Right Next Door

by A. J. Pryor

  “She had a rough day.” I look up to see the head nurse of this unit.

  “Hey, Susie.”

  She nods and walks further into the room. “She’s been asleep for the past few hours.”

  Leaning down, I kiss Emily’s bald head and stroke her tiny forearm. “I had lunch with her earlier, what changed?”

  “Dr. McAdams said her white blood cells dropped. She’ll be okay in the morning.” Susie is checking her vitals, and I can’t thank her enough for all she does for the children on this floor.

  While that fatal accident stole my career, it changed Emily’s life forever, even more than mine. I’d kept tabs on her over the past few years and when I found out she was sick and her foster parents couldn’t handle the stress of taking care of a sick eight-year-old girl, I made her my responsibility. Visiting when the staff allows, helping cover the cost of any medical procedures the state says aren’t necessary. I will give this little girl whatever she needs to survive. The more loved she feels, the better chance she’ll walk out of this place cured, and in the past nine months, she’s become my sole focus.

  Unfortunately, her attorney, Thomas Feeley, the biggest jackass on the planet, wants me to disappear. He knows my involvement in that accident, and in his legal opinion, my presence is not in the best interest of the child. He’ll stop at nothing to limit my time with Emily.

  “I hear there’s a family interested in adopting her,” Susie says.

  That instantly gets my attention. “Who?”

  She shrugs, “No clue, but she’s hoping to meet them next week.”

  “I want to be there—at the meeting. It’s only right I have a say in what happens to her after she gets released from here.”

  Susie’s eyes soften, and her shoulders relax; I don’t like the look she’s giving me. “Damian, you and I both know they’ll never allow that.” She reaches up and places her hand on my shoulder. “Her attorney has been clear as day, he wants her placed in a family with a mother and a father. He wants a happily ever after for Emily. A single dad doesn’t fit into that description.”

  As effortlessly as I can, I shrug her hand off me. “I’m not asking to adopt her, only to have a say in what’s best for her.”

  “Well, whatever you do Damian, be careful. I don’t want to see Emily’s health slip because you were suddenly banned from this room.”

  Hating every word that just escaped Susie’s lips, I leave Emily to sleep and head home. Pulling into my parking spot, it looks like Addison is here, too. Screw Reed. If she’s home alone on a Friday night, I’m going to see what she’s up to.

  I quickly take a shower. As I’m turning off the hot water, I hear something crash and break on the other side of the wall. On high alert, I throw on some clothes and step outside to scout out the situation.

  It’s eerily quiet.

  A car door slams to my left and takes off. I place my ear up to her front door, but can’t hear a thing, so I knock. All I get in return is complete silence. Looking over the railing to the carport, her black Jeep Cherokee is in the same position it was two hours ago. I knock again, harder this time.

  The door flies open, slamming against the inside wall, and momentarily startling me. “What now!”

  At first, I’m caught off guard by her irate greeting, but as she stands frozen in the doorway, her eyes grow wide in surprise, and a blush shadows her ivory face.

  Damn. She’s beautiful.

  I have to bite my lip to stifle a grin.

  “I’m sorry. I thought you were somebody else.” Her tongue darts out and licks nervously at her lips. An intense desire to capture it between my teeth and slide it between my own lips spikes through me.

  Leaning casually against her doorframe, I cross my arms over my chest. “I heard something crash. Is everything okay?”

  Her shoulders drop slightly, and her hard eyes soften, meeting mine. “Yeah, everything’s fine. A friend made me angry, and I threw a vase at the wall.”

  This time I can’t hide my amusement. “You either have a very short fuse or an asshole for a friend.”

  The tension slips further from her shoulders, and she smiles at my remark. “It’s the latter.”

  Shit, so maybe model dude is her boyfriend. What am I doing here? I don’t have time in my life for shit like this, but I also can’t seem to make my feet walk away.

  “Well, I can promise I’m not an asshole, and I’m not doing anything tonight. Do you want to grab a drink?” She looks down at her watch and bites her bottom lip in contemplation, her hesitancy making me uneasy.

