Devastate Me: A Next Door Neighbor Romance

by Emma Castle

  Colt looked at the cans of tuna still rolling around. A young man wearing a grocery store apron was trying to collect the cans still cruising down the aisles.

  “They’ll never let me come back here,” she moaned. There had to be at least a hundred cans of tuna to pick up. “Sorry! So sorry!” she called out to the clerk, whose face was flushed as he tried to gather up the cans.

  “It will be fine. He’s probably glad your cart didn’t hit the honey. He’d be mopping that up for hours.”

  “Oh God, don’t remind me. If you hadn’t caught the cart . . . Thank you for that, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome.” After they helped the clerk pick up the cans, he nodded at her purse. “Give me your list. I’ll get what you need, and you can wait up front for me. Rest your ankle.”

  Was he serious? It was hot that he wanted to do something like that for her, but also a little insulting that he just ordered her what to do. She had the strange urge to defy him, then maybe kiss him, hard. Ophelia wasn’t used to battling such a dichotomy of emotions when it came to men.

  “I didn’t bring a list. I was so tired from unpacking that I just drove straight over.”

  “Ah,” he murmured in understanding.

  “And thank you, but I really am okay. I can shop for myself.”

  The dubious look he gave her would have pissed her off if she hadn’t been so damn tired.

  “Wait here.” His tone brooked no argument. He walked back to the meat counter and spoke to the butcher, who handed him another package of meat. Then he came back to her.

  “We’ll get you the essentials.” Colt set his basket inside her cart and then took control of the cart. He was definitely former military, someone who just took charge.

  “Seriously, you don’t need to—” But he was already pushing her cart down the next aisle.

  “You have no food, and you’re tired. I was planning to cook steak tonight, and I don’t mind tossing an extra one on the grill for you.” He stopped next to the baking supplies, grabbing several items for her. “You aren’t one of those girls who doesn’t eat meat, are you?”

  “No, steak is fine, but—”

  “Then come to my place tonight at seven.”

  “Oh, what the hell. Thank you.” She sighed and kept pace with him as he continued to fill her cart. “Fabric softener?” She was surprised that he put that in the basket. Her last boyfriend hadn’t even known how to turn on the washing machine.

  “What? Surprised that I’m a civilized man?”

  She swore she detected a hint of humor in his tone and couldn’t resist teasing him back. “No, I’m sure you’re quite civilized. Anyone who has azaleas growing like you do has to be.”

  Despite his beard concealing his expressions, she caught a small smile. He didn’t speak much as they filled up the rest of her cart. Normally, Ophelia would have been tempted to try to coax more answers out of him, but she was too tired.

  “I’m Ophelia Wescott, by the way. I wasn’t sure if you knew or not. Miranda said the homeowners’ association emailed a newsletter this morning, but I wasn’t sure who read it.”

  He snorted. “I never read that crap, unless I need to fall asleep.”

  “You don’t? I never would’ve guessed you’re the type to buck convention, Mr. Broody McBroodster.” She didn’t mean to reply so sarcastically, but she tended to get cranky when she was tired.

  It didn’t seem to faze him. “Mr. Broody McBroodster?” He chuckled, the sound almost warm and welcoming. But he glanced at her as they reached the self-checkout.

  “You scan, I’ll bag.”

  “Sir, yes sir.” She gave a mock salute, expecting him to get prickly, yet he smiled again, and damn if that didn’t send all sorts of wonderful butterflies tumbling around her stomach.

  “So, Ophelia . . .” He spoke her name as they started scanning and bagging.

  “Yeah, I know, it’s a mouthful. That’s what happens when your mother’s an English professor.”

  But to her surprise, he closed his eyes and began to recite something from memory:

  Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,

  Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,

  Whiles, like a puffed and reckless libertine,

  Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,

  And recks not his own rede.

  Ophelia stared at him. The man had just quoted from Hamlet, a passage spoken by the character Ophelia. She wasn’t a huge Shakespeare fan, but her mother was, and she’d spent countless nights listening to her mother read it aloud when she was a child.

