I Love You, My Neighbour: Chapter 12
You're a lifesaver
Author’s Note:
Hi everyone, I wanted to let you know that I am currently in the process of editing and updating 'I Love You, My Neighbour.' Due to the frequent updates, I will not be sending individual emails for each update. However, I am sending this one to inform you about it. If it has been a while since you last read this book and you're interested in reading it again, I have provided the links to the other chapters below. I’d forgotten just how much I love this book!
Additionally, you will find Chapter 12 further below.
Chapters
Chapter 12
Logan
Saturday morning, I wake up feeling something I haven't felt in a very long time—hungover.
God, I hate Kyle.
Okay, I don't hate him; he is my mate. But if he was here right now, I'd be very tempted to smack him upside the head for dragging me out last night.
I hadn't wanted to go. I fought him every step of the way, only capitulating in the end because he promised never to bring up going out again this year if I agreed to one night out.
Now I'm calling myself all kinds of names for giving in.
I expected to hate the whole night, to loathe the nightclub and everyone in it. Sure, I'm in my late twenties, but I feel a lot older than everyone else around me most of the time. Losing Izzy aged me. I feel it in my bones—the toll grief has taken on me.
But last night...
Last night wasn't half as bad as I thought it would be. And yet at the same time, it was ten times worse. Worse because I noticed all the women dancing around me. I admired their short skirts and shorts and their little skin-tight tops. I noticed boobs and legs and hair and eyes.
After years of being completely uninterested in anything other than satisfying my sexual urges with mindless hand relief, I feel as though I've suddenly woken up from a coma. I started thinking about what it would be like to be with a woman again. I hate it.
My mates have implied carefully on several occasions that Izzy would want me to be happy and move on, but the guilt I felt from looking nearly knocked me on my arse. Which is why I'd gotten buzzed and then quickly pounded the drinks down until I was shit-faced.
Yup, I'm definitely going to shoot Kyle.
Rolling over, I swear when I see what the time is. I can't remember the last time I slept past seven, but it's well past eight now.
I bolt out of bed, only to regret it immediately. The sudden movement sends a wave of nausea through me. Ugh, I don't know how I'm going to get through a day of hammering and drilling today.
Falling back into bed is tempting. The only thing stopping me is the thought of Kristy standing on my front doorstep, waiting for me. Adam, Jamie, and Kyle, I can message, but I don't have my neighbour's number to give her the same courtesy.
Of course, she only lives next door, meaning she can head straight home when she realizes I'm not there. Still, I feel bad that my jackass of a friend invited her to come over and help on her one day off work. Worse still, he'd asked her to bring food. If she's baked food for us and is waiting for me, I don't want to stand her up.
Besides, I can't really afford to give up a full day of work on the house.
On the way to the bathroom, I give my stove a wistful look. If I had anything worth frying in the fridge, I'd be tempted to whip it out and cook. But I don't. Since I'm barely here, I don't stock much in the way of food. And even if I did have food in my fridge, I wouldn't be able to enjoy it knowing Kristy might be waiting for me.
Forcing myself into the shower, I try to wake myself up with hot then cold water. As soon as I'm out of the shower, I send the guys a quick text, letting them know I'll be at the house in twenty minutes. Then I pack my esky, grab my car keys and phone, and head out to my Ute.
I drive to Carrington Bay doing the speed limit with the window down, feeling queasy to the pit of my stomach. I need food and coffee, not necessarily in that order.
As soon as I pull into the driveway, I shut the engine off and step out of my car, looking around for Kristy or the guys. When I don't see anyone, I let myself into my house. It isn't until I walk into the kitchen with my esky that I realize I don't have anything that I need to make coffee.
I don't have a kettle or even a saucepan to heat water. Nor do I have mugs or teaspoons. I forgot to grab food on the way here, and I'm ravenous. Frustrated with my lack of forethought, I kick one of the lower cupboard doors, hurting my foot and swearing loudly. All the alcohol I consumed last night must have killed off my brain cells.
Muttering insults at myself, I let myself back out of the house and message Kyle.
Me: Can you grab breakfast for five? I need food, and even if the guys have already eaten, they'll appreciate the extra feed.
