BAILEY
I’ve not been able to stop thinking about the guy living in the apartment above the garage next door. I’ve nicknamed him ‘Hot Neighbour’ because I’ve never seen anyone so good-looking before. He’s the type of guy who belongs on the front cover of magazines or in underwear ads. Everything about him is sexy, even the way he moves. He has swagger most guys think they have, but in reality they just look like morons.
I’ve been waiting to get a glimpse of him ever since he came over again this morning. I almost jump when I hear cars pull in, their lights shining briefly into my living area.
I move the netting away from the window just slightly, peeking out at my neighbours to see two cars stop just outside of the garage.
At first, I thought the guy living above Mary’s garage was her grandson or something. When I went over to ask her if she would give him my note, to make sure he was okay, she explained he’s helping her out around the house. My grandparents never mentioned Mary was even back in the UK.
When we chatted through Skype, my grandma explained that someone had vandalised Mary’s house while she was living abroad with her daughter and family. The guy she offered to let live there offered to do the work for cheap rent, so she could afford to replace the furniture she lost.
I don’t remember much of Mary. When we visited, we were only kids. By the time I came to live with my grandparents, she was gone. We were lucky our house wasn’t vandalised, too, because we were gone a year, the house empty for the duration.
My breath catches when my neighbour steps out of the passenger side, going towards the back like he’s in a rush.
My first impression of him wasn’t a good one. I thought he was a little crazy, if I’m honest. He was kneeling in a bed of stinging nettles and it didn’t even faze him. I had seen him storming over towards the house and had hesitated about answering the door. When I finally got the courage, he was on the phone to someone and looked so lost. I wanted to be the one to guide him to where he needed to be. I don’t even know what had compelled me to have those kinds of thoughts; I just knew I wanted to help him.
I was going to turn around and head back inside, to give him privacy, but then he dropped to his knees in those nettles and I couldn’t walk away. Something pulled me to him. It was frustrating when he wouldn’t turn to look at me so I could read his lips. I still don’t know if he said anything to me that day. It didn’t help I was flustered over seeing him with no shirt on. He was beautiful.
Our second meeting didn’t go too well either. He was talking too fast for me to read his lips, and because of his deep voice, it just sounded like someone was speaking too closely into a microphone. And that was after I managed to pull my gaze away from the tiny bundle in his arms.
My eyes draw together when he pulls said baby out of the car, still in her car seat. Her legs are kicking up a fuss and her arms are flailing around, so I imagine she’s screaming. He looks down at her lovingly, his lips moving sensuously before leaving the others to empty their boots. I’m curious to know if the baby is his. He never had her the first time I met him, and he seems so young—too young to be a dad. He has to be about a year or two younger than my just turned nineteen self.
I look at the women’s faces, wondering which of them is the mother. Both women are drop-dead gorgeous. One has dirty blonde hair that reaches her shoulders, and a slim frame. Even from here I can see she has expressive eyes. They look big and round and stand out as one of her best features.
The other has curves, but she works them and looks sexy as hell when she walks. Her hair is a reddish-brown colour, and suits her creamy skin tone. I watch as she smiles at the scary guy next to her, and dimples form, making her look sweet.
Maybe she’s with him and not the hot dad.
The guy, my new neighbour, is all kinds of hot, and I sigh when I find I can no longer ogle him.
I drop the curtain, heading back to the room I’ve made into my office, and sit down at my desk.
When my grandparents said they were remodelling the house and would be leaving it to me until they decided to come back—if ever—I had been surprised. They even went to the trouble of ordering my office supplies, sparing no expense when I told them I wanted to come home. They wanted me to feel at home, so they set up my office with everything I would need and more. For a web and logo designer, I picked up a lot of work. My latest one was for a new carpet factory opening and they wanted me to design opening day boards, their web page, and posters. It was keeping me busy.
My disability doesn’t stop me from living life, but it also doesn’t make some aspects of it any easier. I’m glad it doesn’t affect my work because it’s the only thing that keeps me sane, and I can do it from anywhere.
Every time it affects something in my life, I’m reminded of how I ended up the way I am. I can hear sound, but it’s muffled, like I’m under water. I can’t make out what someone is saying to me without looking at them and reading their lips. Otherwise I can’t trust what is being said.
I was given hearing aids, but all they did was make loud white noise in my ear, to the point I suffered with migraines. It was like they couldn’t pick up the right frequency. After the third fail, I stopped trying further treatments. The last one improved my hearing drastically, and I could hear words more clearly, but it still made me get really bad migraines to the point I’d be in excruciating pain. They also made my ears sore. I was already angry enough that I was deaf, I didn’t need to keep getting my hopes up for them to be let down. It was too heart-breaking. And after my parents and little brother died, I didn’t care much about anything. It was my fault they were dead.
I’ve perfected lip reading over the years. However, I have to be looking at the person talking head on, which is why I couldn’t tell what the guy next door was saying. This morning, I couldn’t keep up with him.
I look out the window that faces my neighbour’s home and give out another breathy sigh when a light flicks on.
