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He nods, “It's one of the U.S. Army's elite counterterrorism units—kind of like the Navy SEALs, but we focus more on a variety of special operations. We're trained to handle high-stakes situations that others can't, ranging from hostage rescues to covert recon missions abroad.”
A wave of relief washes over me, and I wipe my forehead theatrically. “Phew,” I exaggerate, “I was worried you were in a gang and the injury was from a drug deal gone bad.”
He laughs, a sound so genuine and infectious that it makes all my tensions unravel. “I like you, neighbor,” he says, his smile reaching his eyes.
Just call me butter on a hot summer day because I'm melting.
“The verdict is still out on you,” I retort, my fingers tapping rhythmically against the glass. “So, you're not in a gang, no girlfriend, you don’t seem the partying type.”
“I’m not,” he confirms with an assuring tone.
“What other red flags should I be aware of?”
“I guess you'll have to come over more often to find out,” he says with a hint of mischief in his voice. “What about you, Poppy? So far, I know you have some questionable friends.”
“Just one friend,” I correct him, “but she’s extremely questionable.”
“You forget to take care of yourself, like to faint, you hire unreliable movers, and you dated a loser. Anything else I should know about my new neighbor?”
I hum and haw, my gaze drifting over his boxes. “I love to organize.”
He cringes sarcastically. “Ugh, you’re one of those types. So, you’re going to be insanely neat. No trash or pizza boxes piling up outside your door?”
“Nope,” I pop the 'P,' feeling a smile spread across my face.
I like this. This strange, open, and honest interaction. Why can’t every conversation with a man be like this?
“Are all men in Texas like you?” I blurt out impulsively.
He shakes his head, a playful seriousness in his eyes. “No. You should stay away from every man you meet. If you need anything, just ask me.” His head tilts slightly as he continues to observe me.
“Be careful what you offer, neighbor." I playfully poke.
“I know what I’m offering, Poppy,” he replies confidently.
Are we referring to sex? Neighbors with benefits?
I'm so out of my league. I need Harper to translate this for me.
“You’re dangerous,” I kid, a lightness in my tone.
“No, I’m honest, which sometimes is scarier,” Julian chides gently. “But I like what I see, and I’m glad you’re my neighbor and not some retired guy who likes to chug beers and yell at the TV.”
“I’m glad you’re my neighbor, too. Mainly because you managed to catch me when I fainted,” I nod at his arm in the sling. “A one-handed catch, too. That definitely earns you bonus points.”
He laughs again; it’s a sound that fills the room with warmth. “I look forward to filling up my scorecard.”
We talk and talk and…talk. It’s so simple and easy to talk to Julian. Eventually, we’re both completely relaxed, sharing old and new stories. I feel like I’ve known him for years, and the way he keeps talking to me and opening up makes me think he feels the same. As a matter of fact, we’ve been sitting here so long that I’m starting to notice little things about my handsome new neighbor, like how his lip tugs up more on the right side than the left or how he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to try to stifle a laugh.
I stretch my legs out and feel a rush of tingles. "We've been sitting here for so long my legs fell asleep."
His eyes slowly look down my body from my hips to my toes. The moment becomes supercharged, and if I were as wild as Harper, I’d just crawl onto his lap and kiss him.
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to waste so much of your time."
"You're not wasting my time, Poppy. You can swing by anytime. Matter of fact, I hope you do."
I dip my chin to hide my smile. “I’ll try to.”
