by Ashley Erin
Copyright © 2015 by Ashley Erin
Cover Design by Cover to Cover Designs
Model: Gunnar DeWitt
Photographer: Furious Fotog
Editing by Jessica Grover
Interior Design: Integrity Formatting
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
“Oof.” Walking into the door that has just slammed in my face, I’m jolted back from the impact and drop the heavy tote box I’m carrying. Lifting my head, I glare daggers into the back walking away from me. “Asshole.”
The fact that the back I’m burning holes into with my eyes is one of the sexiest backs I’ve ever seen just makes me angrier. The form fitting shirt clings to the broad shoulders and shows off the muscles that lie underneath.
Growling at myself for letting my eyes wander down his back to his ass and linger, I tilt my head so I can see the back of his head, continuing to glare at him in hopes that the burn of my eyes will get him to turn around. His dark brown hair is short in the back and on the sides, and perfectly styled on top.
I hope you have an ugly face. I’m not normally so petty to wish this on a person, but it was hard to miss me stumbling from my shitty SUV carrying a tote almost as big as me. Common courtesy states, hold the damn door open.
Finally deciding he won’t turn around, I silently hope he is just visiting and pull the door open. “Thanks for holding the door . . . Asshole.” I mutter under my breath.
Propping the door open with my foot, I lean down and pick up the tote with a grunt. Struggling to get in the door while holding it open and carrying the box that is now the bane of my existence, I trip and end up dropping it to the floor with a crash. Cringing, I look down and hope nothing broke.
“Stupid fucking shit on a stick.” I know, my cursing is creative, but by this point I’ve surpassed irritated and entered the territory of pissed off. My brother was supposed to help me move and of course he is missing in action. It is his legacy. So here I am, making yet another trip up five flights of stairs to the top floor of my new apartment building.
Sexy laughter draws my attention from willing the box I’ve dropped to fly itself up the stairs. The sound is deep and throaty, causing shivers to run down my spine and I look up into the most stunning pair of blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Damn . . . So much for ugly. My eyes scan his face and my body betrays my mind, heart beating a little faster.
He. Is. Striking.
His jawline is defined by a very slight scruff and, as weird as this sounds, he has the perfect nose. It’s not too big or too small. I want to bite his full bottom lip.
Wait. No, I don’t.
At this point his whole body is shaking as he laughs at me and I fix my face into a stony glare. This is a look I’ve spent several years perfecting. Typically, I’ve found that jackasses avoid you when you walk around looking like a bitch and the first 12 years of my life filled the quota for my asshole tolerance.
Unable to resist, I flip him the bird, smirking as shock flits across his face and I turn my back to him as I pick up the monstrosity I now need to carry up the stairs.
Who the hell crams most of their kitchen supplies into one large plastic tote box? This idiot. Glad I don’t need to move again for five years.
I’ve just transferred to Parkland University from a smaller school in Northern Alberta. The campus is beautiful and situated just outside of Jasper National Park. It is vast and I can’t even remember how many acres the campus is situated on. They have over 20 five story apartment buildings, 10 buildings with classrooms and a mall of sorts since it is located so far away from civilization. It is a prestigious university and has one of the best school counselling programs in Western Canada. I love this campus and I’m so excited to call it my home for the next five years.
Adjusting the box as I make my way to the stairs, I glance over my shoulder to see those piercing blue eyes watching me, yet still making no move to help me. See, asshole. Cocking an eyebrow at him, I flip my long hair over my shoulder and start up the stairs.
Shutting the door to my ’69 Camaro, I want to bang my head into a wall. Ava needs me already and I’ve just arrived back at school. Noah has been in the hospital with pneumonia for a few days now and we’re both exhausted from sitting in his room. I just spent the four and a half hour drive from the Stollery Children’s Hospital in Edmonton talking her down and explaining, once again, why I need to be at school this week before classes start. Ava doesn’t mean to drag me away from what I need to do, but our parents are in Europe on vacation and she is feeling stressed.
Turning away from my car, I see a petit woman unloading a box almost as big as she is. Glancing around, I don’t see anyone helping her but they could be inside. Distractedly, I text Ava that Noah will be fine and to get some rest as I push inside my building, accidentally slamming the door behind me.
I’m at my mailbox flipping through to see if my parents have sent me a postcard when a muttered “Asshole” catches my attention, followed by a crash. Spinning around, a shiny halo of light brown hair frames the face of the woman I saw at the vehicle.
I’m willing her to look up when a soft voice growls, “Stupid fucking shit on a stick.” Unable to contain myself, I bust out laughing at the contradiction of her soft voice and the growl of swears coming out of her. She looks up at me, her beautiful hazel eyes glare at me causing me to laugh even harder.
