Tempt Thy Neighbor (Roommate Romps)

by Teagan Hunter

  “Ask what?”

  “I’d like to bring you both on board to run the marketing team.”

  My jaw drops, and Sutton stiffens beside me.

  My dad wants to offer me a job? Both of us a job?

  “You’re both very good at what you do, and I’m so impressed by what you’ve done at the agency, even if they don’t appreciate it or see it. Because you’d be leading the department, the benefits and pay are more than what you were making at Evans Inc., so it’d be a big step up financially. With how fast this town is booming and the market being so fresh and open, they’re wanting to open it here, so you wouldn’t have to move. And you—no. You know what? Let’s discuss all the logistics of it later. I just want you to think on it for now.”

  If this was my father of six months ago, I’d tell him to take a hike.

  But because of how much I’ve seen him change in that span of time…well, I’m strongly considering saying yes.

  I open my mouth, but he holds his hand up.

  “I don’t want you to say anything yet. Take some time to think about it. Both of you.” He gives us a smile and turns to leave. “Oh, and Dean wanted me to come remind you that pictures are in ten minutes. We’re meeting out front on the steps.”

  I nod, because it’s all I can manage.

  I’m stunned. Absolutely speechless.

  I never thought my dad would come to me with this offer…and I never thought I’d be so seriously considering saying yes.

  “Wow,” Sutton finally says beside me.

  I glance up at him. “Yeah. Wow.”

  “That was…unexpected.”

  “Very much so,” I agree.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Honestly? The part of me that hates my job and wants so badly to lead my own team and pay my bills without issues is screaming yes. But there’s a tiny part of my brain that’s worried about my history working with my father.”

  Sutton nods, completely understanding my apprehensiveness.

  “You?” I ask. “You don’t look so excited about it.”

  “I’m just…I’m still so unsure, you know?”

  After a long talk about our futures, Sutton confessed to me that he hasn’t been happy in his career in a long time and would like to take some time to figure out what he wants to do.

  I quickly agreed to it, knowing that need to go find yourself firsthand.

  “I get it,” I say. “I totally do. And if you don’t want to do it, it’s perfectly fine and I’ll support you no matter what you want.”

  “Apparently financially too.”

  I know it bothers him that despite working with his lawyers, he still hasn’t been able to find a loophole to gain access to his trust fund. He thinks they’re getting close, but it could still be several months.

  I keep telling him I don’t mind. It’s not like he’s not contributing at all. He’s been working as a substitute teacher at Dean’s school the last few months, and besides, we both still have our savings. We’re doing fine for now.

  “Sutton, I’ve told you we’re fine. I want you to be happy, not stuck in some job you hate so much you eventually start hating me too because I forced you to do something you didn’t like.”

  His face falls. “I could never hate you.”

  “You did once upon a time.”

  “That was misplaced sexual frustration.”

  “Is that what we’re calling it?”

  “Yep. But seriously, I love you for supporting me.”

  “I know you do.”

  “And I guess if it comes down to it, I can sell my car. I could make a pretty penny off the restoration modifications I had done to it.”

  I gasp. “How dare you even suggest that. I love that car!”

  His grin is wicked as he grabs my waist, tugging me close to him, and there is no mistaking his hard length pressing against me.

  “Oh, trust me, princess, I know you do.”

  I groan at the nickname. “Sutton…”

  “What? You love it when I call you that.”

  “I do not.”

  “Do too.” He nips at my bottom lip. “How long did your father say until photos?”

  “Ten minutes. Likely eight now.”

  “Good. Because I spy a coat room, and I only need five.”

  He whisks me away…and we definitely miss the photos.

  * * *

  Thank you for reading TEMPT THY NEIGHBOR!

  I hope you enjoyed Holland & Sutton’s story.

  * * *

  If you’re a fan of hockey romcoms with a bit of secret/mistaken identity, then check out my upcoming Carolina Comets series!

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  * * *

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  LOATHE THY NEIGHBOR PREVIEW

  River

  * * *

  “I am a fucking hero.”

  I sit back with a satisfied grin, admiring my accomplishments.

  Green M&M’S are superior, and that’s why I’ve spent the last five minutes separating all of them from the rest.

  My high lasts all of two seconds before I realize I’m out of things to do as I wait for my best friend, who is late for our Sunday morning coffee date again.

  Blowing out an annoyed huff, I glance at the clock on the wall of the neighborhood’s favorite diner. It only serves breakfast food and pie, which it’s famous for.

  This is my favorite place in the whole city.

  The Gravy Train, an old train depot turned diner tucked in the middle of Harristown, Colorado. It’s a small place, nothing fancy or extravagant inside, and it’s home to not only the best breakfast around, but also the best pie. And I love pie.

  They offer a few flavors a day, and my favorite—cherry—is available three times a week.

  Sundays are cherry pie days.

  A shuffle comes from the other end of the long stretch of booth that takes up a sizeable amount of the back of the restaurant.

