Jude_Signature Sweethearts

by Kelsie Rae

  I had forgotten Cascade detergent when I went to the store earlier today, and I really don’t have time to make another trip. But my dishwasher is full of utensils, glasses, plates, and bowls that I recently unpacked. They’re covered in dust from the trip and need a good wash before I can put them away. Staring at the offending dishwasher while attempting to rub the knot out of my lower neck, an idea comes to me.

  Maybe I can just ask a neighbor? I’m sure there are weirder things people have asked for, right? I need to introduce myself, anyway. Might as well get something out of it.

  When you’ve moved around as much as I have, you see firsthand how helpful people can be to absolute strangers, and I’m hoping to be on the receiving end of that right now.

  My front door squeaks open on its hinges, reminding me to get some WD-40 at the store tomorrow, before I knock on the door across the hall. I grin as I read the welcome mat written in fancy cursive beneath my Nikes. I’m wearing a ratty old t-shirt, worn jeans with a hole in the knee, and a pair of running shoes. An old baseball hat covers my messy dark hair, and I adjust it before raising my hand and rapping my knuckles against the stranger’s door three times.

  I’m greeted with silence as I rock back on my heels.

  I guess they’re not home.

  My feet take a step down the hall. I grudgingly plan to make another run to the store when the door opens a few inches.

  “May I help you?” a groggy voice croaks from the other side. My eyes scan what little I can see of the stranger through the small gap in the door. Ashy blonde hair, porcelain skin, a white tank top, tiny sleep shorts, and legs that go on for miles. Or at least, that’s what I think I see. It’s hard to tell. My mind tries to piece together the masterpiece in front of me like a painter who was only given two of the three primary colors.

  “Hello?” the voice asks, bringing me out of my stupor.

  I clear my throat, “Hi. I’m your new neighbor.” I point my thumb over my shoulder to the door directly behind me. “I was just wondering if you had any dish soap or detergent, by chance?” I’m still speaking through the tiny crack in the door, but I understand her hesitancy. Stranger danger and all that shit.

  An indigo eye scans me from head to toe before deeming me safe. Or safe enough, anyway. She opens the door hesitantly, giving me the full image of the gorgeous creature next door. I feel like I just stepped into the Met and am seeing true beauty in its rarest form. The sight hits me like a sucker punch in the gut.

  “Hi, I’m Indie.” My neighbor reaches out her hand, and I grasp it in mine. My palm practically swallows hers as I shake it twice. Her skin is like silk. There’s no other way to describe it. I’m reluctant to let her go but release her hand anyway.

  “Indie? That’s a unique name,” I note as my lips tilt into a crooked smile.

  She grins in return, her nose scrunching up in the cutest way possible.

  “I know.” She rolls her eyes. “Supposedly, the nurses all commented on my unique colored eyes and it stuck. Thankfully, they didn’t actually go with Indigo, just Indie.” She wipes her hand across her forehead dramatically. “Phew!”

  I chuckle at her short little story along with her dramatic body language.

  “I like it. Reminds me of Indiana Jones, which was my favorite movie growing up.”

  “No way! Me too! I ate ravioli one summer during the monkey brains scene in Temple of Doom, and now I gag every time I think about it!” She proves this firsthand by literally gagging.

  A booming laughter escapes me as I witness her antics.

  “Remind me to never take you out for ravioli,” I tease. My comment causes a light blush to spread across her cheeks, and a light blanket of sexual tension hangs in the air.

  Brusquely, I clear my throat and change the subject. “I’m Rhett, by the way. Rhett Jacobs.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she responds shyly before peeking up at me through her blonde lashes.

  “I’d really hate to be a burden, but would you mind helping me out with some dish soap or detergent? I’ll happily replace it for you tomorrow.”

  “Oh! Yeah, of course!” She saunters into her tiny apartment and leaves the door wide open. My eyes can’t help but watch her curvy hips as they sway back and forth. I almost swallow my tongue from the sight.

  A masterpiece, indeed.

  Hesitantly, I step into the entryway. Because she left the door open, I’m assuming that I’m allowed to enter. When she bends over to retrieve some detergent from beneath the sink, I know I’m a goner. The girl before me is hands down the sexiest creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. Her heart-shaped ass is enough to bring a grown man to his knees, but before I have the chance to get down to my knees and worship her like a goddess, her gorgeous head pops right back up, and she makes her way to the kitchen counter.

  I do my best to look like I wasn’t caught with my hand in the cookie jar while drooling over her, but I don’t think I fool her. Lazily, I scan her apartment and notice it’s almost the exact same floor plan as my own. Which means the hallway to my left should lead to a decent-sized bedroom and a simple bathroom.

