New Year's Next Door (Romance on the Go Book 0)

by Amabel Daniels

  “That’s fine.” A low blue glow shone from the ground outside. Palm trees and potted exotics surrounded the spot. “Oooh. Is that a hot tub?” she called out, walking into the cozy man-cave.

  Just past the sliding doors was a sunken-in spa. Yeah, she could totally get why he’d prefer this end of the house.

  “Yeah,” he yelled out from the other room.

  He returned with the bottles and handed them to her. “Out, Polly. We don’t need you begging.” He went to the door and shooed the pit bull outside. Well, first he ordered her, then wheedled, and pleaded. When he picked up a squeaky toy and threw it into the backyard, the animal finally obeyed.

  Ava’s jaw dropped. “Wow.” The pink bone could have hit the fence at the back of the property. “Hell of an arm you got there.”

  Caleb almost smiled as he met her at the couch.

  “Seriously. That was like fifty yards away!”

  “I like to stay in shape.”

  Understatement of the century.

  “So, how come it’s been a bad year?” He sat on the sofa and she lowered herself next to him.

  Mmmm. So, so soft. She could sink in and never want to get out. “Long story.”

  She wanted to hear him say they had all night. When he didn’t, she opened the top pizza box and slid it closer to him.

  He picked up a slice and held it out to clink it with hers. Cheesy. The food and his humor. A toast with pizza slices? She smiled.

  “Well, here’s to an end of a shitty year,” he proposed.

  “Cheers.” She knocked her slice to his. After a few bites, she reclined and mimicked him, propping her feet on the coffee table. “Now to figure out how to have a better year…” She sighed.

  “What, like resolutions?”

  She shrugged. It was freeing to talk to him, someone unaware of her woes. His laid-back frankness called to her. He was plenty polite, and quiet, too. She was glad he didn’t seem the kind of person to babble with useless small talk. And his distracting hotness didn’t have her tripping over her words. Yet.

  “Maybe.” Resolving to change her lifestyle would do squat though. No, she wasn’t convinced of personal perfection. Far from it. And perfect was boring, anyway. But her problems, other than calling off her engagement, were circumstances that happened to her, not actions she’d chosen.

  “Please don’t tell me you want to lose weight,” he said.

  Rearing back, she snorted. “Whatcha see is whatcha get.”

  His slow and sexy smile was all the more exciting when he licked his lower lip. Probably chasing grease from the food, not seducing her. Yet the simple action zeroed her in on all the other things that could be tasty on him.

  “Then what? Get a new job?”

  “I love what I do.”

  “Lucky you,” he murmured before exhaling deeply. “Which is…?”

  She wiped her mouth. “I teach German at Kennedy High.”

  “Hmm. Start meditation? Travel more? Learn how to yodel?”

  God, he was goofy. “Yodel?” she asked around a giggle.

  His shoulders shrugged against the couch, emphasizing his rigid pecs under the straining t-shirt. “I don’t know. Trying to think of what someone would make for a resolution.”

  “I’ll add yodeling to my list.” She leaned forward, elbows to knees, and picked up another slice but set it right back down. “I’m not sure changing myself would really improve 2018.”

  “Conceited much?”

  She almost smacked his thigh, loving how easy it was to volley in silly banter with a virtual stranger. Not really, though. She knew he was her neighbor and a dog lover. And sexier than any male she’d ever met. “No. Maybe I just need to learn how to cope with the lemons life throws me.”

  “Yeah?” Seemingly done with his food, he slung his arm onto the back of the couch, set one foot flat on the coffee table, and rested his forearm on his raised knee. He appeared relaxed, sure of himself with that smirk, and … surprisingly intrigued, if she had to guess. “What lemons did you get?”

  Ah. He’s had some bad luck too? She knew next to nothing about him, but his inquires didn’t strike her as nosy, or judging.

