Kenzie
The thumping of the bass was killing me. A slow, tortured, sleep-deprived death. I buried my head under the pillow for the third night in a row. Now, I wasn’t against music. Quite the opposite, actually. I had amassed a pretty decent collection of classic rock albums on vinyl. But what I did oppose was the amp being switched to eleven all night long while my child and I tried to sleep.
My bedroom door opened, and Cole stumbled in, rubbing the sleep out of his eye with his teddy wedged tightly under his arm. “Mumma, I can’t sleep.”
Dammit.
“Come here, honey.” I opened my arms for him, and he climbed in bed beside me.
“They’re very noisy, aren’t they?”
“They are. I’ll go and speak to them tomorrow and tell them to keep it quiet from now on.”
“Can you tell them now, so I can sleep?” He yawned and snuggled into my pillows.
I banged my fist against the wall and listened for the music to soften. It didn’t. In fact, I was pretty sure they cranked it even higher.
“You stay right here. I’ll be back in a minute.” I kissed his blond curls and climbed out of bed, cursing my new neighbour I hadn’t even met yet, let alone seen, as I went in search of my keys.
I was only going to knock on the door and politely demand they shut their music off at a decent hour so I wouldn’t have to resort to shoving my foot up their ass. I’d be gone for two minutes, max. But no way was I leaving my apartment unlocked. Chace had been hanging around for weeks. Constant phone calls. Text messages. Showing up outside. Demanding to see his son. Over my dead body.
I locked the door as a precaution. I didn’t trust Chace. At all. Each time I saw him, he appeared more and more deranged. He’d disappear for a week or two, only to show up again an absolute wreck. I didn’t know what I saw in him when I was fourteen. He was a complete narcissist. If I had more money, I’d pack Cole up and move us into a nice house with a back yard, where Chace couldn’t find us, but I didn’t. So, we lived in a shoebox of an apartment, with noisy neighbours and disappearing keys.
Where the hell were they? I checked the fruit bowl, the hook by the door, my handbag, the TV unit, the coffee table, kitchen table, the freezer, the microwave, inside my leather boots—all the usual places, but they were nowhere to be seen. I cursed to myself and began flipping the cushions on the sofa, pulling Cole’s toys out of the basket in the living room. And then I searched the kitchen and the pantry.
Ah-ha! In the cookie jar. Of course. Cole had been playing with the keys, driving the cookies around the table like cars, after dinner.
I grabbed them and walked to the door, making sure to lock it behind me. Casting a nervous glance down the hall to make sure no one was lurking, I padded over to the next apartment. It was bad that I worried about someone hiding in the shadows, but I wouldn’t put it past Chace to do just that.
The music was so loud I doubted they’d hear me knock. Regardless, I bashed both my fists against the door for added affect. I didn’t expect the door to swing open, though. And I certainly didn’t expect to come face to face with a naked chest.
I dropped my gaze to floor, taking in my neighbour’s bare feet and black track suit pants, moving up the expanse of his chest, the tattoos that beautifully decorated his pecs, arms, shoulders, and finally looked at his face.
Him.
I knew him. I just didn’t know how I couldn’t have realized he was my new neighbour. Surely, it would have come up in conversation at some point over the last couple of weeks.
He grinned and flicked a black lock of hair out of his face before holding up one finger, indicating I should wait.
Why should I wait for him?
I was there for a reason.
He turned and walked into his living room, over to his stereo, and lowered the volume. Meanwhile, I stared at the muscles in his back, the way they moved and tensed as he leaned down and picked up a shirt.
“Can I help you with something?” He smirked, sliding his grey t-shirt over his head and restricting my view of his abs.
My mouth watered.
Oh, my god. What was wrong with me?
“Turn your goddamn music down. I have a child who is trying to sleep next door,” I growled at him.
He looked at me, then at the stereo, cupping his hand around his ear. “Hear that?” he asked. “No music.”
“Let’s keep it that way. Yeah?”
He shrugged. “You live next door?”
“Clearly.” I turned and stormed out.
“Wait,” he called after me.
I stopped and turned to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. “What?”
His eyes darkened as he looked my body up and down, not once, but twice. Wiping his mouth, he said, “I’m sorry about the noise, babe.”
I scoffed. “The sincerity of that apology was shot to hell the moment you called me babe. I’m not your babe.” I stalked out of his apartment.
“But you are one,” he said, sticking his head out the door.
“One what?” I paused with my key in the lock. I was asking for trouble simply by standing near him.
“A babe.”
“Yeah, I get that all the time.” I laughed humourlessly. “You’re a pig.”
“What? You got a great ass.”
“You did not just say that.” I acted offended, when in reality, it was kind of nice to hear. No one had ever told me I had a great ass before. No one had ever called me a babe.
“Not my fault you stormed into my living room looking sexy as hell in that.” He gestured to my clothes, and I cursed myself for forgetting to put something on over my tank top and short shorts.
“Just keep the music down, okay?” I said, trying to keep my voice even and not let on that he affected me with his words.
“Sure thing, babe.” I opened the door to my apartment and was closing it when he called out again. “And, Kenzie?” I closed my eyes and willed him to shut up. “I think we’re going to be great neighbours.”
I shut the door without a word, hearing him chuckle softly from the other side.
Cole was fast asleep when I returned to the bedroom, curled on his side with the bear Bailey had bought him when she and Ryder left for uni nestled under his chin.
I tiptoed back out to the kitchen for a glass of water. My throat was dry, and a light sheen of sweat coated my skin. It wasn’t an overly warm night, but my body was buzzing, flooded with warmth. I refilled my glass and took it back to bed with me, deciding to settle on top of the covers, hoping I’d cool down.
I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to overtake me. I was exhausted after not getting enough rest the past few nights, no thanks to my cocky neighbour. Sleep didn’t come, though. Instead, I was plagued by images of tattooed torsos and loose pants hanging dangerously low on very defined hips. I was haunted by whiskey-coloured eyes and that rough voice repeating the word “babe” over and over.
I tossed and turned and eventually settled for watching a movie in the living room since I had no doubt I’d fail to sleep again tonight, and it had nothing to do with loud music.
It had everything to do with the way my new neighbour made me feel.
Damn Jeremy Donovan—Harper’s brother.