Rogue Devil

by Kylie Gilmore

  At the same time, I turned Chloe down for a good reason. Walking away from her that night was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

  Still, I find myself wondering how she’s doing. I looked up how to get into Harvard Medical School. Did she do well on the MCAT? (That’s the med school admissions test.) Is she happy? Is she single?

  Not my business.

  I get off the sofa, restless. It’s a sunny June day. I should go for a run, burn up some calories in anticipation of drinking at a bar tonight. I’ll see who’s around to go out later. I grab my sneakers from the bedroom, sit on the end of the bed, and lace up. Strange how unappealing the bar pickup scene’s been recently.

  I open the front door and jog downstairs just as someone’s coming up with a pile of boxes stacked higher than their head. It’s definitely a woman judging by the small hands.

  “Lemme help you with that,” I say.

  She halts and peeks around the boxes. “I got it.”

  I freeze. Her hair is blond, but I know that face. Those green eyes, her fine features, the bow in her top lip. “Chloe?”

  “Brendan?”

  “What’re you doing here?” we say at the same time.

  I laugh. “I live here.”

  “Me too. Just for the summer.”

  I take the top two boxes off the pile, leaving her with one, and head back upstairs. “Second or third floor?”

  “Second.”

  Adrenaline fires through me. That’s where I live. There’s four apartments on the second floor, and my next-door neighbors, a couple, just left yesterday to spend the summer at his family’s home in Italy. Chloe is moving in right next door to me.

  Holy hell.

  Questions race through my mind—how did she end up my neighbor? What’s she doing this summer? Does she remember that kiss?

  “Did you know I lived here?” I ask.

  Her brows shoot up. “No. Sara arranged for the apartment for me. The couple went to Italy for the summer.”

  “Yeah, that’s the Malones.”

  How am I supposed to resist temptation when she’s right there?

  I remind myself why I resisted her in the first place. Our family connection. It’s probably how she ended up here. My cousin Phillip is the one who let us know about this building. The owner is a friend of his. Phillip knows just about everyone as the UN Ambassador for Clean Water. I bet Sara found out about the open apartment through her husband, who asked his brother.

  This is bad. I can’t be the reason there’s another fallout between the Villroy and Brooklyn Rourkes. It would kill my dad not to be welcome in his kingdom. When you’re raised to be king, the kingdom is everything.

  I stop in front of her door and wait for her to unlock it. “I live right next door.”

  She keeps her focus on the door, but I don’t miss the way her entire body tenses. “Small world.”

  “It’s the family connection. Phillip told us about this building. That’s probably where Sara heard about it.” I follow her in and set the boxes down inside. She sets her box next to them, takes her laptop off her shoulder, and lays it on top of the light wood coffee table.

  I rub my hands together. “Anything else?”

  “Just my suitcase.”

  “I got it.” I head down and grab a large black wheeled suitcase from where she left it in the foyer. I can’t believe she’s living right next door to me. Do I ignore her? But what if she wants to hang out as friends like we did in Villroy? I can’t be rude if she asks, especially after I rejected her kiss. I so wanted to follow through. This is what happens when you do the right thing. It bites you in the ass later. You thought that was a test of willpower? How’s this?

  I push open her unlocked door and set her suitcase inside. This is a one-bedroom apartment, and I happen to know her bedroom shares a wall with mine. Let’s just say I’ve heard the mattress next door creaking with newlywed action. I had to get earplugs.

  Chloe looks around the place, seeming pleased. It’s cozy with a beige upholstered sofa, a couple of curved wooden chairs, and assorted wood tables. There’s a series of large framed black-and-white pictures from the Malones’ wedding in Italy on the wall. Classy.

  “So, what’s new?” I ask.

  She spreads her arms wide. “Not much. Starting my internship at a lab on Monday.”

  “How long is your internship?”

  “Eight weeks. Then I’ll visit Sara on Villroy until it’s time to go back to college.”