The reply that comes back within seconds makes me chortle.
Kyle: Screw you. You're the boss. You buy it.
Me: It's your fault I'm in the condition I'm in. Bring breakfast or suffer.
Kyle: Fuck off.
I grin, knowing that's as close to a yes as I'm going to get. Likely, Kyle is in a similar condition to me, but I lack sympathy for him considering that going out clubbing was his bright idea.
Needing coffee more than I need my next breath, I walk over to Kristy's and ring the doorbell.
"Arooo! Roof! Roof!"
"Hey, Cricket," I say through the door.
Moments later, footsteps sound and then Kristy swings open the door.
"Logan. Hi."
She looks a little surprised to see me standing on her doorstep, but I'm the one left speechless as I take in my neighbour. Her hair is down today, the unruly dark curls falling down her back and over her shoulders. Under all that hair, I shouldn't be able to see how full her breasts are in the stretchy purple and blue sports top she's wearing, but I can see all too well. Her breasts would fill my hands, and then some.
Fuck, what is wrong with me? Looking at my neighbour's breasts?
One night out on the town—a night I was dragged on—and suddenly I can't stop looking at women and actually seeing them.
Desiring them.
I need to find a way to turn it off quick smart. Last night had been bad enough. But this? Getting turned on by the sight of my neighbour? That's much worse. I came over here for a coffee, not a semi-hard on.
I really am going to kill Kyle.
"Hi," I force out, my throat feeling like gravel.
"Are you okay?" She frowns. "You look..."
"Yep, that's exactly how I feel. I don't suppose I can trouble you for a coffee?" I ask, ignoring my wayward libido.
"Of course," she waves me in, then stands back.
Before I've taken a step through the door, Cricket jumps up on me.
"Cricket!" Kristy chides before shooting me an apologetic glance. "Sorry."
I turn my back to him and ignore him until his paws are back on the ground. Then I say, "Hey, boy."
A combination of cinnamon, vanilla, and chocolate scents accost me, causing my stomach to rumble. If there is such a thing as heaven, I reckon it must smell like Kristy's house.
"The kitchen is this way," she says, motioning for me to follow her.
She is wearing yoga pants, I realize as she turns around. Gravity seems to be against me as I try and fail to lift my gaze from the curve of her arse. Miserably, I follow behind her, heat throbbing uncomfortably low in my belly. Now, instead of feeling seedy, I feel horny. Absurdly, I'd pick seedy over horny.
I scrub a hand over my face, trying and failing to scrub away the thoughts of my neighbour's breasts and arse as we walk down the hallway.
"Not much of a kitchen for a baker," I observe, forcing myself to look around the room when we stop.
"Tell me about it," she moans. "Still, the oven compensates for the lack of space."
The appliances look relatively new, and the kitchen appears modern enough, considering the house has to be at least thirty years old. Light pours into the space, courtesy of the skylight and windows overlooking the garden. The whole space feels quite homely with the canisters and other knickknacks she has on display.
Muffins cool on a wire rack on the dining room table next to the kitchen.
"Please tell me I can have one," I say, moving in the direction of the best-looking chocolate-chip muffins I've ever seen.
"I'll get you a plate." I can hear the smile in her voice. "I would have been over earlier today, but I had to drop a batch off at the café. And then I wanted to bake another batch before I brought them over."
"I wouldn't have been there anyway. I slept in today. First time in... I can't remember how long."
Which reminds me, I should probably broach the subject of us swapping numbers at some stage. So that if this kind of situation ever crops up again, I'm prepared.
Kristy hands me a plate, and I don't waste any time picking out the biggest muffin I can see. Yesterday, I'd been horrified when Kyle asked my neighbour to bake for us on her day off, but today I want to thank him.
I bring that sweet muffin to my lips and sink my teeth into it, groaning as the chocolate chips melt in my mouth. As soon as I've finished my mouthful, I say, "Leave the café and mark these as a hangover cure. You'll be rich and famous much quicker than I will be with that dognip idea of yours."
She laughs. "I take it Kyle succeeded in dragging you out last night."