  “I like your place,” I mention, noting the soft blue walls, the light yellow couch, and the framed pictures of ocean scenes. The overall atmosphere is soothing and homey. It makes me want to lounge in the family room and put my feet up on the beachwood coffee table.

  “Thanks. I have a thing about beaches,” she admits before filling a Ziploc bag full of dishwasher detergent.

  “Really? What’s your favorite beach?”

  “California is fun, but cold.” She shivers at the thought. “So I think my favorite has to be Ka’anapali Beach on Maui. The water is so warm and crystal clear, and the snorkeling is out of this world!” Indie’s face turns dreamy like she’s being transported to the fish and sea turtles right now.

  “Maui’s amazing. Hell, all of the Hawaiian islands are insane. But you need to go to Maldives one day. There’s this all-inclusive resort where you stay right on the water in these little shacks and fall asleep to the lapping waves. They serve the best Pina Coladas right on the beach, too! The water full-on sparkles, and the palm trees are huge!” I find myself rambling with memories of one of the best vacations ever. I’ve always been a sucker for the beach. “Anyway… you’ll have to go sometime. You won’t regret it.”

  “I’ll definitely keep that in mind for my next adventure.” she smiles, softly. “So, what brings you to New York, Rhett Jacobs?” She offers me the detergent.

  “Work,” I answer simply as I grab the small plastic bag.

  She grins. “Care to expand on that?”

  I shrug. “Not much to tell. I’m somewhere in between an investment banker and recruiter. I search out companies that have a low risk of failing, help them expand their business while hooking them up with investors, and make sure they have the funds to succeed.”

  “Really? That’s fascinating!”

  “Thanks,” I offer, surprised that her expression looks intrigued instead of glazed over like most women I meet when I start talking about my job. “What do you do?” My posture is relaxed as I lean against the doorframe. I’m not quite ready to leave. She’s the most interesting thing I’ve found in this city so far, and I don’t plan to let her slip through my fingers. Yet.

  “I own a bakery. Which is why you caught me sleeping, by the way. I have to be up at three in the morning to get the croissants in the oven.”

  “Now that’s fascinating! How long have you been doing that?” My interest spikes.

  “For as long as I can remember. I started baking when I’d visit my Grandma every weekend and fell in love almost immediately. You know Ratatouille? I’m Remy.” She points to her chest proudly while my brows furrow, trying to process the last piece of her comment.

  “Rata-what?”

  “For real? You’ve never seen Ratatouille? The Disney movie? About a rat who loves to cook? And works in a French restaurant? And follows his dreams?” She peppers me with questi
ons, and her face is so animated, I could pop some popcorn and watch her for hours. Indie’s brows are pinched, and her arms are crossed over her chest like she’s ashamed to call me a neighbor if I don’t know about a rat who likes to… cook?

  She’s beautiful when she’s passionate, though, and I could listen to her talk about Disney characters all day long. Even if it’s going in one ear and out the other.

  “Apparently, I need to watch it,” I concede with a giant grin plastered on my face.

  “Damn right, you do!” she agrees, accepting my surrender.

  Leaning forward, she whispers, “I happen to have it on blu-ray. Do you want me to loan it to you?” From the devious gleam in her eye, you’d think she was slipping me a bag of weed, instead of offering a child’s cartoon movie.

  “Why don’t we make a date out of it? I’ll bring over something that isn’t ravioli, and you can introduce me to this rat chef. How does tomorrow sound?”

  I know I’ve crossed a line when Indie’s face falls. “Oh… um… I can’t.” Her eyes are suddenly very interested in her freshly painted toenails as she shifts from one foot to the other.

  “Alright, then. Thanks for the detergent. I guess I’ll see you around.”

  I try to salvage the conversation, but it seems my suggestion was like pouring an ice-cold bucket of water over her friendly demeanor.

  “Umm… yeah. It was good to meet you. If you ever need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.” She smiles tightly before ushering me out the door.

  Her dismissal packs a mean punch to my ego, but I scramble to recover my verbal fumble.

  “I’ll definitely do that. And the same goes for you. If you ever need anything, I’m just across the hall.” I send her my signature crooked smile before leaving her apartment and entering mine.

  Shrugging off the awkward ending to our little conversation, I focus on the highlights. Her flirtatious smile, those tiny shorts, our common interest in food and beaches... the list goes on.

  I will definitely be looking up Ratatouille in the near future. Afterall, my job is mainly research and paying attention to little details. And she’s definitely caught my attention.

  About the Author

  Kelsie is a new indie author who has loved the amazing community she plunged into. Kelsie likes to spend all of her time with her three kids, an amazing husband, and two fur babies. She’s addicted to sugar and goes through books like she does Ben and Jerry’s ice cream! When she isn’t reading or juggling kids, Kelsie can be found binging the newest television show on Netflix or baking her little heart out.

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