Trouble Next Door (Sweet Fortuity Book 2)

by Rica Grayson

  Her bachelorette party was being held at a club, and we’d been looking forward to it for a little while now.

  I heard a knock on the door. Eva popped her head in. “Hey. Ready?”

  Eva’s long blonde hair was braided back, and she wore a short, sleek black dress. Its back was covered in thin lace, exposing a fair amount of skin. She was going to turn many heads tonight.

  She walked inside.

  “Yeah,” I replied closing the small white box. I placed it back in my drawer.

  “You’re gorgeous,” she said, her expression softening. She squeezed my hand.

  I felt good, and I hoped I looked good as much as I felt, but you never know.

  “Thanks, but have you even looked at yourself in the mirror?” I returned.

  She shook her head, smiling at me. “You don’t see yourself the way others do. No wonder Luke’s head over heels.”

  The statement was ridiculous. “No, he’s not.”

  “You can run away from it, but everyone sees it. I’m happy for you. You have him now.”

  I frowned, because that sounded like I was about to replace her, which was never going to happen.

  “I have you, too,” I told her.

  But she didn’t say anything else, and she pulled my hand towards the door. “Let’s knock ourselves out tonight.”

  We clinked our wineglasses together in cheers.

  I was feeling lot more mellow after my second glass.

  Sherry looked happy. It was nice seeing her that way. Seeing her heartbroken put a damper on our moods.

  Before the evening came to a close, we decided to hit the dance floor.

  “Are you sure that’s a smart idea?” Sherry asked me.

  I frowned. “Why can’t I dance?”

  “Have you seen what you’re wearing?”

  “Of course. I love it.”

  “Luke,” was all she said, and the mention of his name made me stop.

  I thought about it for a bit. But I’ll be damned if I let him dictate what I should be having fun doing. “I’m just going to dance. I’ll shoo everyone away,” I told her, waving a hand dismissively.

  She didn’t look that convinced, but she let it go.

  It was easy to get caught up with the energy of the music, and the people that were swept up in it. The music was upbeat, and I danced along.

  After several songs, I felt someone tap my shoulder.

  Paul.

  I’d dated him around three years ago. He tried to push sex a lot, and at that time, I felt no spark.

  “Sierra,” he said, flashing his teeth in a smile, his voice raised so he could be heard over the music. “You look good.”

  He gave me a once-over before his eyes settled on my breasts, not looking up any higher.

  I shifted away to put space between us.

  “Oh, hi. Thanks,” I said politely, but I was moving away, so I could find someone to use as a barrier between us. I moved closer to Kate.

  He kept coming closer.

  I put a hand up to stop him, but he was persistent. It was starting to piss me off.

  “Paul—”

  It was a blur, because the next thing I knew, Luke was on him.

  Paul flew back, groaning.

  My eyes widened in surprise.

  What just happened?

  “What’s going on?” Kate asked loudly over the music.

  “I don’t know. Paul was being pushy, and then…”

  Luke scanned around the crowd, and then his eyes met mine, holding them captive. He stalked towards me, his eyes glinting dangerously.

  I felt like I was rooted to the spot as I watched him draw closer.

  He stopped a foot before me.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, confused. Everything happened so fast.

  “I didn’t know you were going to be here,” he said, a little out of breath. “I was having a drink with a friend. Then I see you and that guy, and I fucking lost it.”

  “It’s Sherr’s bachelorette party. She’s getting married, silly.”

  It seemed to appease him a bit.

  “He put his hands on you,” he said, like he wanted to punch someone again.

  I rubbed a hand over his shoulder, trying to soothe.

  “I was doing fine, he didn’t come until just now.”

  The next thing I knew, his arm was wrapped around me, pressing me towards him in a hug.

  “Coming home soon?” he asked in my ear. I could feel his warm breath on my neck.

  I suppose I could go home. The night had been coming to a close, and I was tired anyway.

  “I’ll go tell my friends first,” I replied.

  I told Eva what had happened, and I hugged Sherry, passing along my present—a hand-crafted ruby necklace I’d found when I walked past the shops last week.

  Sherry was already pushing me away with a smile. “Go! Good luck with him.”

  When I met up with him outside, his shoulders were tense, his jaw set. He opened my door for me, but still he didn’t say anything.

  Weird.

  He went back to the other side, and he started to drive.

  The radio was playing faintly in the background. I heard the soothing voice of the radio host, before the sound of drums started to play.

  I bent over and switched the station, settling on one that wasn’t too upbeat.

  He gave me a look as a woman’s sultry voice started singing about broken hearts.

  He flipped the station without warning.

  The sound of an electric guitar playing started to fill the car.

  I managed to bear the sound for approximately three point five seconds before I flipped it back, softly singing along with the track about a man having a new lover.

  He shut the radio off.