The bitch look she has pointed in my direction is a work of art, but despite this my pants are tightening and I leisurely move my eyes over her body. She looks to be almost a foot shorter than my six foot two. Her body is slender and curvy. My eyes linger on her rack appreciatively before lifting back to her eyes, it’s kind of a dick thing to do but I can’t help myself. She flips me the bird and turns her back on me causing my lips to lift in a smile. This girl has spunk.
Groaning as she bends over, her jeans accentuate her perfect, round ass and I adjust myself, unable to tear my eyes away. As she stands up, she looks over her shoulder at me before flipping her luscious hair over her shoulder and heading up the stairs.
Guilt floods me as I see her struggle under the weight of
the plastic tub she is carrying and I’m about to offer to help her when my phone vibrates.
Sighing as I see Ava’s face light up my screen, I glance back at the stairs and grunt in frustration. Well, I’ve made a shitty impression on my new neighbor, but the vibrating of my phone is a splash of cold water on my reality.
Sliding my finger across the screen, “Ava?”
Her sobbing voice pulls my focus to what she is saying, “He . . . He . . . He . . .” Hiccups break out over the phone.
“Deep breaths and slow down. He who?” My voice is calm and soothing, even though I suspect I know who exactly she is talking about.
I slowly start walking up the stairs to my apartment. I’m glad to be on the top floor. There are only two units up there and I don’t have to deal with noisy upstairs neighbors. The unit directly across the hall from me has been empty since I started at Parkland a year ago and I’m crossing my fingers that it stays that way. Although . . . It would be nice to see that gorgeous woman’s face every day.
“Joe called. He said he is too busy to come sit with Noah if he isn’t discharged. All I wanted was to go to a friend’s house, shower and get some rest. I’m so tired and Noah has been asking for him and he can’t even be there for his son even though he can make time for his newest conquest.” I curse thinking of the sperm donor that is my nephew’s father. If it wasn’t for the fact that my sister and nephew needed me so much, I would beat the shit out of that asshole.
“Ava . . . I don’t know why you get your hopes up. When has he ever pulled through for you?” Regretting my words almost as soon as I say them, I murmur something consoling to her.
The only reason he financially contributes is because Mom and Dad took him to court after the asshat had the nerve to ask for a paternity test, destroying my then 16 year old sister’s already shattered heart. He left her when she was about eight months pregnant, wasn’t even at the hospital to watch his son being born. It still took her a year after Noah was born to give up hope on getting back together with the douche and recognize how worthless he truly is.
Ava’s sobs quiet as I step onto the fifth floor landing. Halting in place, I see the girl from the building entrance inserting her key into the apartment door across from mine. Score. She looks up at me and her eyes widen as I remember to move my feet.
Holding the phone between my ear and shoulder as Ava talks about something, I’m no longer paying attention to anything but the hazel eyes warily watching me. I nod at her with a small smile hoping she will return the gesture. Instead she turns away from me with a frown and drags the plastic tote into her apartment and shuts the door in my face.
Sighing, I remember why it’s probably for the best that I don’t get involved with her when Ava’s raised voice pulls me back to the conversation I was having.
Slumping against the door, I scold myself for being so attracted to him. My heart is still fluttering as I picture the single dimple in his right cheek.
“You know the rule. No assholes. It doesn’t matter how hot they are with their cocky smirks and tempting dimples.” Muttering to myself, I drag the tote to the small galley kitchen centered in my apartment. My hopes that he is just visiting were crushed when I saw the mail he held in his hand.
Exhaustion floods my body as the past day catches up with me. My father found out what university I was attending in the spring and it had become hell hiding from him. His random texts that he has changed and got help no longer hold any weight, I’ve heard it before. Somehow he had found out I was moving and started blowing up my phone last night. I ended up leaving the dorm at three o’clock in the morning in order to avoid a confrontation and based off my notifications, he wasn’t happy about that. Maybe it’s time to reinstate the restraining order. Loathe to do that, I decide to ignore him as usual and hope he loses interest.
My phone dings again and I groan, lose interest my ass. I’m going to have to change my number AGAIN. Flipping it over from where it lays face down on my small kitchen table I’m both relieved and irritated to see it’s my brother, Dax.
Dax: I’m sorry I bailed, Nugget.
Rolling my eyes at the nickname, I send him an angry face. My older brother is notoriously unreliable, yet I can’t help but get my hopes up whenever he promises to come through. I love him dearly, but the constant disappointment is hard to take. The men in my life have always been sorely lacking and I have no tolerance for it. Dax manages to weasel his way in because at his core he is a good guy, he just makes some sketchy decisions.