  “Ready?” She sat back, tucking her leg under her to face him fully. “Lemons of 2017.” After a deep breath, she prepared to get it all out in a rush. “My cat died. My—”

  He jerked back, eyes wide. “How did… Did Polly—”

  “Oh!” She relaxed at his sudden reaction. “No! No, no. Whiskers had twenty years of a good life. I gave her a fitting funeral in May, before you even moved in.”

  “Okay. I just worried… Anyway.” He held his hand up, prompting her to continue.

  “All right. Let’s see. More lemons. My social security number was stolen online”—she flicked her hand to the ceiling—“which caused this whole identity fraud catastrophe that still isn’t closed. My car that I’d just paid off was totaled by a dude who was driving distractedly because he was getting road head, and somehow I was screwed over in the insurance negotiations. Hence that hideous vehicle in my driveway—all I could afford after receiving zilch from those idiots.”

  She sucked in a breath before spewing out more. “Then my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Helped my mom take him to appointments, surgeries, and so on. He’s in remission now. Thank God. But then Mom needed double knee replacement surgery she’d procrastinated on for too long, so I had to take off even more time to help her recoup. Oh, I was also charged with assaulting a minor at school, which led to this crap-ass months-long legal war. And since I called off my engagement in July, I’ve had to take on extra tutoring sessions to handle the mortgage on the house. As in, I’ve worked day and night as much as I could—always busy. Which is why my friends assumed I wouldn’t be interested in joining them for a New Year’s Eve party they invited me to and then ditched me.”

  He sat there with a stoic expression, his brown eyes unblinking.

  Too much? Yeah, I think so too.

  “Ta da!” She did mini jazz hands.

  Then he furrowed his brow. “Whoa.”

  “Exactly.”

  Breathing slower from her word vomit, she relished the calm. She was lighter for venting it all out. Vocalizing it to leave it in the past.

  Scratching came from the sliding door and Caleb stood. “Just a sec.” He let Polly in and collected the pizza boxes. While he took their trash away, Polly launched herself at Ava, wiggling and wagging into an awkward snuggle.

  “First, my condolences for your pet. And good news about your parents,” he said when he returned.

  “Thanks.” Ava tried to stop laughing at Polly’s antics for attention. “You think you’re a lapdog, huh?”

  “My first pet. Sorry she’s not the best-behaved mutt,” he said.

  “But still so freaking cute.” She hugged Polly closer as she breathed in the puppy smell. Polly’s badgering comfort forced Ava to lie sideways, more than sit upright, on the sofa. Caleb set two more water bottles on the coffee table. He picked up her bare feet, held them midair while he sat, and then set her legs on his lap. She repressed a slight shiver at the tingle of his warm hands on her. “Assaulting a minor?” he asked.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Then how…”

  Playfully choke-holding Polly down, she gave her attention back to Caleb. “There was a student who got a little infatuated with me. Started with hitting on me, asking me weird stuff, lingering in the classroom. Really uncomfortable BS. I followed all the protocols, talked to the principal, the counselors, the works. Nothing really helped. One day I was helping a student after a class. Someone came up behind me and grabbed my boob. So I elbowed him and followed with a punch.”

  Caleb clapped.

  “Yeah, well, I almost knocked him out. My dad is a retired cop. He taught me all kinds of self-defense. So my ‘elbow and punch combo’ was a little more technical than another woman’s might have been. And the kid landed on my desk and earned a gash on his head. There was blood ever
ywhere.”

  “You didn’t make him grope you. It was his fault.”

  She sighed. Exactly. “Anyway, his parents were beyond pissed. Wanted me fired, arrested. They did press charges eventually. But I’d had almost a year’s worth of complaints documented against him. Other students and another teacher were in the room when it happened, all eyewitnesses who verified he assaulted me. I didn’t even know it was him. I just knew I was being groped and reacted. But his mom was out for revenge. Shamed me online, saying I was an abuser, a pedophile. Got the news involved. Claimed I was leading her son on.”

  “Leading him on?” Caleb raised his brows. “Wearing dresses that showed no skin?”

  O-kay? Maybe he’d been spying on her out the window to know she wore vintage apparel to work. She tilted her head and slanted her brow.