  The car was filled with silence, the tension thick in the air.

  “Sierra,” he said, starting to lose patience. “This is my car.”

  I rolled my window down, looking out as I said, “I liked it better when you called me sweetheart.”

  The cool wind let my hair fly all over as I rested my chin on the flat of my hand.

  And just like many things in life, it was all over too soon.

  The car stopped.

  He was still quiet by the time we walked up the apartment stairs.

  It was starting to bother me. Not one to keep my mouth shut, just before we reached our level, I ran a couple of steps up and stopped directly in front of him, blocking his way.

  He stopped, looking at me questioningly.

  “Why are you mad at me?” I demanded, genuinely confused. I lifted my chin up defiantly and added, “I did nothing wrong.”

  His brows knit. “I’m not mad at you.”

  Which only served to confuse me more.

  “Then why won’t you talk to me?”

  “We’re talking,” he pointed out the obvious.

  Fine. If he didn’t feel like talking, neither did I.

  “Ugh. You’re impossible.”

  I turned around, climbing up the stairs quickly.

  A hand on my elbow stopped me. I stopped and turned to face him, waiting for him to say something.

  He paused, frowning as if he didn’t quite know how to explain.

  “I’m not mad at you. I just… Fuck, I’m not doing this right.” Frustration rang clear in his voice.

  “When he put his hands on you…” He stopped again, before exhaling a sharp breath. “I didn’t expect to feel that way, Sierra. Not that strongly.”

  I gaped.

  I thought maybe I’d said something that set him off.

  And with the way it sounded—warm and affectionate—the combination was heady.

  Like an idiot, all I could say was, “Oh.”

  The discovery that he was jealous caught me off-guard. What was I supposed to do with that?

  But when I moved aside, he made no move towards his door.

  So I went upstairs anyway. I pushed my door open, and I walked into my ap
artment.

  To my surprise, he followed me inside.

  He was impossible to ignore. Suddenly, my apartment felt smaller than it was, the atmosphere somewhat charged.

  “Umm. Luke? What are you doing?”

  I watched as he shrugged off his jacket, draping it on a chair. Okay, then. He was getting himself settled inside.

  This looked like it was going to be a long night. I needed a glass of water.

  He followed me to the kitchen and watched as I poured cold water into my glass.

  “Water?” I offered, my back towards the fridge, holding the glass up.

  As if it could be mistaken for anything else, stupid.

  He shook his head, just watching me.

  I felt a shiver run through me.

  Then his eyes focused on something behind me, and he froze. He walked closer, recognition crossing his expression.

  I knew what he saw. Because belatedly, I realized his number was still there. Which meant he saw my devil-horn magnet.

  His lips quirked, clearly amused. “Nice magnet.”

  I wanted to slap a hand over my forehead. I’d forgotten to remove his number, even though I already had it on my phone.

  “Where did you get it from?” he asked, but his eyes were on me. He was too close.

  “You know, I don’t even remember. I think I bought it on eBay, but I’m not entirely…”

  His eyes slid down to where my dress parted to cover my breasts. His knuckles grazed my shoulder down to my arm.

  He moved forward, and I took a step back, until I felt my back hit the cool fridge.

  His arms went up, effectively trapping me.

  “I like this dress.”

  “Luke—”

  Then his expression hardened. “I wasn’t there for long, but everyone’s eyes were on you tonight. Including that fucker’s.”

  I covered his mouth with a hand, stopping him. “Don’t. He doesn’t matter.”

  “Damn right,” he spoke against my hand. He pulled it away, rubbing his thumb on my pulse. I moaned.

  What was wrong with me? I felt like I was melting just from his touch.

  It was as if the sound made him snap.

  His mouth was on me, hard. Like he needed it.

  I did too.

  His tongue tangled with mine. Clashing, taking, soothing.

  It was surrender, and yet it was also claim.

  It was impossible to resist him. He overwhelmed all my senses, alighting every nerve I had.

  My nipples stood at attention. The zing shot straight down, down, until liquid heat gathered between my legs.

  A small part of my mind registered magnets getting shoved aside, some probably dropping on the ground.

  I didn’t care. My hand was freed from his grip and I tugged at his hair, needing him closer.

  He indulged me. He kissed me deeper, like his life depended on it.

  I kissed him back.

  We broke apart too soon, and I tried to recover my breath.

  Wow.

  That was… Things just sort of got out of hand.

  “I didn’t mean to go that far,” he said, his voice no longer the steady calm that I usually seemed to get from him.

  He kissed me quickly, but no less deep.

  “Night, Sierra,” he said, but he didn’t move, he just continued to hold me, as if he was reluctant to let me go.

  Then he did, and soon after, he was gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Unwelcome Visitor

  I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked different.

  More content, somehow.

  I pinched my cheeks. Did last night really happen? Could I have dreamed it?