  “You’ve read Hamlet?” As if she needed another reason to like him, the man could quote literature.

  “You seem surprised.”

  “Not surprised in a bad way. I thought only my mother could quote Shakespeare off the cuff like that. Color me impressed.”

  “I’ll admit I didn’t actually enjoy Shakespeare as much as other things I’ve read. But I wanted to challenge myself. I’ve even read Chaucer and learned about the Great Vowel Shift around the time Middle English was in use. Not easy shit to learn.”

  “Chaucer? Wow, you really do like a challenge!” Ophelia chuckled.

  His hazel eyes met hers. For a second, she was lost in his gaze, her heart fluttering, until he broke the spell by looking away once the last bag was filled. They quickly paid for their groceries, and he walked her to her car.

  “Remember, seven tonight. Noah and I will be waiting.” And with a devastating, panty-melting smile, he walked away across the parking lot.

  Ophelia stared after him, wondering what she’d gotten herself into, and she was more than a little worried about who Noah was.

  2

  Ophelia crept across her lawn in the growing dusk, wearing a brightly colored blouse, jean shorts, and sandals. She hoped that none of her new neighbors would see her heading toward Colt’s house. The last thing she needed was to be the center of neighborhood gossip. With a furtive glance around, she knocked on the navy-blue front door. The door opened, and Colt stood there, towering over her. She stepped back, far too aware of how close they were.

  His strong body emanated heat, and she could smell a blend of fabric softener and lemon. Had he been doing laundry and cleaning . . . just for her? She wanted to think so. There was something sexy about a man who rushed to clean up his place for a woman coming over. It made her think of tumbling onto clean sheets with him and having insanely hot sex on them.

  God, when had she become turned on by things like that?

  “Come on in. I just fired up the grill.” He stepped back, and Ophelia entered his home, her eyes darting around the room to note the cozy yet masculine furniture choices. It wasn’t spartan by any means, but the color tones of the walls and furniture were in natural and neutral tones of dark browns, dove grays, and warm leather.

  “So, am I the first to arrive?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your friend, Noah, wasn’t it? Is he here yet?”

  For a second, Colt simply stared at her, inscrutable as ever, and then he laughed. The rich, deep sound made her think of him in bed. If she was honest, everything he did was making her think of him in bed.

  “Noah!” He whistled sharply, and Ophelia tensed at the sound of nails scraping on wood floors. An impressive but intimidating German shepherd rushed into the room. Ophelia immediately shrank back, and that didn’t escape Colt’s notice.

  “Afraid of dogs?” he asked. He waved a hand, and Noah sat where he was and then lay down.

  “No, not exactly. I got bit by a German shepherd when I was twelve. The neighbor boys sent it after me as a joke. I still have a scar.” She pointed to her chin.

  Colt reached up and caught hold of her chin, leaning in to examine it. She knew he saw the tiny faint white scar at the bottom of her chin.

  “Feeling brave?” he asked, and for some reason that made her heart race.

  “Maybe?” She felt unsure, despite the fact that
she had wanted to sound confident. Colt took her by the hand and led her to the large dog, who remained in his lying down position.

  “Noah, this is Ophelia.” He looked to her as he introduced them. “Noah is a therapy dog. He was a bomb sniffer in Iraq for three years. You won’t meet a gentler dog, I promise.” Colt knelt on one knee and motioned for her to do the same. Ophelia did, but she reflexively gripped Colt’s arm. His skin was warm and comforting.

  “You can pet him. He won’t move from this position until I tell him to.”

  Trusting Colt, she reached out and patted the German shepherd. His fur was smooth and soft. The dog licked his lips, which made her flinch.

  “That means he likes it, not that he sees you as a T-bone steak,” Colt explained. “When dogs are feeling safe and content, they lick their lips like that.” Sure enough, Noah’s eyes half closed as though he was experiencing pleasure.

  “How do you know so much about dogs?” she asked.