  His lips curled into that shy smile. “I’m not some kind of Mrs. Kravitz. I, uh saw you sometimes.” He nodded his head to the left at the same time he set his hands on her feet. “My kitchen windows look out right at your driveway. I’d see you coming home in those dresses.”

  The fact he could reference Bewitched was awesome in itself. Besides, she’d certainly tried her hardest to watch him. Served her right, karma and all that. “Vintage dresses are my vice.”

  “Not sure your little black one earlier is vintage.” He tapped a finger on a red line that marked where her oh-so-pretty but plantar fasciitis-causing heels had trapped her toes. “And I’m sure women didn’t wear sexy footwear back then either.”

  She shrugged.

  His fingers began to knead the soles of her feet and she bit back a moan. Touchy-feely, he was. But damn did it feel good.

  As though he’d read her thoughts, he ceased the massage. “Thought I’d help counter your bad day. And night. Year. This is okay?”

  “Hell, yes.” She let him rub her feet and she petted Polly as she sprawled between them. I could get used to this. Speaking to someone who wasn’t rushing to judge—it highlighted the appeal of his unfamiliarity. “So she slandered me. And they carried on all kinds of drama for months.”

  “He wasn’t in your class anymore, though, right?”

  “Yes. They actually transferred him to an all-boys’ school.” She shook her head, hating the residual bitterness about the entire ordeal. “She even tried to claim it was his hormones. He wasn’t able to control himself around his so-called slutty teacher.”

  Caleb rolled his eyes.

  “I’m just grateful the principal was so reasonable about it. The student was the lead quarterback on the varsity team. So he had more than a few people pressuring him to go easy on the teen and just fire me.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “Ja.”

  Conversation stalled. She watched him concentrate on her feet in his lap. When he raised his gaze to meet hers, he said, “So not only are you smart, bold, and gorgeous, you can take care of yourself too. You’re what? Five-six? And you took on a quarterback? That’s impressive.”

  “Thanks.”

  Finished with her summary of problems, she couldn’t ignore the fact she’d shared a mini-autography while learning next to nothing about him. He aced the good listener test, but what was he holding back?

  More importantly, though, she freaked at the probable reasons of why he might not spilling his story to her. Because I’m a stranger? He obviously enjoys his privacy? Because I’m only supposed to be here to make a phone call?

  Jerking up, she woke Polly. Caleb’s brown eyes focused on her. “What?”

  Shit. She’d gotten so comfortable just … hanging out with him … that she’d completely forgotten about calling Mom for her spare key.

  Shitty shit. She couldn’t even call Mom, because she’d forgotten her cell at home. Ava could call Jackie to relay the message to Mom, but she hadn’t memorized Jackie’s digits.

  2017, you suck donkey balls.

  “Uh, I was supposed to use your phone.” She winced, praying she hadn’t overstayed her stay.

  Caleb blinked and raised his brows. “Fuck. I forgot. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you.”

  She relaxed to smile. “No worries. Not like I was dying to get back to the House Hunters marathon on my TV.”

  “Oh my God. How can you watch that?” He scoffed, reaching for his cell phone on the coffee table. “The women are always so wishy washy.” He pulled a face and in an awful attempt to morph his deep voice into a woman’s, he said, “My husband and I really want to downsize, so please, at least two walk-in closets and his and her bathrooms in the master’s.”

  Water shot into her nose as she laughed mid-sip. “Oh come on! Some of the men are unbelievable.” She frowned and tried for a low baritone, posing as a male on the show. “I can’t wait to get a fixer-upper even though I’ve never even dirtied these strong manly hands with changing a light bulb.”

  Laughing, he shook his head.

  “I kinda like to watch for the amusement of people’s oxymoronic lists,” she said.

  He tossed his cell into her lap. “It is funny. But really, I apologize. I was, well, I was having fun and I didn’t realize how long you’d been stuck here.”

  “I’m not stuck here,” she said, picking up the phone but not entering anything. Actually, I really am. I’m screwed. Until Mom is done with her shift. “You’re not shabby company.”