  Lucy, a fellow regular here who also happens to be my apartment building manager, is up against the wall at the other end of the long community table where I like to sit. She’s wearing a funky patterned poncho—a signature look for her—and her nose is stuck inside her crossword puzzle book. I’ve known her long enough to know that whenever her book is out, she’s not coming up for air anytime soon.

  “Seriously, River? Again?” Maya West, my best friend, stares down at me from the end of the table with a disappointed frown she’s perfected over the years.

  What did she expect me to do with my time? Sit here and twiddle my thumbs? I had to keep occupied somehow. She should know me better. I’m not the type to do something like pick up a newspaper or book for entertainment. Keeping my hands busy keeps my mind sane.

  “What?” I pop a green candy into my mouth as she takes a seat. I wash it down with a big gulp of my now cooled coffee, which is loaded with enough sugar to put me in a coma. My pseudo-nephew, Sam, slides into the chair next to her. I stick my tongue out at my favorite little rascal, and he returns the gesture. I turn my attention back to Maya. “These precious babies don’t belong with that”—I snarl my lip at the offending colors—“trash.”

  “They all taste the same,” Maya argues, like she always does.

  “Lies!” A few patrons inside scowl at my loud antics, but Sam laughs, which is what I’m truly aiming for. Now that he’s twelve going on twenty, it’s becoming harder to make him laugh as he transitions into his grumpy teenage years. I miss when all I had to do was cross my eyes at him and he’d giggle for five minutes straight.

  “You’re so strange.” She scoots her chair closer to the table, tossing her long, chocolate hair behind her shoulder. “It’s no wonder you can’t find someone to date you.”

  Maya doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, so her words aren’t intended to sting, but they do.

  Especially after yet another failed date last night.<
br />
  My singlehood has been a bit of a daunting subject between us ever since I officially ended things with my ex.

  We’d been together off and on for three years. Our relationship wasn’t super serious and things had been stalling out for some time, and one day, I realized I was ready for more, something steady—and my ex wasn’t. He was constantly flopping between jobs…and other people’s couches, and I’m past that stage in my life. I knew I needed to cut my losses and move on.

  I jumped back into the dating scene hard at first, going on a date a week at least. It didn’t take long for me to realize what I was wanting—stability.

  I’m not saying I’m ready for a trip down the aisle, but finding something…someone…that promises a future eventually would be nice.

  After a lot of failed dates, I slowed it down. I’ve only been out with a handful of guys over the past year, all of them duds.

  Maya thinks I’m being too picky, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with knowing what you are (and aren’t) willing to compromise on. Is it too much to ask that I find a guy who is funny, kind, has a steady job, and is hot?

  It’s not like I need to find The One, but consistent orgasms that don’t come from my vibrator and someone to snuggle other than my cat Morris does sound nice, not to mention doing something other than working and hanging out with Maya and Sam—though I do love them dearly.

  “I’m not strange,” I tell her. “I’m…particular.”

  “You can say that again.” She raises a brow, darting her eyes toward the pile of green M&M’S in front of me. “Speaking of dating, how’d last night go?”

  I slide my eyes Sam’s way, unsure if I want to spill the details of my latest dating misadventure in front of my godson. I’m sure he’s not paying much attention, but it still feels weird considering I continue to see him as a toddler and not an almost teenager.

  Maya notices my hesitation. “Hey, kiddo, go grab us some pie, would you? Cherry for your aunt River, of course.” She digs around in her purse for far longer than is reasonable and finally thrusts her debit card into his hand. “And some coffee. You know what I like.”

  He grabs the card. “You should get a wallet, Mom. I don’t think it’s safe to leave your card loose in your purse like that.”

  “As opposed to leaving it in my wallet where a thief would know where it is?”

  He rolls his eyes in response, and she grins in triumph.

  “For the record,” I say as Sam shuffles away, “I’m on his side with that.”

  “Says the girl who separates her M&M’S by color.”

  “The green ones are the best!”

  “Remind me why we’re friends again? We have zero in common.”

  “That’s exactly why—it keeps things interesting. Plus, I was the only person there for you during your whole pregnant-at-sixteen scandal.”

  She snorts out a laugh. “Right. That.”

  When I was eight, Maya’s family moved in next door, and we became instant best friends. It didn’t matter that we were total opposites and constantly fought over frivolous stuff like which boy band was better—we were inseparable.

  We’ve been friends for twenty years now and have been through it all: high school drama, teenage pregnancy, marriage, becoming business partners, divorce…you name it. No matter what life throws at us, we’re still thick as ever.

  She’s the sister I never had and always wanted.

  “So, last night?” Maya purses her perfectly full lips, training her startling gray eyes on me.

  “Right, right.” I tap my chin. “Last night was…interesting.”

  “Good or bad?”

  “Good…ish.”

  “You’re doing a bang-up job clearing this up for me,” Maya deadpans.

  “Well, it started when my date—”

  “Cheddar!” She claps her hands together, grinning like a fool. “Say it. Say his douchebag frat boy name that he is way too old to still be going by.”

  It is a ridiculous name. In fact, Cheddar might have been the first guy Maya didn’t try to convince me to give a shot. I went out with him to prove I wasn’t as picky as she claims.

