by KL Donn
Possessive Neighbor
A Neighbours Novel Book One
KL Donn
Contents
Synopsis
1. Hope
2. Reed
3. Reed
4. Reed
5. Reed
6. Reed
7. Hope
8. Reed
9. Hope
10. Reed
11. Hope
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
About the Author
Also by KL Donn
Copyright © 2020 by KL Donn
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editing by KA Matthews
Cover Design & Formatting by Alluring Write Productions
Created with Vellum
Dedication
For all you naughty neighbor lovers ;)
Synopsis
It's not like I was looking to meet a girl.
Let alone the one next door.
It's a cliché. Hook, line, and sinker.
I don't do those.
But I do, want Hope Carson.
The sexy, shy, introverted girl who can't read emotions but cares too fucking much.
She shouldn't be perfect for me, but I can't imagine life without her now that I've had a taste of her sweet cherry lips.
Hope has secrets. Ones I intend to discover.
Reed Burkhart is a jerk.
He laughs when I stutter.
Smirks when I blush.
And I can't figure out if he likes me or hates me.
For a man claiming to be indifferent, he sure has turned into one possessive neighbor after an all too short, soft, sexy, addictive kiss.
He wants my secrets, my body and my heart.
How do I resist?
1
Hope
The neighborhood is quiet. Calm. Serene almost.
It’s precisely the type of surroundings I need. The kind I spent my teenage years riding my bike in. The residents are friendly, slightly curious, and definitely close. The couple across the street is talking over their white picket fence to their neighbors on the right.
They laugh. They talk. They’ve formed friendships.
Something I lack.
I had friends once.
They died a month ago in a horrible wreck.
Leslie and Miles Lambert weren’t just my best friends, they were my family. They understood my quirks. Embraced them and encouraged me to stop hiding who I really am—a shy introvert who can’t identify with others.
I have alexithymia, which means I have a hard time connecting with people. Reading their emotions. I never know if someone is annoyed with me, laughing at me, or trying to avoid me.
It’s not often I have people accepting of who I am.
Leslie and Miles did.
Until they couldn’t.
The crash was so unexpected. They were getting ready for a baby and about to close on the perfect house. One they’d dreamed of owning for as long as I’d known them.
One day they were there, and now, they’re not, and I’m not entirely confident about how I’ll go on without them.
“Hey, kid, stop daydreaming and tell me where you want this crap.” I spin to face the moving truck only to see my older brother, Luca, and some of his friends holding the larger, heavier boxes, waiting for my direction.
“The spare room, please.” I smile softly, my dark hair falling to the side.
My new house is nothing fancy. It’s a modest size and will work for as long as I need it. The cute duplex has a small front porch, perfect for a wicker chair in the summer when it’s not too hot. There's an upstairs, middle floor, and basement, so plenty of room to grow. The fenced-in backyard is a plus also.
After Luca convinced me to get the intermediate SUV instead of the ordinary car I was going to purchase in a couple of weeks, I’m glad for the large garage as well.
Striding towards the moving truck, I begin to climb in the back when hands on my hips stop my momentum. “I don’t think so, Hope.”
“I can help.” I glare at my brother as he puts me on my feet beside the truck.
Planting my hands where he let me go, my dirty look deepens. He laughs at me. “I told you, this is why we’re here, kid. We have the muscles, we do the lifting.”
“And I told you, the furniture and heavy boxes. I was only going to grab the small ones,” I explain. I’m not entirely useless.
Rolling his eyes at me, he shakes his head, enters the truck, and comes back a second later with a blanket. “Take this, then tell them where you want the couch positioned.”
I can’t tell if he’s angry or amused because he’s scowling yet smirking, so I nod my head and walk away. I hate how insecure I still am about that. Especially with Luca. He knows I can’t read emotions. My own are difficult enough, but others are a mystery and painful to figure out. You’d think after twenty-two years that I’d be comfortable with him about it.
“Amused, Hopeless, I’m amused!” he calls out as I’m about to step up on the porch.
Glancing back at him, I grin and nod. Before I get a chance to reply, though, my new neighbor opens his door with an unreadable expression on his face and steps outside.
Unsure of myself with a stranger but not wanting to be rude, I greet him. “Hello, I’m Hope Carson, your new neighbor.” I plaster a smile on my face because Leslie always told me that people like it, it makes them feel welcome.
He doesn’t seem to since he doesn’t move or say a thing.
I look back to the truck to see Luca moving things around, unaware of my new neighbor's presence. The more time that passes, the more uncomfortable I become, and I begin to second guess myself.
“Umm, how are you?” I walk up my steps, so I don’t feel so tiny as I speak to him. It doesn’t help that he’s as big as Luca.
