again. But to her credit, she recovered quickly and offered him a bright smile as she stopped in front of him. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d moved out.”

“What?” he asked, momentarily distracted by the sheen of sweat clinging to her skin, the way she smelled like grass and flowers.

She smirked. “You’ve been so good at being quiet, and I haven’t seen you out, so if not for your car, I would’ve thought you were gone.”

“Oh,” he said, snapping back to attention. “Yeah. Still here. I haven’t heard any screams coming from your side either.”

She blinked.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized how bad they sounded. “I mean—not that I’m listening.”

“I wanted to thank you for the tip about the pepper spray,” she said quickly, saving him. “I got canisters for me and my friend.”

Her cheeks had already been flushed from working in the sun, but he noticed the pink had spread to her neck. Way to make the neighbor uncomfortable, jackass. “Oh, good. That’s good.”

There was an awkward silence.

“So…” they both said at the same time.

He nodded for her to go first, but she waved him off. “No, go ahead.”

“I was going to say, so you’re gardening?”

She glanced over her shoulder at her work in progress, then back to him. “Yeah, I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’ve seen a lot of the neighbors planting flowers for spring, and I thought our place could use a little color. Plus, my brain is locked in the dank basement of writer’s block, so I figured some fresh air would be good.”

Our place. A little color. She had no idea how much color she was bringing to this faded house.

“I tried to only buy things the lady at the garden center said were hard to kill,” she added. “We’ll see. I once murdered a cactus, so I’m pretty dangerous.”

He couldn’t help but laugh as he looked down at the tiny woman in her ass-kicking boots. The laugh felt rusty in his throat. “Yes, you look quite lethal.”

She put her hands to her hips, playfully affronted. “Hey, I’m small but mighty, man. I’ve got some badass pepper spray, I’ll have you know.”

He gave her a wry smile. “And write horror novels. I’m sure you murder fictional people regularly.”

“Damn straight.”

“What name do you write under?” He wasn’t sure what his mouth was doing. He was supposed to be saying he needed to get inside, shower, and get to an appointment. Not make small talk. Not ask her about her life.

“A. L. Kohl,” she said. “The horror genre likes an androgynous name. Some men think ladies can’t write scary shit apparently.”

He frowned. “That’s stupid. Women see more horror than anyone.”

She tilted her head, blue eyes narrowing a bit like she