When she sees my look of surprise, she adds, "He mentioned there was a new club opening in Carrington Bay."
"Yeah, Shark Bait. Horrible name, but the place was okay."
"He wasn't sure you'd go willingly."
"Kyle promised he wouldn't harass me to go out with him for another year if I went this time."
"So you agreed for the sake of a little peace?" she asks with a smile. "Do you want brewed coffee or instant?"
"Whatever. I'll take anything, to be honest."
She nods, still smiling as she goes back to the kitchen to put the kettle on.
"So, you had a good time, I take it?" she calls out. "Judging by the hangover you're experiencing right now."
I sit down at the table – a bad move since the muffins are now right next to me, teasing my nose with their sinfully wicked smell.
"I can't say I had a good time, no."
She finishes making coffee for the two of us and then brings the mugs over to the table, stopping to put coasters down first before placing the hot drinks on top of them.
I pick mine up and slurp from it straight away. The liquid scalds my tongue, but the shot of caffeine through my veins is exactly what I've been craving since I woke up. "You're a lifesaver, you know that?"
"I'm happy to help." She points to the temptations beside me. "Have another one."
I don't need to be told twice. Picking up another muffin, I close my eyes, inhale the scent, then devour it. Probably, I should be ashamed of stuffing my face, but my taste buds are too busy enjoying themselves for me to care.
She picks up her coffee, sipping gingerly as she watches me. "So, you didn't have a good time?"
"Let's just say it's been a long time since I've been out. For obvious reasons. Being in that kind of environment... I guess you could say I didn't exactly hate it as much as I expected to."
Her eyes widen briefly, but a small smile quickly follows. "Well, that's good. Kyle's mission was a success. I'm sure he just wanted to see you let loose and have a good time."
"I didn't want to have a good time," I admit.
"Logan..." she trails off. "I can't imagine what you went through, experiencing the death of your fiancée, but having a good time isn't something you should feel..."
"Guilty for?" I ask, seeing her struggling with words.
"Yes."
"I'm not so sure about that." I sigh.
Studying my neighbour carefully, I wonder how much I should say. I don't really want to spill my guts, but Kristy's expression is interested and open, and inviting. And her muffins, along with her coffee, are like a magical cure for my bad mood.
"I... it's like I've just woken up from a coma," I say slowly. "All the thoughts I had and the things I saw at the club... I've been shut off from everything except my grief since the accident, but last night I was aware of things... of people... of women in a way I haven't been since I started dating Izzy, and I hated it. I don't know why I'm telling you this. It probably sounds ridiculous. I'm probably not making sense."
"Actually, it doesn't sound ridiculous at all. I totally get it."
"You do?"
Realizing what she's just said, she shakes her head quickly, not meeting my gaze. "I don't mean to say I get what you're going through. I've never grieved the death of someone I was going to marry. I just meant that the feeling of waking up from a coma and seeing things, feeling things, and being aware of... things you wish you weren't aware of? It's happened to me recently."
"Explain," I order.
Her mouth pulls down at the corner. "It's not the same, just similar."
"Why?" I ask, sitting forward. "How?"
She shrugs, looking down at the mug of coffee gripped between her two palms. "I had a couple of really bad experiences a while back. Both of them left such a bitter taste in my mouth that I've been completely uninterested in... well, a lot of things. But then..."
"Then?"
"It started changing. I started becoming... aware of things, just like you said. And I wasn't happy about it. I'm still not. I don't like the feeling at all."
Maybe Kristy does get what I'm saying, after all. Curiosity about the experiences that have made her feel bitter fills me, but from the way she won't meet my eyes, I sense she's already shared more than she wants to with me.
Well, I know how she feels. She knows a bit more about me than I'm comfortable with. What she's shared today puts us on a more even keel.
I let sincerity fill my voice as I say, "I appreciate you telling me that."
She lifts her gaze to meet mine, and I feel yet another thing I haven't felt in years—a sense of connection to another person. Not physical need, just the feeling of letting a wall down and allowing someone to see... more.
The desire to put the wall back up and cut off the connection is strong. I haven't connected emotionally with another woman since Izzy. But this moment wasn't a betrayal of Izzy. How can it be when she is the topic of conversation? Despite the lust that hit me when I saw Kristy this morning, I have no desire to get involved with my neighbour. I still love Izzy.