  My mistake.

  “It started with Cheddar spilling his drink across the table.”

  “What was he drinking?”

  “Why is that important?”

  “A drink order says a lot about a person.” Maya waves her hand impatiently. “Let’s have it.”

  “Frozen strawberry daiquiri.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret telling her.

  She’s laughing so hard she’s not even making a sound as I sit there throwing daggers her way. I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back in my chair, letting her get it out.

  “Are you finished yet?” She hasn’t made a sound other than sucking in air for at least thirty seconds.

  Finally, she expels a breath, wiping at her eyes. “Not only does he still go by Cheddar, he drinks that. I can’t believe you didn’t marry him on the spot.”

  “It was truly awkward when I ordered my whiskey neat.”

  “Attagirl.”

  I move on. “Anyway, the drink order and spill were something I could get over. Maybe he was nervous? Who knows? And when he mentioned still living with his mother? Whatever, the economy and all that. But…”

  “Why do I have a feeling this is going to be good?”

  “But then he said—and I fucking quote—that blackberry pie is the best kind of pie.”

  She clutches her chest. “He said what!”

  I nod, puckering my lips. “I had the same reaction. In fact, I texted my mom and made her call me with an emergency to get out of there.”

  Maya rolls her eyes. “You realize I’m making fun of you, right?”

  “What? You know cherry is the best kind of pie!”

  “You can’t keep pushing every Tom, Dick, and Harry away for these asinine reasons. You’ll never find anyone if you keep this up.”

  “First of all, I would never push a dick away.”

  “River…” Her voice is laced with frustration, and I get it.

  I am kind of picky.

  But is it too much to ask for a guy to make me…well, excited?

  “Maybe I am a smidge particular, but nobody gets me going, you know? Nobody makes my heart rate spike or makes me laugh. Not one of them has been the sit-at-home-and-think-about-him kind of guy. Nobody has made me tingly in all the right places. Not a single date has—ugh.”

  In my peripheral, I watch the bane of my existence saunter through the doors of my favorite restaurant—which I’ve been frequenting for eight years now—like he owns the place.

  His denim-clad legs stretch on for what seems like miles, and I don’t even have to look to know he’s wearing a t-shirt for some band that hasn’t played a show in nearly thirty years. His coal black hair is messy like the wind blew it everywhere, and his face hasn’t been shaved in three days.

  He looks sloppy, like he just rolled out of bed and plucked his clothes from the floor. But, somehow, he’s still ridiculously attractive…unfortunately.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Maya peers behind her to the front door of the diner, where my eyes have drifted. “Oh. Him.”

  “Yeah.” I curl my lips back in disgust. “Him.”

  She turns back to me. “I don’t understand your problem with him. He’s super hot.”

  “You don’t live next door to him.”

  Not only does Lucifer himself patronize my favorite place in the whole world, he also lives in the apartment right. Next. Door.

  I see him all the time. At the mailboxes. In the elevator.

  Every morning.

  It’s exhausting because he’s exhausting.

  Like the traitor she is, Maya lifts her hand and waves. He shoots her a grin I’m sure he thinks is panty-melting and waves back as he heads to the front counter to place his order.

  I swat it down. “Stop that!”

  “You stop it!” She
yanks her hand back. “There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s—”

  “Super hot—yeah, I heard you the first time. He’s also super annoying.”

  “How so?”

  “For starters, he—”

  “Ah, Sam.” My mortal enemy approaches the line. “Nice to see you, bro.”

  “That!” I practically rise up out of my chair, pointing an accusing finger at him. He peeks over at the commotion, thick brows squished together at my disruption. “That right there! He says stuff like that because—”

  “Hey, Dean.” Sam high-fives his old teacher. “How’s your weekend going?”

  “Because of that. They’re Sam and Dean. Like the Winchesters.” I roll my eyes. “Spare me,” I finish as I settle back down on my ass, watching the two of them chat it up like old friends.

  Which I guess they are. Kind of.

  Last year when Maya and her ex were going through their divorce, Dean was there for Sam in ways only a father figure can be. With him being Sam’s teacher and seeing him at school, the two grew close, and though it’s incredibly silly, it makes me a little jealous.

  And horny.

  Which in turn makes me really damn angry.

  I hate him. He’s an ass. A total jerk. And so not my type. I don’t like him. The attraction is the lack of a man warming my bed talking and nothing more.

  Besides, what I’m looking for is not Dean. He might have a stable job and appear steady on his feet, but that doesn’t make up for how much he annoys me.

  “You know, I’m starting to think maybe you only say you hate him because you’re secretly crushing on him.”

  I bark out a sardonic laugh. “Please. That is so not it.”

  “You’re saying you don’t find him attractive at all?”

  “No.”

  “No you don’t find him attractive, or no that’s not what you’re saying?”

  I shift in my chair. “Of course I find him attractive.”

  “Huh. Interesting.”

  I tilt my head, pinching my brows together. “What is?”

  “Dean turns you on.”

  “W-What?!” I sputter, sitting up straight. “He does not! Why would you say that? I never said that.”