  Eight weeks. That’s long enough to really get tangled up in someone. If you were looking for a relationship, that is. Which I’m not. The real problem here is that eight weeks is long enough to be way too tempted to cross the line. Which I’m also not.

  Is she still in touch with her psycho ex? The one who threatened death if I touched her?

  Who cares? It’s not like he’d fly all the way to Brooklyn to kill me. Pretty sure.

  An awkward silence stretches between us while I try to figure out the right thing to say to the woman I’ve worked hard to forget.

  “How’d school go last semester?” I blurt.

  She twirls a lock of soft-looking shoulder-length blond hair and looks toward the door. “Fine.”

  Does she want me to leave?

  “Did you do well on the MCAT?”

  She tilts her head. “You know about the MCAT?”

  “Yeah, a friend of mine took it,” I mutter, lying through my teeth. I don’t know anyone who went to medical school besides my doctor. But I never asked her about the process. Whatever.

  “I’m happy with my score,” she says, gripping her hands together in front of her.

  I stare at her gripped hands, and she shifts, gripping them behind her back instead. She’s wearing an emerald green tank top, jeans, and white Keds. Just like I remember her wearing back on Villroy. She’s big on the tank top-jeans combo, though she added a cardigan there. My gaze catches on the dip between her collarbones, the line of her neck, her delicate-looking jaw.

  I suddenly realize I’m staring too long and not holding up my end of the conversation. “Good. That’s good. Are you hungry? We could…” I gesture toward the door.

  “Not really. I had lunch a couple of hours ago.”

  I nod. Makes sense. It is afternoon. “Need any help unpacking?” Just your neighborly helper here.

  She crosses her arms and uncrosses them. “It’s just my research papers and notebooks. I can do it myself.”

  I rub the back of my neck. Why is this so hard? She’s just a woman I had some friendly good times with. A friend. My only woman friend ever. “So, I’m right next door. Knock if ya need anything.”

  “Okay.” She walks to the door.

  Guess that’s my cue to leave.

  “See ya.” I let myself out.

  Then I just stand in the hallway for a moment, my head spinning. Could that have been more awkward? I need to figure out how to be neighbors with her. I don’t want to spend the summer tuned into every sound next door, thinking about what she’s doing, or who she’s doing it with.

  Shit. Am I going to have to hear her hooking up with a guy?

  I jog downstairs, more agitated with every step. This is not going to work. I have to figure something out fast.

  I wonder if I could move in with Beast. No. That’s the coward’s way. This is my place. And Chloe Travers isn’t going to force me out. No matter how awkward things get.

  Chloe

  I walk to the small galley kitchen in a daze. Brendan Rourke. The guy I hoped not to see face-to-face for a very long time is right next door. I reach for a glass with a shaky hand and pour myself some water from the sink. That was so freaking awkward. He must’ve remembered that unwanted kiss. I’m just so…mortified. He’s probably thinking, Shit, the woman who lusts for me is right next door. Now I’ll have to dodge her advances all summer.

  If he only knew. After careful consideration of the facts, I’ve concluded the reason he’s my go-to fantasy with my vibrator, Blaze,
is because my mind conjured a different ending to that night in Villroy. Purely in self-defense. In my fantasy version, he returns my kiss and pulls me into his room. Many orgasms follow. Thank you, Blaze.

  I exhale sharply. No one ever needs to know that, especially my new neighbor. The fact that he pops into my mind with his sparkling blue eyes, ready smile, and appealing dimple on a regular basis is also easy to understand. He was a bright spot during a vulnerable, lonely time over the holidays. Another theory I have is that when I’m overworked like I was this past semester, my mind goes back to the last time I had fun. He was so fun. Two plausible theories to explain why I can’t seem to forget him. It makes sense when you look at it objectively. Well, there’s no forgetting him now! He’s right there.

  Did Sara know he lived in this building?

  I send her a quick text letting her know I got in okay. Then I ask her about Brendan.

  Sara: Brendan who?

  She didn’t know. It’s the family connection through Phillip just like Brendan said.

  Me: Brendan Rourke lives next door.