I will always love Izzy.
I throw back the rest of my coffee and push my chair back. "Again, you're a lifesaver. Thanks for that."
"No worries."
"I should get back to the house," I say. "The guys will be there any tick of the clock. If they haven't shown up already."
"Should I come over now, too?" she asks.
My gaze sweeps over her outfit once again. Can I trust the guys to concentrate on doing up my house if she comes over dressed like she is now? Her curves are insane, and they've made it pretty damn clear they think she is hot. Asking her to change is out of the question, though.
"Did I interrupt you in the middle of exercising or something? Because you could come over later if you're busy this morning."
"No, I finished by the time you knocked. I'm free for the rest of the day."
"Right. Yeah, come over then. You've probably had breakfast, but I asked Kyle to bring some food for everyone."
"You're still hungry after those muffins?" she asks.
"Christ. You'd better not mention to Kyle I've already had two."
She looks like she is trying to hold back her smile as she nods. "I won't."
The dog, who has been lazing in a spot on the wooden floor sunning himself, gets up when I stand.
"Feel free to bring Cricket if you want," I say. "Someone will be out in the backyard most of the day, so he'll have company."
Surprise flickers in her expression. "Really? You don't mind?"
"Not at all."
"Great. I'll be over soon, then. I'll just get changed."
More than a little relieved she isn't coming over dressed in clothes that show off every curve she has, I nod. "I'll meet you over there."
"I'll see you to the door."
"No need. I can remember the way out."
Due to my attempts not to stare at my neighbour's arse as I made my way down the hallway earlier, I missed things. Without the distraction of Kristy in front of me, I observe more, like the hall table with ornaments from different countries and the photo hanging near the entranceway.
Sure that Kristy wouldn't mind me looking at her photo—she'd looked at the one I have in the kitchen of Izzy and Buster, after all—I stop to study it. In it, Kristy is standing arm-in-arm with a girl around the same age. They might have been eighteen or so. Both of them wore high school uniforms. Perhaps it is their Graduation Day.
The other girl has to be Jess – the neighbour I haven't met yet. Kristy mentioned she's a model, but she didn't mention she lives with Jessica freaking Skyler, one of the most famous models in the country. I'm sure it's her. The girl standing next to Kristy has long blonde hair, angular cheekbones, and light green eyes that seduce the camera. She exudes the kind of cool, sophisticated beauty that has made her famous on the catwalk.
"I thought you were heading out."
Turning around, I see Kristy leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, her mouth tipped down in a frown as she watches me.
She pushes off the doorframe. "I didn't hear the door close; thought you might have gotten lost on the way out."
"Just checking out your photo. I know you said your friend was a model, but I didn't realize she's—"
"Jessica Skyler."
Kristy's expression is serious and unhappy as she walks towards me. Have I overstepped? It's just a photo, and it wasn't hidden away. It's hanging on the wall in plain sight.
"I don't make a habit of dropping her name." She looks at the photo. "Easy to see why she's been so successful as a model, isn't it?"
"She's beautiful," I answer honestly.
"She is," Kristy says. "In a month and a bit, you'll get to meet her. You'll like her; she's really nice."
My neighbour forces a smile when I study her, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes.
"I didn't think you'd mind me looking at the photo," I say, fishing to see if that's the reason she suddenly seems unhappy with me.
"Don't be silly. There's no reason I wouldn't want you to look at it."
Her tone is sharp, and when I frown, she makes more of an effort to smile. "I'll see you soon?"
I nod. "Yeah."
Walking out the front door, I scratch my head. Did I just imagine her strange response? Jess is Kristy's best friend and housemate. Yet I'm sure that my neighbour wasn't the least bit happy talking about Jess with me. I'd bet my life on it. She said she doesn't like to name drop, so maybe that's it. Or maybe she's worried I'd be interested in the super attractive model and become a pain in the arse like that guy Simon who was banging on her door the other night.
She can rest easy. I'm not interested in pursuing any woman. Not even one of Australia's most successful supermodels.