The man’s eyes narrow, and it’s then I identify that he’s angry about something, but I’m not sure what. Whispering, “I’m sorry,” I walk inside, trying to push him from my mind.
“You’re being loud,” he clips out, and I’m stopped mid-way through the door.
“We are?” It’s the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday. The realtor mentioned this was a good time to move in because people worked during the week for the most part, so we wouldn’t be disturbing their relaxing evenings.
“Yeah, banging, swearing. You’re being loud,” he says again.
“We’ll be quieter,” I respond. The last thing I want to do is get on the bad side of my new neighbor.
He frowns at me before saying, “Good.” Looking like he wants to add more, I wait. But nothing else comes, so I smile, shrug a shoulder, and walk inside.
I don’t need to be told that he’s wondering what’s wrong with me. I see that same questioning look a lot, and it’s always followed by a number of rude questions. While people usually just think I'm weird, they don’t bother to consider I might be lacking due to a mental defect and not because I’m a broken mess.
Though, it’s true, I am broken. Unequivocally broken.
Well, my brain is, anyways.
“That guy hassling you?” Coen, my brother’s best friend since grade school and my pseudo big brother, asks as he stares at the other man. I missed Coen when he was deployed and then struggled afterwards for so many years. Having him back is reassuring.
“No. He asked that we keep it down. The swearing and loud noise was bothering him. Cou
ld you tell the others, please?” Coen furrows his brow as I walk past him, but I’m too excited about the house to try and decipher his meaning.
I can hear Luca step up onto the porch, and he and Coen are speaking in hushed tones while I show their other friends where I want the furniture.
Looking at the couch placed in the middle of the room, I decide I don’t like it. “Maybe not there,” I say as I glance around the room. Noticing two of them rolling their eyes at my indecision, I tell them, “Never mind, there is fine,” with another obligatory smile.
Pretending like I understand everyone is exhausting, and with my current condition, it’s doubled up. I find myself nearly too tired to stand much longer.
“Hopeless?” Luca calls as I slink onto the sofa. “You alright?”
“Just tired. Could you and Coen come back tomorrow to help with the rest?” I stare up at him. I hate how distraught I become when I’m fatigued. My symptoms become worse too.
“Yeah, Co and I will be back with breakfast at nine, but I’m going to stop in around sundown to check on you. Make sure you’ve eaten.” He brushes the hair back from my face like our mom used to do, and I give him a genuine smile this time. “Take care of little bit there while I’m gone.” He winks and clears everyone out.
My tears freefall as my body wilts into the overstuffed cushions of the couch. I feel small flutters of life in my stomach as I finally relax and happiness—the one emotion I can always identify—blossoms in my chest.
I may not have been able to say goodbye to Leslie and Miles, or even make sure they got to meet God’s greatest creation, but I am still going to give it life.
When Leslie found out she couldn’t have children over a year ago, I offered to be their surrogate. It was an easy decision for me because they helped me out so much. They brought me to life. The least I could do was deliver them one.
At four months pregnant, I’m embarking on a life I never knew I would.
As a single mother.
Reed
I knew my new neighbor was moving in this weekend. The realtor who sold the other half of my duplex mentioned it a couple of weeks ago when she was collecting the property's keys from me. The previous owners left in a hurry and hadn’t had time to meet with her, so they were dropped off with me.
At the time of our last meeting, I told her the weekend wouldn’t be a problem—I typically work the day shift. However, three days later, my captain requested that I train a new rookie on the night watch.
Sleeping during the day is hard enough. Add in someone moving in with the help of what appeared to be a football team, and they don't mix.
However, seeing her, listening to her speak, I became an asshole because her beauty knocked me on my ass. The way she smiled, though, that's what caught my attention. To anyone not paying attention—which I suspect happens often—they wouldn’t have recognized the sadness in her stare when her face spoke of happiness.
I don’t know what it is about her, but there’s something different about Hope Carson. Something she tries to hide from the world.
Watching the men who were helping her unload leave, my curiosity gets the best of me. Once they’ve cleared the driveway, leaving the moving truck behind, I hop the railing between our porches and knock on the door. Waiting a beat for sounds of movement, I knock again.
“Come in!” I hear called out and scowl. Does the woman not have any self-preservation?
After opening the door, my gaze roams the room to see boxes in nearly every corner and the couch in the middle of the room, facing a white wall.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I snap.
She sits up so quickly she nearly falls off the couch. Jumping forward, I grab ahold of her arm and pull her back into the cushions, nearly toppling forward myself.
A short breath of air away from her face, and I can see she’s been crying. Not just little tears either. This girl is upset. “What’s wrong?” The protector in me will do almost anything to stop a woman from crying.