  “Come on, Green Eyes, it’s only nine o’clock.” Pathetic, I’m begging a girl I should be running from to have a drink with me.

  Those eyes instantly meet mine and are filled with a sudden shine that wasn’t there a minute ago.

  “Do you want to come in and watch American Ninja Warrior with me?” The request comes so quickly I almost miss it. In fact, the only part I understood was that she wants me to come inside her place. Hell yeah, I’m coming inside. But first, I need to know what we’re doing because at this moment, what my dick hears is ‘coming inside’ and it has its own idea as to what that means.

  Suddenly she’s laughing, and it’s awesome. Her entire face brightens, and her eyes twinkle like I’ve never seen. Her happiness is settling in my chest and making me grin at her like a damn schoolboy.

  “You have no idea what I’m talking about do you?” Her laughter subsides and leaves her with a smile that is . . . stunning.

  “No clue. Only that you asked me in, and yet, I’m still standing in your doorway.”

  She moves to the side and waves me through. Her apartment is decorated in all white. White couch. White walls. White fuzzy rug. Even a white lamp. I move towards the couch, and she goes into the small kitchen off the entryway, which I notice is also white. She comes back out with a broom and begins to sweep up the broken vase that I now see all over the floor. Grabbing the dustpan, I help her.

  “Thanks,” she says.

  Taking the broom from her, my hand purposely slides over hers. Shit, her skin is soft compared to my rough calloused hands. “You’re welcome.” She stands a little straighter as I remove the broom from her grip. Going back into her kitchen, I throw the broken pieces in the trash and head out to her family room, grabbing the bowl of microwave popcorn she’s left on the counter.

  “Do you want a beer?” she asks.

  Throwing a few popped kernels into my mouth, I grin at her. “Sure.” I’m looking at a photo of her and an older man standing in front of the Eiffel Tower. “This is all I have.” Walking back into the room, she hands me a Corona.

  “It’s great.” I place the bottle on the table and point at the photo. “Is this your dad?” Her eyes scan the picture with pleasure, all trace of the anger she’d displayed earlier completely gone.

  “That’s him. We took that trip ten years ago when I graduated high school.” She’s fumbling with the remote control and scanning through shows that keep popping up on the screen.

  Setting the photo down, I briefly wonder about her mom and if she was in Paris with them as well, but the thought quickly fades as she sits beside me, settling into the deep white cushions and letting out a contented sigh.

  My body has never before been so aware of another human being. Her hand is approximately three inches from mine, her shoulder a little further. Her dark hair is pulled back into something messy behind her head, a stray piece falling down her silky white neck and resting just above her shoulder.

  She pulls her legs off the floor and crosses them. For the first time I notice she is wearing shorts, her bare thigh just within my reach. I curl my left hand into a fist, willing it to stay put and not extend out and stroke her soft, toned skin.

  I kick off my Nikes and stretch my long legs out underneath her coffee table, attempting any means possible to relax and not act like I want to jump her bones, which is exactly what I want to do.

  “Okay, watch this guy, he’s a
bout to do the Salmon Ladder, it’s a total dream crusher.” She’s completely mesmerized by the television, and I can’t stop staring at her.

  “What’s a dream crusher?”

  “It’s something I made up because that one event seems to always knock people out of the competition, crushing their dreams of moving on.”

  She has no clue the effort it’s taking for me not to lie her down on this couch and kiss the hell out of those lips. No clue that my heart is thumping loudly in my chest with how much I want to touch her or that she smells like the fresh morning air I breathe in on my early runs.

  Doing whatever I can to take my focus off the effect she has on me, I watch the show. The Salmon Ladder is intense, men and woman taking a stick and jumping from peg to peg without touching the ground. I’m pretty sure if given the chance, I could tackle the Salmon Ladder. But the show itself is extreme. An obstacle course made to defy the human body; it’s right up my alley.

  As the clock ticks on the final competition, she grabs for my hand and squeezes. “Oh my God I can’t take it! What if he falls?”