  Colt smiled a little. “Always had them growing up. When I came home from my last tour, I signed up to adopt a retired military working dog. Noah has been through hell, and he’s a damn good dog.”

  Ophelia assumed that Colt must have been through hell during his service as well. “Miranda mentioned you were a Navy SEAL?”

  “Yeah.” It was all he said, but it was enough. She knew what hardships servicemen and women faced.

  She was still holding his arm when she spoke softly to him. “My dad was in the navy. He was a SeaBee, an engineer. I thank you for your service.”

  Her words caught him by surprise. She could see it in his eyes as he looked down at her. He didn’t say anything for a long moment.

  “I need to get the steaks on the grill.” With a wave of his hand, Noah followed him out into the backyard. Ophelia joined him, and he nodded toward an outdoor table and chairs.

  “Have a seat.” He turned his back to her, lifted the grill lid and started laying the steaks across its surface. Noah settled down on the grass, and Ophelia sighed and relaxed a bit around him. He really was a beautiful dog.

  The evening sunlight sank beneath the trees, and some string lights hanging on the back porch suddenly came on, making her feel warm and cozy as the chilly air crept in around them. Ophelia was content to lean back in her chair and watch Colt cook. He mastered the grill, and in no time he presented her with a steak and a tin-foil-wrapped baked potato on a plate.

  “You want a beer or something?” he asked.

  “Sure, I’ll take a beer.”

  He stepped into the house and returned with a dog bowl in one hand and two beers in the other. He handed her one bottle of beer and set his down before he cut up a third steak and mixed it into Noah’s bowl of dried food.

  Ophelia bit her lip to hide a smile. “You feed him steak?” It was clear he loved his dog.

  “Only on Saturdays. Chicken and beef have all the nutrients dogs need that they don’t get in dog food. It keeps them a little healthier and happier.” Colt set the bowl down on the ground, and Noah dug in enthusiastically.

  Ophelia had a thousand questions she wanted to ask, but she had never met anyone like Colt before, someone whose every look and action screamed that he was closed for business.

  “So, Colt, what do you do now? Aside from being a good gardener.” She kept her tone teasing, hoping to coax him to open up a bit.

  “Private security. Consulting. Mostly online these days.”

  She expected him to ask her the same question, but he didn’t. He took a long sip of his beer instead, his hazel eyes too hawklike as they studied her while she tried her dinner. It was perfectly cooked and tasted amazing.

  “You want to tell me why you moved here?” he asked.

  She stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “This is an out-of-the-way place. Young kids like you don’t come here, not without a reason.”

  “I’m not young,” she protested. “How old are you?”

  “Old enough, sweetheart. I’ve lived a decade longer than you. I retired from the navy two years ago at age thirty-two. Feels like a lifetime.”

  So he was thirty-four? That wasn’t old.

  “How do you know my age?” she asked. “Or was that a guess?”

  “No guess. I like to know who I live next to. I do a background check on everyone who moves to this neighborhood.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound suspicious or paranoid at all.”

  “It’s not what you think. I work in security, remember? I’m sort of the neighborhood watch in these parts. We don’t get a lot of crime, but there have been some nasty break-ins, and the police haven’t caught whoever’s been doing it. A couple of the homeowners were home, and one ended up in the hospital. So I try to keep tabs on those who are most vulnerable, to help make sure they stay safe.”

  “Oh, that makes sense.”

  “So, why Havensport?” he asked.

  “I just wanted to get away,” she replied. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” She ate another piece of steak.

  “Well . . . Whatever reason you ran away, don’t let life force you to hide.”

  “I’m not running,” she protested.

  Colt acted like he didn’t hear her. “And for God’s sake, don’t make friends with the housewives in the neighborhood. Miranda and her husband are nice, but the rest . . .” He scowled as he trailed off.

  “I heard you have quite the fan club.”

  “Fan club.” He grimaced. “They need a goddamn hobby or better yet, jobs.”

  Ophelia smirked. “I think you’re it.”

  “I wish they would just leave me the hell alone.”