Dax: Something came up that I had to deal with. I’m okay, but I need to lay low for a while.
Me: What kind of trouble are you in now? You PROMISED you were going to change things and try harder.
Dax: I am . . . I will explain when I get there in a couple days. I’ve enrolled in your school . . . Roomy.
Me: Seriously? You’re attending university? Parkland University? Who did you bribe to get in?
Dax: Be nice and don’t sound so surprised, you’re not the only one with brains in this family. See you Wednesday.
Me: Sure . . . Love you.
Dax: Little faith, I’m going to prove to you that I’m trying. Promise.
I feel my hopes lifting again and shove them down. There is nothing that I want to believe more . . . that Dax will show up here two days from now and be ready to commit to something other than riding his motorcycle and finding women to warm his bed. And the women are drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. Bad boys, most girl’s weakness. Despite my doubt that he will come through, I ready the second bedroom for him before going to unload the rest of my belongings.
Flipping my phone absentmindedly as I surf the channels on my TV, I try not to look at the door each time I hear my new neighbor coming and going. She is going to be a distraction and now that the excitement of having an attractive neighbor has worn off, I find myself disgruntled at how one interaction, a fairly hostile interaction, has me aroused and intrigued.
Turning the volume up so I can no longer hear her, I finally settle on a Top Gear marathon. This show has to be the greatest car show ever and soon I’m immersed in laughing at the guys as they create their very own RV’s. Classic.
I wonder if the neighbor likes Top Gear.
Fuck. No, no I don’t.
Although, there is no harm in being neighborly. I mean we are going to live across the hall from each other for at least three years.
Yep, I can handle that. Friendly neighbors, it’s manageable. I haven’t really had friends that were girls, it was always easier not to because boundaries tend to blur when hormones get involved, but I’m twenty-two, I think I can handle it.
I mean, I could handle postponing school and helping Ava with Noah, I think I can handle a sexy neighbor for a friend.
A makeshift RV falling over a cliff draws my eyes back to the TV. Laughing, I enjoy the rest of the episode. As the credits roll, I look at my gym bag by the door. I really should get off my ass and go to the gym but I think I will make time for one more episode.
Peering out my peep hole, I slowly open the door when the coast is clear. Wow, I’m utterly ridiculous. He lives across the hall, it’s inevitable that I will run into him. I can handle that. Straightening my shoulders, I stare at his door for a brief moment.
Seriously, he is just a guy and I’m not the same I was two years ago. I can be civil even if he has already demonstrated that he is inconsiderate and, well, an asshole. I couldn’t tell you when I came up with the no asshole rule, but my father had a huge part to play in its development. I swore to myself that I would never let myself be in the position my mom was when she left my father almost eight years ago.
Closing the door and locking it, I back up and smack into a warm, hard body. Startled, I jump away and smash my knee into the doorway.
“Mother fucker.” It slips out. I can’t help it, I swear like a sailor and the fact that I just ran straight into the person who has been occupying my brain, much to my irritation, along with the sma
rting in my knee makes this moment the icing on the shittastic cake.
It’s really not fair to him, we haven’t spoken and I already dislike him. If the day hadn’t been so long and I hadn’t already been disappointed by Dax I might be a little more forgiving, but as it is he has become the target of my frustration. When did I become such a bitch? Oh yeah. The moment my dead beat dad, the man who is supposed to be my safety, held a knife to my hip when my mom threatened to leave with us.
Resentment at her for using us as a threat instead of just packing up and going fills me. Being used as a tool between my parents, yeah that’s a great way to raise a child. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom and as I got older I realize she wasn’t in an emotional space to know she was doing wrong, but I’m still not fully over it.
“Are you alright?” My body shudders in pleasure at the sound of his deep voice. Dammit, why couldn’t he have a nasally voice. No, it has to be panty wetting, shiver inducing, come right then and there sexy. Fuck. My. Life. Figures I would be sexually aroused for the first time in forever by some random stranger who pisses me off.
“Fine, thanks.” My attempt at a sarcastic, bitchy tone is ruined by how breathy my voice is. Argh! I just want to hit something, good thing I’m about to find the gym. This bad mood needs a release and lifting some weights is the best way to do it.
Taking a deep cleansing breath, I turn to face him. His eyes, his smile, they make me feel like I’ve just taken a punch to the gut. It makes me hate him.
It’s a wonder I’ve ever had a boyfriend. My first reaction to most men is to dislike them, distrust them. I mean, my father set that up, followed by my two ex-boyfriends dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s. The one broke up with me when I wouldn’t put out and the second broke up with me after I did. If I’ve learned anything about men in my life, it’s that they destroy everything in their path to get what they want. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of decent men out there, they have just eluded me.