  Sara: …

  She’s probably checking in with Adrian about it. It’s night in Villroy, which means they’re both at work at the casino they co-own and run.

  I bring my water to the sofa and sink down heavily.

  Sara: Adrian says it’s most likely the Phillip connection. Phillip’s friend owns the building. It’s cool though, right? You hung out with Brendan in Villroy last Christmas. Instant friend.

  I never told her about my unwanted advance. Too embarrassing.

  Me: Yeah, we hung out before.

  Sara: Great! Now at least I know you won’t be all work, no play this summer. Have fun! Tell him Adrian and I say hi. Gotta go. Love you!

  I text a quick “love you too” back and set my phone on the coffee table. I glance toward the shared wall with Brendan’s place, adrenaline firing through me. Distraction time.

  A few minutes later, I’m knee-deep in papers and notebooks as I unpack my boxes. I was lucky to land an eight-week internship focused on cancer genome dynamics at a cancer center affiliated with NYU in the city. This summer is all about work. I’m going to do my research, spend some time putting together med school applications, and study to get a jump on next semester. With my heavy course load, it helps to get a running start. My vibrator will get a lot of action but hey. At least Blaze doesn’t distract me once we’re done. He’s earned the name Blaze for the smoking hot race to the finish. In fact, I’ll use him tonight to take the edge off.

  Feeling a little better, I organize a study space for myself using a long side table covered in picture frames. I relocate the frames to some of the end tables scattered around the living room. I hang my work clothes in the bedroom closet—a few skirts and blouses I can mix and match—and put the rest of my clothes in the two drawers left empty for me.

  After I finish organizing my stuff, I go out for groceries and head back to my new place. This isn’t too far from where I grew up, so I’m pretty comfortable finding my way around. I put the food away, sit on the sofa, and try to decide what to do first. Should I make dinner? Review the published work of the research director I’ll be working under? Or do I address the problem living next door?

  I need to clear the air with Brendan. I’ll feel him out, see if he remembers that kiss, and, if he does, I’ll assure him there’s no worries from this end. Maybe I’ll claim I was drunk that night. No, I’m pretty sure I told him the buzz had worn off by the end of the night. Why am I so direct and honest all the time? It’s a curse. I’m definitely not hanging with him this summer and risking acting on my unwanted lusty impulses. He’s way too appealing to torture myself like that. I just need to stop worrying about the elephant in the room. Right? Ready, set, go next door!

  I wander to the kitchen, procrastinating the next-door neighbor problem. It’s near dinnertime. I’ll make a box of mac ’n cheese with a salad. I find a pot, fill it with water, and set it on the stovetop. I sigh. Not feeling it. I’m hungry, but not in the mood to cook. I could get takeout. There’s a stipend with my internship and I don’t have any other expenses this summer. Sara covered my rent, saying it was part of my education. She’s taken care of me my whole life, but now that she has a family of her own, I’m determined to pay for med school, even if it means taking out student loans. She has Henry now and needs to invest in his education.

  I pace the apartment, working up my nerve to face the guy next door. He’s just a guy. This doesn’t have to be a big deal.

  I’ll go for a walk.

  Halfway to the door, I hear a sound in the hallway and still, my heart picking up speed. Is it Brendan? I can’t go out now. It’ll look like I’m trying to run into him.

  I slide both hands through my hair and close my eyes. This is nuts. Don’t be a wuss.

  A knock on my door startles me. Is it him? It’s got to be someone who lives in the building. Otherwise, they’d have to be buzzed in through the intercom. Maybe he had the same idea that we should clear the air. The awkward factor was off the charts. He had to have noticed it.

  I go over and peek through the peephole.

  It’s him.

  I pull the door open. “Hi.” That’s all I’ve got.

  Brendan leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms, his snug blue T-shirt hugging his biceps. His forearms are corded and muscular. And he’s in faded jeans. I love the look of jeans on a guy’s ass. Yup, my lust for him stays strong. This is so embarrassing.

