CHAPTER 4
MACKENNA
After nailing down the lyrics for the song I’d been working on for the past week, I shot off an email to my manager to let her know I should have a demo ready in a few days.
Then I decided to head next door.
My neighbor was the only person I saw on a regular basis. I met Beverly when her parrot escaped through an open window. Sweet Pea had flown straight to my front porch, where I was lounging on my swing. He perched on the armrest, cocked his head to the side, then pooped on my leg.
It was love at first sight. Sort of.
Without bothering to clean up the mess, I continued strumming my guitar and started to sing. The bird began to dance.
As I softly let out the melody, I realized my stage fright didn’t extend to parrots. For the first time in a long time, I performed without a hint of nervousness.
And my audience enjoyed it.
When I was done, he bobbed his head while letting out a series of loud screeches, which alerted his owner to his location.
Beverly had rushed over, apologized, and handed me a handkerchief to clean myself up when she saw the mess on my jeans.
I’d jokingly asked her if I could have playdates with Sweet Pea, and she seemed thrilled about the idea.
Such a sweet lady. She had a tendency to drop an F-bomb or two, but sweet nonetheless.
So, a few times a week I went over to her house to play with my new friend. I liked to clean his cage, change his water, and give him treats while he sat on my shoulder. Sometimes I brought my guitar and he’d listen to me sing.
Today I decided to leave my instrument at home, because my hands were achy and the tips of my fingers were numb from overuse.
As I hopped down my front steps, my feet skidded to a stop.
The same station wagon from earlier was parked on my street. I might not have even noticed it if it hadn’t been for the bumper balls. The car itself was hideous, with fake wood paneling along the sides. The paint job looked like it was maroon at some point, but now it was a faded murky brown.
Grumbling about my new view, I crossed the fifteen feet between my house and Beverly’s and made my way to her backyard. I knocked on the old screen door and waited for an answer. After a minute I decided to let myself in, just like she told me to do if she wasn’t home.
I lifted her stone goose statue and picked up the spare key she kept underneath it. Stepping inside, I listened for Sweet Pea loudly screeching obscenities.
I did hear something loud, but it wasn’t Sweet Pea.
Jimmy Buffet’s ‘Cheeseburger in Paradise’ blared through the house, and I followed the music to the kitchen. I wasn’t sure what I would find, but as long as it wasn’t my neighbor making out with her neighbor I was good.
Turning the corner, I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight in front of me.
It wasn’t Beverly. Or Ernie.
And I most definitely wasn’t good.
A guy wearing nothing but camo-print underwear and a peach-colored apron stood in front of the stove. He was facing away from me, and I caught sight of a large tattoo—angel wings—across the expanse of his muscular back.
Surprised, I let out a high-pitched squeak. The sound got the stranger’s attention and he started to pivot in my direction.
My eyes fell to his sculpted ass, the muscles flexing as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He wore briefs. Not boxers or boxer-briefs—actual tighties. No guy should look good in those, but damn, he did.
His black hair was shorter on the sides and longer on top. Some of the inky strands fell over his forehead, falling to just above his bright green eyes.
His lips were parted in surprise, and something flipped in my stomach at the sight of his mouth. The bottom lip was twice the size of the top. Plump. Pouty.
Dark tattoos painted his chest and he had colorful flowers down the length of his left arm. And…
Is that a nipple piercing?
Because of the apron, I couldn’t see his abs, but my guess was that he had a solid six-pack under there.
I opened my mouth to say something—anything.
I wanted to ask him what he was doing in Beverly’s house. Or apologize for walking in on him while he was naked.
Instead, my social awkwardness presented itself full-force with the words that tumbled out of my mouth next.
“If you tried to hide in the woods, at least no one would be able to see your ass.”
His emerald eyes widened. “What?”
Figuring he probably didn’t hear me the first time because of the loud music, I raised my voice. “Camouflage underwear. Your butt would totally blend in with the bushes.”
Looking like he was caught between laughing and being outraged, he opened his mouth to respond.
Then all hell broke loose.