I never wanted to come back here. However, my grandparents kept moving from place to place and it was tiring travelling all over the world. I wanted a bed that was my own, and some privacy. I didn’t get any of that while we were travelling. There were times we’d have to share a room if a hotel was fully-booked.
Coming back here after everything that happened has been so hard. I haven’t felt safe, not since I’ve been in this town, so much so that I haven’t even left the house during the day or night since I’ve been back. Now I’m back and I’m worried the group of girls who made my life hell will find out. I’m constantly fearing one of them will turn up or try another stunt to hurt me.
Instead of risking another run-in with them, I’ve stayed in, had shopping delivered to my door, and gone for walks early in the morning when I know I’ll never run into them. Those girls probably haven’t seen eight in the morning since they left school.
I’ve prayed they’ve grown out of their bullying stage, but I know those girls. They will never grow up. They will be living out their school years for years to come.
The screen on my computer flashes, alerting me of an incoming call on Skype, snapping me out of it before I go down the long, dark road of my past. I laugh, like I do every time I see the photo they have as their profile picture. Both grandparents are flashing cheesy grins, their eyes filled with happiness.
Answering the call, I smile at the screen, greeting them, “Hey, guys, where are you now?”
Grandma smiles, shoving my grandpa out of the way so she can lean closer to the camera. I’ve tried explaining the further they sit back, the more I can see of them, but they don’t listen.
“We’re in Vegas, and guess what?” she yells, not waiting for me to answer. “We got married!” She lifts her hand up and shows me the same rings she’s worn since she first married my grandpa.
“You’re already married,” I remind her, laughing.
Grandpa rolls his eyes, moving Grandma out of the way so he can see the screen. “We got married again last night. Sh
e thinks because we were married in the UK, we aren’t legally married here.”
“I didn’t want to live in sin,” she snaps at him before turning to the laptop, her expression softening. “If you know what I mean.”
Gross.
You have to love them though. There isn’t much they could do that would shock me anymore, not since they took me to a nude beach and stripped down to their birthday suits.
“Did you do it the proper way: go gamble at some tables, get drunk, then go get Elvis to marry you?”
Grandma pushes Grandpa away again, leaning even closer to the screen. “We had these lemon-drop thingies. They tasted so good. Made me feel twenty-two again.”
“That’s a yes, then,” I laugh, swinging my chair side to side.
“It was a good night. We wish you could have stayed with us; we’ve missed you,” she says, smiling softly. “Don’t worry about the wedding though, we have it on video. The lovely lady at the front desk said she’ll show us how to email it to you.”
“Looking forward to watching it.” I smile, genuinely excited to see it. I can only imagine how it went.
“Never gonna see us marry again, kid. We don’t have much time on this earth. We’ve got to do things while we’re still young.”
“You’re old,” I remind him, fighting not to laugh when he narrows his eyes at the screen.
“Bite your tongue,” Grandma scolds. “We rocked this bed—”
Grandpa covers her mouth. “The kid doesn’t need to hear what we did last night, woman.” He pushes his face closer to the camera, pushing Gran to the side so she’s out of view. I giggle. “How’s it going there? Everything going okay with the renovations?”
“Good,” I say, not wanting to tell them I had another run-in with my neighbour. They’ll only worry, and since I didn’t hear a word he said to me, I can’t tell if he was angry with me or not. His facial expressions could always be like that. That’s what I choose to believe, anyway. It hurts a little to think he was angry with me. “Actually, is there any way you can tell the builders to come around eight from now on and not six? They keep waking me up, and I’ve been working late some nights to get this project finished.”
I have to have the doorbell attached to me when I go upstairs, otherwise I can’t tell if someone’s at the door. Downstairs, my grandparents had lights installed in the corner of the rooms that flash when it’s rung. The device I carry vibrates. I would leave it outside my room when I go to bed, but something always stops me. What if someone rings it to make sure no one is home before they break in? I’ve read in magazines that it’s happened before. So instead of leaving it, I’ve let them ring it until I’m up and answering the door. It’s driven me mad, especially when some nights I work until the early hours of the morning.
“What time have they been showing up?” Grandpa asks, all business and serious now.
“Before six.”
He eyes my grandma before looking back at me and shaking his head. “I’ll have a word with the manager. Did you not tell them yourself?” I bite my lip, wondering if I should tell them or not. “I know that look. What is it?”
Releasing my lip, I inhale before telling them. “I don’t like them. One guy pinched my arse, another keeps asking me out, and a few of them keep asking me to use the restroom, even though they have a Portaloo at the side of the house. They give me the creeps, so I tend to lock the doors and pretend I’m not here.”
The builders were meant to be working on the new garden for my grandpa. He wanted a brick gazebo, a BBQ set up, and a pond put in at the back. They’ve also been working on the conservatory, but luckily, the back of the house can be closed off from the kitchen, which is what I’ve done.
I was glad it wasn’t them who put the scaffolding up, but a different company. Knowing the men who were working here now, they would perv inside my room.
I’ve been dreading the time they have to come in and start work on the inside of the house.