  I meet his sky blue eyes gleaming devilishly, a hint of a smile playing about his mouth, revealing his dimple, barely visible through his short beard. Just like I remember.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Hey.”

  This is going well.

  I take a deep breath. “So,” I say at the same time as he says, “I thought…”

  “You go ahead,” we say at the same time.

  I laugh a little. “This is weird, isn’t it? I swear I didn’t know you lived here.” I hold my palms up. “It doesn’t have to be awkward. I’m perfectly capable of keeping to myself. You won’t even know I’m here.”

  He straightens. “You don’t have to hide out or anything.”

  I worry my lower lip, unsure if I should bring up the unwanted kiss and assure him I’ll never do that again. Maybe he forgot?

  An awkward silence settles between us.

  He looks over my shoulder and does a double take. “What is that?”

  I glance back. “It’s my study space.”

  He stares. “What is that ugly thing with the wrinkled face and blue hair sticking straight up?”

  I laugh. “That’s my troll doll. They bring good luck. He goes with me everywhere.”

  A smile tugs at his lips. “Troll doll, huh? What’s its name?”

  “Kablooey.”

  He flashes a smile that lights up his face. “Because his hair looks like it went kablooey.” He widens his eyes and explodes his fingers around his hair.

  My cheeks flush. “Yeah, and I thought it was a cute way of incorporating blue into a name.”

  He stares at me for a moment. “You and Kablooey all set for a summer of study, party girl?”

  I tense. He called me party girl several times that night at the bar in Villroy, which means he remembers the incident I’m desperate to forget. Attempted seduction fail. I have to deal with this in a mature and responsible way. Then we can put it behind us.

  I gesture vaguely behind me. “Yeah, that’s my usual mode plus work at the lab, of course. That last night in Villroy got crazy. I never drink. I wasn’t myself at all.”

  His gaze drops to my collarbone. “I remember.”

  “Yeah. Ha-ha. Wild night! Anyway, back to study mode.”

  He lifts his gaze, his bluest of blue eyes making my breath catch. I so wish I weren’t attracted to him. I hope he can’t tell.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, lifting a hand in farewell.

  I belatedly remember he
started to say something before I blurted all my no worries about the lusty woman next door stuff. “What were you going to say before? I cut you off. When you first got here, you said, ‘I thought,’ and then I interrupted.”

  His jaw works for a moment before he says, “Nothing.”

  “But you came over here for a reason, right?”

  His lips press together as he shakes his head in denial. “See ya,” he mutters, turning and letting himself out.

  I cross my arms. That was weird. And I don’t think it was just me that made it weird. What’s going on in his head?

  7

  Brendan

  I head back to my apartment, turn on the TV, and crash on the sofa. That was weird. I thought I’d clear the air so it wouldn’t be awkward every time we ran into each other. I planned to say I’d be super busy this summer, but let me know if she needs anything. Neighborly, not too friendly. I needed to set expectations so she didn’t think we were going to hang out like we did in Villroy. I’ll never get her out of my head if I spend the next eight weeks with her. It’ll practically be like living with her.

  Anyway, it looks like she’s the one who’ll be super busy between work and studying with Kablooey. My lips curl up. I hadn’t expected her to have a doll of any kind, let alone an ugly-as-sin troll. She probably thinks it’s cute. What else is she into?

  I turn off the TV in disgust over wasting my time thinking about the woman I swore I’d stop thinking about, and march out the door. I text Beast to see if he’s home. Maybe we’ll grab a bite for dinner. I’m secretly hoping he’ll cook. My little brother is practically a chef with all his skill, and I miss all the great dinners he prepared when he lived with me. Okay, he’s not little and he’s only two years younger, but I gotta bust his balls. It’s what we do. Dude can cook the most amazing stuff. I’m talking chili, enchiladas, homemade tortellini in cream sauce, paella, steak with mashed potatoes. I don’t know where he learned to cook like that. He says he just got some recipes online and started to get a feel for it. I bet he took cooking classes. You should see him with a knife—chop, chop, chop—like a master chef.