  An electrifying jolt shoots through my blood at her touch, shocking me, and all I can think to do, is squeeze her hand back. Because I don’t want this dude to fall off the Salmon Ladder and I don’t want the show to be over, ending my night in Addison’s apartment. But in reality, I don’t want to let go of her hand.

  The contestant makes it to the final round and we both stand and cheer at the television.

  I’m still holding her hand.

  The urge to pull her to me and wrap her in my arms overwhelms me, and if I don’t let go of her petite fingers soon, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  “I have to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” She darts off towards the back of her apartment, slipping her hand free of mine.

  Damn. I need to get a grip.

  I’m left standing in her living room, not sure what to do with myself. Grabbing the remote control, I scroll through her DVR list. This chick is a reality show goddess. Everything from Survivor to The Voice to Master Chef is recorded here. I continue to search for something else we can watch, because I’m not tired, and I really don’t want to leave—not yet anyway.

  I sense her walk back into the room, and my focus is immediately drawn to her. Wanting to kick myself for not noticing her bare legs when she was standing at the front door, I now can’t seem to peel my eyes off them. She’s tiny, can’t weigh much more than one hundred and ten pounds, but she has curves that make her sexy as hell. Her legs are graceful, simply toned, and perfectly proportioned leading down to her slender feet with meticulously pedicured pink toenails.

  Slowly I stand and greet her. “You watch the Kardashians?” I ask jokingly.

  Her gentle laugh curls through me. “What can I say? I’m a reality show slut.”

  She yawns.

  I can take a hint. Sitting down, I slide my feet into my shoes.

  “You’re leaving?” I sense disappointment in her voice.

  Not wanting to push my luck, I stand and walk towards her. “It’s late and you’re tired.”

  Her mouth opens to respond as Arctic Monkey’s “Do I Wanna Know?” begins in the distance.

  In an instant, the easygoing demeanor she’s worn all night fades, and a faint smile with a touch of sadness appears.

  I realize the music is coming from her phone. “The asshole?” I ask.

  Silently she nods but doesn’t make a move to grab her phone.

  “Are you going to answer it?”

  She gently shakes her head as she holds my stare.

  “Do you want me to leave?” I should be running for the front door, not needing to get myself involved in whatever drama is plaguing her life, but I can’t get my legs to move.

  Indecision wars in her eyes as her nostrils flare slightly and she stands in the middle of her living room staring at me.

  I didn’t want him to leave, but I didn’t feel right asking him to stay. He made the decision for both of us, kissed me on the forehead, and let himself out. I hadn’t seen him the rest of the weekend, and I was definitely looking.

  He probably has a girlfriend, and I . . . have baggage.

  Matt wants me back, and I can’t deny the sliver of happiness those words brought me, the satisfaction that after five years of loneliness, I may get my happily ever after. He’d plugged his number into my phone, setting the ring tone to that crazy song.

  “Don’t give me an answer just yet, Addy. Only know that I’ll be back. Every time this song plays, it’s me, doing what I should have done five years ago. Crawling back to you.” He kissed me, and then . . . he left. With a promise to return soon, he left me . . . again, as I stood on my doorstep with swollen lips, a guilty conscience and a heart that felt like it had more cracks than I know what to do with, a scenario that felt entirely too familiar.

  His wife’s name is Helen.

  It was easier when I could call her the wife. Adding a name to the description makes her real and ruins my fantastical life, that no matter how hard I deny it, I still secretly dreamed would one day come true.

  But then Damian knocked on my door, and the cracks in my heart eased, the guilt began to fade, and a faint feeling of hope began to bloom somewhere deep inside, as I moved Matt to the back of my mind and enjoyed the company of my new neighbor.

  It was impossible not to notice the hint of sexual tension that rested between us. His dark olive skin had been flush with excitement at the completion of the Salmon Ladder. When he grabbed my hand, I didn’t want him to let go.

  How was it possible that in the span of thirty minutes, my heart went from cold and angry, as I watched Matt walk away from me—bruising my heart again, to once more beating, like it was running the race of a lifetime?