  “Sorry. You’re too handsome for that, so you might as well get used to it. Or maybe work it to your advantage.”

  Colt’s brow furrowed. He obviously was not following her.

  “You know, offer gardening services? Strip club rules, look but don’t touch? You could make a mint.”

  She couldn’t resist teasing him. She wanted to see him smile.

  “Or maybe I’ll mow my damn yard naked and charge admission for the show.” He grinned darkly, as though the idea brought him a little too much joy.

  Ophelia shook her head. “The logistics wouldn’t work. Too many people could watch from their windows for free. Maybe if you did it as a fundraiser. If they raise X amount of money, you do the yard work naked.”

  “I’m sure the HOA would have something to say about that.”

  “Yeah, but who do you think is on the HOA?” she said, chuckling. “But yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, you might cause a car wreck, and I’m sure that would end up in the HOA newsletter.”

  He almost smiled again. “You have a point.”

  After a moment, he collected the plates and headed inside. Ophelia stayed on the back patio, admiring the beds of flowers and the hardy maple trees that sheltered his decent-sized yard.

  A squirrel scampered down one of the trees. In a burst of speed, Noah chased it right back up the trunk. Ophelia giggled and tucked her feet up in the large chair, feeling content for the first time in a long while. Right now there was nowhere she’d rather be. Her bruised heart felt healed in some small way, for the first time since her breakup. And she had a bearded Navy SEAL who didn’t like people to thank for it. What a strange thing life was.

  Colt put the dishes into the dishwasher and watched Ophelia laugh as Noah chased some squirrels. His chest tightened unexpectedly. How many nights had he and Talia spent like this? A few, most of them nice, but he’d been too young, too foolish to sense her unhappiness. A quiet life in a small town had never been her plan. She had wanted him to stay in the service and to work his way up the ranks so she could be a high-powered military wife and travel the world with him. There was nothing wrong with that, but she had never really understood what it meant to be in the service, nor what it meant to be married to someone who was.

  A spouse of a service member gave up a lot, starting with a normal life. He’d met many men and
women who took their roles seriously, and their dedication to helping the others on military bases mattered a hell of a lot. But Talia had only wanted the fun and none of the sacrifices. Colt had not been the man destined to make her happy.

  When he had talked to Ophelia about running away to a place like this, he’d wanted to warn her not to be like him. Yet as he watched her now, a peaceful smile on her face, he realized maybe he was wrong. Maybe she needed the sleepy town as much as he did.

  Ophelia finally rose from her chair and came inside. “Can I help you put anything away?” She looked bone-tired, as she had in the grocery store.

  “No, it’s all taken care of. You should get home and sleep.”

  “Oh . . . okay.” He didn’t miss the note of disappointment in her voice and had to fight the urge to keep his distance. He followed her to the front door, where she turned to face him.

  “Thank you for tonight. I hope you’ll think of me as a friend. I could sure use one in a new town.”

  She looked so damn sweet, so vulnerable in that moment that all of Colt’s instincts just flew out the window. She turned, a hand resting on his doorknob, but he caught her other arm, gently spinning her around and pulling her toward him. She was so small and curvy. She fit right against him as he cupped the back of her head. His hand buried itself in her dark hair, which tumbled in loose waves down her shoulders. It felt like silk, and he groaned inside as it slid against his skin, tickling him.

  She stared up at him with those doe-brown eyes of hers, framed by thick sooty lashes, her pale-pink lips parted. He knew he was a goner.

  He lowered his head to hers, his blood pounding in his ears. Her lashes fluttered closed, and she melted in his arms in the most wonderful way. They were drawn together like a pair of stars circling each other as gravity pulled them in for a cosmic explosion.

  Colt’s mouth covered hers in a gentle, searching kiss that Ophelia answered. Her hands clutched his shoulders and then slid up around his neck. A new urgency drove him as she opened her lips to his and he slipped his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. She tasted sweet, and she kissed so perfectly, a tender eagerness in her that made him feel like a teenager in the back of his dad’s old Buick, trying to get to first base.