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“It’s why you love me.”
“Love is a strong word,” I tell him at the same moment he opens the gate for me. “Loathe would be more accurate.”
“Tonight, say seven? And bring a bikini.”
I’m confused. That is until his stupid ‘winner gets whatever they want’ comes racing back to me.
“Okay, stop!” I grab his arm, forcing him to slow down. “Where are we going?”
“A swimsuit, wetsuit, you’re going to get very wet,” he teases, licking his lips.
God, I already am. That run is like a big foreplay session. Ignoring the way his eyes feast on me, I try to play it cool. It is important he has no clue how he’s affecting me in any way whatsoever.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, tell Prince Charming you’re going to be out late.”
I can sense his jealousy masked behind the pretentious smile plastered on his face. I want to ask him if he is, in fact, jealous. Tease him because he’s an easy target when it comes to his ego. But perhaps I’m reading more into this than I should be. This isn’t a competition. Oliver is an acquaintance. Nicholas is my fiancé in the waiting.
As he turns away, walking back toward Lana and Sebastian’s house, I call his name, prompting him to turn around.
“What Prince Charming doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” I shout, unable to disguise the smile as I bite my bottom lip.
I would have walked away had it not been for the smirk—that little rise in the corner of his mouth that he was oblivious to, combined with the delicious dance in his eyes.
“Wait…” He runs back to me. “Where is your phone?”
I tell him to wait, open the door, and grab it off the nightstand.
Once back outside, he grabs my phone out of my hand without warning.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Shh,” he complains, distracted while typing something into my phone.
I really should put a password on my phone. In my life, I don’t think anyone has ever touched it except me.
Oliver passes it back, shooting me a wink before turning his back and walking away. “In case you ever need me,” he yells from the end of the fence.
My eyes wander to the screen to see his name—Bad Boy Neighbor.
Unable to hide my grin, I step back inside and head straight for the shower. Each time the soap glides against my skin, I ache in delight. No one has ever made me feel this way, and despite the back-and-forth banter, Oliver has never actually made a move. Everything I have conjured up has been in my head, and the guilt has begun to eat away at me again.
It’s nothing. Keep telling yourself that. This is typical male behavior. Read nothing more into it.
Dressed in my lazy white linen shorts and red tank, I slowly make my way to the kitchen. My plans today involve a visit to the local library. I’m in dire need of some books to pass the time. Something about borrowing a used book is so satisfying. But my mind and thoughts are elsewhere. I grab my phone and hit dial to Nicholas, desperate to clear my guilty conscience.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he greets, his silky-smooth voice just how I remember it.
“I wanted to see how you are?”
“Not the same without you, but work is busy.”
“How was New York?”
There’s a silence in his voice. “Good. Had some client dinners.”
“Nice…” I didn’t know what else to say. This is the extent of our conversations these days. It feels forced and like catching up with a friend more than a soon-to-possibly-be fiancé.