  The urge to run my fingers through his dark hair electrified my hands, having to practically sit on the damn things so I didn’t subconsciously inch them closer to his side of the couch. Nothing about that night felt right, until Damian walked into my apartment—suddenly everything fell into place.

  Something about him makes me want to change the course of my life, because falling into Matt’s devilish hands is not going to work.

  “I like the mug,” a deep but casual voice says to my right. I turn to see Damian, shirtless and deliciously yummy walk onto his balcony, a plain black coffee mug gripped in his strong right hand, a soccer ball tucked inside the curve of his arm.

  “It’s one of my favorites.” This one happens to be shaped like a toilet bowl.

  “No nudie girls today?” I ask, as I nod at his coffee cup.

  An easy smile begins at the contours of his mouth as he places the ball on the ground. “Nah, thought I’d give you a break.”

  I smile inwardly at his relaxed demeanor. I hadn’t seen him since he left my place Friday night, and he was quickly becoming my favorite morning routine.

  Checking the clock on my phone, I realize there are only ten more minutes to enjoy the ocean view before I have to get going.

  This morning, my eyes seem to wander to the view next door instead of the glistening blue sea. I can’t help but admire his powerful body standing at the edge of the balcony, focusing his gaze on the endless ocean. His large masculine hands cupped around that boring mug.

  Leaning forward, he grabs a gray T-shirt off the table. Turning in my direction, he throws it over his head, covering himself.

  “Whoa. Wait a minute.” I sit straight up. “You just blocked my morning view.”

  His brow wrinkles in confusion.

  “You have that V.”

  He looks at me strange “V?”

  “You know the V, the one that starts at your hips and goes . . . down?”

  He blushes and easily laughs, the sound rippling through me and settling comfortably in my gut.

  “When you have the ‘V’ you never cover the ‘V’. It’s like a rule.”

  “What would you like me to do, Addison?” My name sliding out of his mouth in tha
t deep sensual voice may be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, causing my breath to momentarily catch, and my stomach to cinch tightly.

  Wetting my lips with my tongue, I look into his eyes. “Take the shirt back off. What you’ve got going on there . . .” I point at his body, my finger moving furiously from head to toe, “should never be covered—if it can be helped.”

  His eyes grow wide in amusement, and a smile that sends my pulse into rapid overdrive erupts on his face, making it impossible not to turn my own lips up in an easy grin.

  “I’ll try to remember that.” He steps towards me, his eyes dancing with mischief. He slowly reaches behind him and pulls the shirt back over his head, treating me to the jaw dropping sight of his abs.

  Content that all is finally right in the world I make small talk. “How was the rest of your weekend?”

  He shrugs nonchalantly and sits down to drink his coffee. “Same old thing, a little of this a little of that.”

  I stare at him, dumbfounded. “You are such a guy.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” he asks slightly affronted but also trying not to laugh.

  “A little of this a little of that? Could you be more vague?”

  Shaking his head and kicking his feet up on the table, he gives me a little more insight into his world. “I was in Malibu visiting my family.” Setting his coffee cup down, he turns his dark gaze my way. “What about you, Green Eyes, how did you stay busy this weekend?”

  My mind doesn’t come up with the groceries I bought, the marathon of American Ninja Warrior I watched, or the dinner I had with Paige. Nope, it instantly thinks of the dirty fantasies I had of Damian all weekend, naked, sweaty and between my legs. Heat creeps up my neck and into my face.

  “That’s an interesting shade of pink you just turned Addison, care to enlighten me as to what’s got you blushing so deep?” His humorous tone makes me shift in my chair.

  Sitting straighter I lock eyes with his. “My weekend was about as interesting as yours.”

  Belting out a huge laugh, he stands and comes closer in my direction. “I have to go meet Reed, but I’ll be around this week. Stop by and say hi.” Resting his hands on the railing that separates our balconies, he leans over placing his ruggedly handsome face right in front of mine. “I can guarantee it will be more fun than what,” he pauses and dangerously grins, “or who, you were doing this weekend.”