Grandpa’s face turns red. “I’m firing them. You should have said something sooner. I’m gonna talk to Mary. She said the guy living with her has a family member who runs a construction business. They even do remodels. Do me a solid, kid, run next door and ask your neighbour for the number. Tell them we will pay ten percent over costs and labour for their service.”
“But—”
“I’ll ring them low-lifes now and fire them. The only reason they’ll be there tomorrow is to get their stuff,” he growls, taking his mobile out.
“Now, you take care, Bailey. We’ve got a dance club to get to. But we’ll ring you tomorrow, same time,” Gran rushes out.
“But—”
The call ends and I sit back, wondering how I was the one who got roped into asking for the number.
If I don’t do it, Grandpa will just come back and do it himself, and I want them to have a good time. They’ve looked after me since my parents and little brother died three years ago and have done everything they could to make my life better.
Thankfully, the builders left early today, probably thinking I wouldn’t notice, so I won’t have to worry about them being outside to hound me.
I grab the keys to let myself back in and head out, nerves hitting me when I see the cars are still in the driveway.
I swallow, wondering if I should come back later. He’s got company; it will be rude of me to turn up uninvited.
I look back towards my grandparents’ house, ready to run back inside, but the thought of having those builders come back if I can’t get these ones to work for me has me moving to the stairs leading to the apartment above the garage.
I place my palm on the door before knocking with my other hand, making sure it isn’t too loud, since he has a baby that could be sleeping.
For the first few months after losing my hearing, I would shout instead of talk, and slam things down rather than placing them normally. It was a huge adjustment to work without my hearing.
The door opens slowly, revealing my hot neighbour and the baby girl in his arms. I want to smile down at her adorable face, but I’m too nervous and scared of what he might say.
I realise I’ve been watching her too long because when I look up, he’s frowning, his lips moving too quickly for me to keep up.
I want to run back home and whine to my grandpa for making me do this. It can’t possibly get any worse.
CHAPTER SIX
AIDEN
A knock on the door has me glancing at Lily and Mark, raising my eyebrow. “Bet you that’s Mum.”
Lily laughs from where she’s emptying the shopping bags on the bed. “She’s busy helping Dad today with the new house they bought.”
“Are you gonna help with this?” Mark pants, looking down at the parts for the chest of drawers we bought.
“No, you and Landon have got this,” I tell him absently, not wanting to put Sunday down. I don’t like her being cooped up in the pushchair. Even close by, it still feels too far away. I didn’t realise becoming a parent would be this emotionally challenging.
“I’m going to wash these,” Charlotte tells us, carrying a huge pile of new clothes out of my room. Apparently, you have to wash baby clothes before putting them on the baby. It made me panic because I can’t remember Mum washing anything before we started putting clothes on Sunday. Even the clothes Uncle Mason brought to the hospital were put on her straight out of the packaging.
I step out of my room, walking over to the front door. Opening it, I’m startled to find the chick from next door. She looks sexy as hell in her denim skirt and white tank top. I almost pout when I find she’s wearing a bra. I wouldn’t complain if she decided to not wear one ever again when I’m around.
When she doesn’t say anything, I frown. “Can I help you?”
She continues to stare at Sunday, and I become worried. Maybe she’s a baby snatcher. I pull Sunday away a little.
“Look, if you’re here to take my baby or ignore me again, you can leave,” I tell her when she starts to look
up, her eyes on my mouth again. My cock stirs when she licks her lips. “Is there something you want, babe, or are you gonna stare all night?”
“I—I, um… sorry,” she says, looking ready to flee. She takes a step back, her face pale, and I watch in horror as the heel of her foot slips off the stop step. Holding Sunday with one arm, I reach out and grab her with my other, a tingle shooting through me where we touch.
“Watch it,” I warn, pulling her away from the stairs. It makes me frown, my own face growing pale when something occurs to me.
Sunday will be at an age soon enough when she’ll be crawling around and might do the same thing. Holy crap! I need to baby-proof that ASAP. And after listening to one of the staff at Mother Care talk about baby-proofing homes, I know I need to take this shit seriously. Who knew a toilet could be dangerous for a baby? And that wasn’t even the worst of it.
“Is there something you wanted?” I rush out, ready to hit the internet to see what I can use to make the stairs safer.
“I’m sorry, but can you speak slower?”
Trust me to be hot for the crazy chick. “What. Do. You. Want.”
Her shoulders relax and she smiles, taking my breath away. She’s fucking gorgeous normally, but when she smiles, she’s fucking breath-taking. “My, um, my grandpa…. He told me to come and get a number.”
“You want my number?”
“What? No!”
I grin when she turns bright red, her gaze focussing over my shoulder. Lily steps up behind me, peeping around me to the door, so I step aside, letting her stand next to me.
“Um, hi,” the chick from next door says, waving.
“Hi, I’m Lily.”
“I’m Bailey, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, interrupting. I ignore it when Lily slaps my stomach and face my neighbour. “Whose number do you want, if not mine?”
It’s not like I have time to date, but maybe once I’m settled with Sunday, I can get a babysitter and give her what she wants.
“I think you said which number do I want, but I can’t be sure. I think you mumbled the last bit.”
Aiden (A Next Generation Carter Brother Novel Book 2) Page 5