  He settled back onto the couch, lying instead of sitting, facing her. His strong legs caged in her slimmer ones, and Polly dozed in the middle of their limb sandwich. “Then why not stay a little longer?” After grabbing the remote, he changed the muted ESPN to a standard channel. “Watch the ball drop with me?”

  Chapter Four

  Why not stay?

  He smiled when she’d agreed, hopeful they could “get to know each other” even more intimately than via communication. Something along the lines of removing her pajamas, shucking his t-shirt and shorts, finally learning if her lips were as soft as they appeared, if she was a daring lover or a timid treat…

  But inside he was cringing at what she’d want to ask him. Which was only fair after she’d told him so much about herself. Having listened to her craptastic year, he could imagine how she’d react to his short list of low moments.

  I sprained my ankle.

  Only, that one little injury had rippled into so many larger issues.

  As she situated herself on the couch again, she crossed her arms behind her head and stared at him. It was a warm gaze, an appreciative one, he thought. But instead of letting his little head triumph in the chance she was interested in him physically, he mentally groaned at the likelihood she was curious in other ways.

  While she took her time watching him, he roved his gaze over her, too, following the curves of her hips and breasts, the wetness of her just-licked lips. When her throat tightened as she swallowed, he tore himself from leering and met her eyes.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Are you a drug dealer?”

  His chest moved so much with his laugh that Polly’s head rolled down.

  “No, I’m not. You don’t seem to have very high opinions of me.”

  “Not much to go on.”

  Touché. But then again, it meant she wanted to know more, which was encouraging. Wasn’t it? Yeah, it seemed it was. Ava held his fascination from the first time he’d glanced at her next door in a pale-blue triangular thing he’d seen pictures of his grandmother wearing decades ago. At first, he’d wondered if she was an actress for a fifties sitcom, or Mrs. Beaver reincarnated. And now having come to know her, her personality charmed him even more.

  Since she didn’t recognize him, he had a chance to show her who he really was. If he could get over himself and take the risk.

  She went on. “It’s just that I’ve never even really seen you before today.” She poked his leg with her toe. “Now I know I have a neighbor in the flesh. I figured you worked midnight shifts, or from home.”

  Here goes.

  She moved her foot back and forth aga
inst his thigh, sliding the mesh fabric of his shorts against his skin. Footsie or a rub, it didn’t matter. It was soothing.

  “I’m retired.”

  Her brows shot up.

  Knowing he had to give her more than that, he reached out and gripped her immobile calf, massaging her warm, soft skin in response to her ministrations.

  “This isn’t easy for me to talk about. But I was a professional athlete. Had been for seven years. I sprained my ankle and that was the end of it.”

  “Ouch.” She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.” He exhaled slowly. “So I’ve been in rehab, physical therapy, surgeries. You name it, we’ve tried it. I’m officially done.”

  She nodded, her lips turning down in a moment of seriousness.

  “I was married to one of the cheerleaders, and when I learned my sports days were over, so was our marriage. She’d been two-timing with my teammate anyway.”

  Her brows raised as her lips pursed into a knowing smirk. “Good riddance?”

  He tried to smile. “Very good riddance.” From day one theirs was a poorly matched and incompatible marriage. In all honesty, he shouldn’t have waited until his injury to claim an out. New year, new start, right?

  “After I knew I was done for good, I wanted a simple place to have some peace and quiet. To recover.”

  “To hide?”

  He could give her that. Smirking, he said, “Something like that. This house belonged to one of my physical therapists. He’d just inherited it from his grandparents, and since it seemed like a quiet neighborhood, I thought it’d be decent place to figure out what to do next. I bought it from him, and here I am.”

  “Quiet until I barged in?” She asked it with a sweet smile.

  “More like until my mutt broke into your house.”

  She tilted her head. “True. So what is, or can be, next for you?”

  He sighed, slipping lower on the couch. No boo-hooing or “aw, poor baby” from her. He appreciated her right-to-the-point thinking. Maybe having one hit after another for the whole year taught her to sincerely adapt and move on from problems.