“Nothing”—she wipes her face with the sleeves of her baggy sweater—“just overwhelmed.”
That fucking fake ass smile is back.
My jaw clenches.
“Liar.”
“I am not!” Pushing me back, she stands up and grabs one of the frilly pillows off the couch, holding it to her chest.
“You are. I’m a cop, and I’m trained to recognize when I’m being lied to.” Crossing my arms, I dare her to dispute me.
“You’re very rude,” she smarts out instead.
Almost immediately, I can see she regrets the insult.
Before she can apologize, my hand smacks my chest in mock pain. “I’m hurt. You don’t know me, how can you say I’m rude?” I give her a cocky smile to match the sarcasm in my tone, but the way she watches me, I can tell she’s trying to work something out in her head, only I’m not sure what.
“I’m so sorry.” Those damn tears hover again. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
What the hell?
“I was kidding,” I try to reassure her.
“Y–y–you were?” I laugh at the way she cocks her head to the side and nod. “Dammit!”
“What?” I stand up straighter; something is clearly wrong. My investigative nose is tingling about it too.
“Nothing. Was there something you wanted?” Her words are cordial, polite even, but I can feel the distress oozing off her.
“Not really, no.”
“Oh, okay.”
We both stand, staring at one another, waiting for the other to say something. The longer the silence, the more uncomfortable she becomes. I know she loathes this awkward in-between moment we’re having, but it gives me a feel for who she is. And who she is, is someone I’d like to get to know more. I’m attracted to her, sure, she’s a beautiful woman, but it’s more than that. She has a vulnerable innocence about her that I’m dying to explore.
“Can I take you for dinner?” I ask, not ready to leave her company yet.
Hope turns around, looking for someone else in the room, I think, before pointing to herself. “Me?”
Laughing softly, I nod my head, “Yeah, Hope, you.”
“Why?” Her confusion is clear.
She makes me a little sad. “I find you interesting.” Stepping closer to her, she doesn’t back away from me like I thought she would. When I grip her elbows in my hands, however, her body tenses.
“I want to know more about you, pretty girl,” I whisper, leaning closer. Her eyes widen, and I give her a chance to pull away before slowly lowering my lips over hers.
She’s soft, unsure, sweet.
So goddamned shy.
I don’t push for more. I don’t even know why I pressed for this innocent touch, but holy shit, I want more.
“I don’t know your name,” she mumbles against my mouth as a shiver works through her frame.
Pleased that she’s not unaffected, I respond, “My name is Reed Burkhart. I’m a sergeant with the Jacksonville PD, and today I was a dick to you when I already knew you were moving in. Please let me take you for dinner.” I’m not above begging.
“Reed.” She whispers my name as I pull away from her, and my damn dick weeps for her to do it again.
“Jesus,” I groan. “I really want to kiss you.”
“I thought you just did?” She purses her lips.
“No, pretty girl, that was just a taste. I want the whole course now.”
“I see,” she replies, but I can tell she doesn’t, so I take a step back, giving her room to breathe.
“So, dinner. Was that a yes?” I give her my most charming smile, but she still has a perplexed look on her face. Confused as to why I want to get to know her.
Hell. I’m confused too.
Dating your neighbor is about as bad as dating your best friend's sister.
Hope
Dinner?
Do neighbors go to dinner together?
Are we just neighbors after that kiss?
; What did that kiss mean?
I’m so befuddled.
I hate feeling this way. Especially when it comes to men. I've never been good at figuring them out. Reed, being hard to read, doesn’t help either.
“Hope?” He stares down at me.
“Why?”
He looks perplexed. “What do you mean, why?”
“Why do you want to take me to dinner?” Focusing on that is much simpler than focusing on the kiss. My lips still tingle.
Taking a step back from me, he crosses his arms. “If you don’t want to go out, that’s fine, just say so.”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I force the tears back that are threatening to gather because I can’t let him see how upsetting this is for me. I don’t know if he’s angry, though, I suspect he is.
Always be real, Hope, Leslie’s voice whispers in my ear. She would tell me that when I got in a situation where I didn't understand someone’s intentions, then I'd have to be honest about what I’m thinking.
Clearing my throat, I inhale a breath and meet his intense stare, no matter how difficult it is for me to do so. “I’m not used to being asked out by anyone but my brother or his friend, Coen, so it’s confusing for me.”
He blinks.
I hold my breath.
“Men are idiots,” he mumbles quietly. “I’m willing to bet you’ve been asked out plenty and don’t even realize it.” He grins now, and I intake a sigh of relief.
“I doubt it,” I mutter.
“Oh, trust me, I’m right. Just say yes to me.”
I realize I want to. But the baby in my belly reminds me otherwise.