  I went to the kitchen to pour a glass of milk when I stepped on something. I bent down to pick it up, and saw the others scattered on the ground. My fridge magnets. Okay, not a dream.

  We kissed.

  It was a pretty damn good one. The all-consuming kind. The kind that made me forget everything else but us. Never mind that he was Luke Diaz. Never mind that he was my neighbor.

  That kind of desire was unnerving, because I’ve never felt that way about anyone else.

  A crush. This was just a crush.

  A moment when I’d lost myself. It would pass.

  “Hey, Sylvia. Need help?” I offered.

  Sylvia lived on the level below Pat, along with her husband and two children. She was carrying two bags of groceries up to her door.

  “Morning, Sierra. I’m fine,” she said cheerfully, waving me away.

  “By the way…” She gave me a smile, and her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Interesting, the conversations one hears here at night.”

  “What conversation?”

  “The walls are thin,” she said in a sing-song voice, before shutting the door.

  It began to sink in as I walked down the steps.

  I didn’t only have one neighbor to worry about. The whole building was probably plotting our relationship.

  I shuddered at the thought.

  I went to Matilda’s Salon. In my mind I liked to call it The Gossip Corner. But it was the very best place to pamper yourself, and I wanted nothing less, because today, I was buying my best friend a present. Her birthday was coming in two weeks.

  They had a jasmine rice and coconut scrub that Eva swore by.

  The salon had already started to set up Christmas decorations, even though it was still November. A wreath hung on the door, and some festive lights were draped all over the walls.

  “Early Christmas?” I asked Matilda as I lined up to pay for the body wash.

  “It will be a month in around two and a half weeks. A month goes by fast,” she told me.

  The salon already had a couple of customers this early. Matilda’s daughter Amara was playing with a tablet on the chair close to the entrance and eating ice cream. Someone’s head was in the hood dryer, reading a newspaper wide open.

  The newspaper dropped down almost immediately to her lap, revealing her face.

  “Sierra?” the woman asked, surprised.

  “Hey, Sally,” I greeted one of Matilda’s regulars.

  “I saw you and Abe’s son the other day. You looked awfully close. Are you together?” she asked curiously.

  I had to admire how she asked me the question straight up with no compunction.

  I thought about her question. Were we? After last night… But then he just left after.

  “I don’t know,” I replied, feeling a little uncomfortable at the question.

  “It seems that boy is into you. Why won’t you give him a chance?” she asked me sympathetically.

  What is it with people today?

  And why did she make it sound like it was my fault?

  Amara cried. She’d dropped her ice cream. When Matilda picked her up, she wailed even louder.

  That was when the bells chimed. A woman around her mid-forties stepped in. Her wavy hair was long and flowing, a platinum blonde that reached the middle of her back.

  She stepped in, her chin tipped up. She was looking directly at Sally. “What did you say? Who’s dating my nephew, Luke?”

  “Eh? Abe’s son? I think he likes our Sierra,” she replied, tilting her head towards me.

  Oh crap.

  The woman who declared herself Luke’s aunt turned her head towards me and looked me over, her gaze assessing, before she exhaled a disapproving sigh. Then her eyes went back to the people in the salon.

  “I don’t want to go here anymore,” she said, looking at the place in disgust. She turned around to leave.

  Uh-oh.

  I saw she was about to step on ice cream and tried to warn her, “Wait—”

  I accidentally tugged on her hair, when I’d just meant to stop her. To my surprise, the wavy platinum blonde wig slid off…

  Revealing her very green hair.

  I gaped.

  “How dare you!” she screeched.

  Oh, hell.

  I took a couple of steps back. I was
n’t in the mood for a catfight, and by the looks of it, she wasn’t even worth it.

  Matilda stepped forward. “We can fix that for you, if you can somehow manage to fit it within your standards.”

  But she narrowed her eyes as she looked at us, and then at the other customers.

  “I wouldn’t do my hair here. Not if you paid me,” she sneered. She stormed off without another word.

  I was determined not to let the incident affect me.

  So his aunt didn’t like me. Big deal.

  She didn’t even know me.

  I tried to put it out of my mind. There was no use worrying about things that were out of my control.

  By dinner time, I tried to make pasta bake, one of my comfort foods.

  Except I made a huge mistake, having left something else inside the oven as I turned it on for a pre-heat.

  I knocked on Luke’s door hard, carrying a plastic bag on an arm.

  Please be here.

  He opened the door a mere minute later, looking a little surprised to see me.

  “Hi. I need a favor,” I told him a little hesitantly, scratching a cheek. I wasn’t used to asking him favors, but… Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  He opened the door wider, letting me in.

  “I’m listening,” he said, curiosity alighting his expression.

  “Can I please use your kitchen?” I blurted out.

  He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it. His brows furrowed in confusion.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Why is your face like that?”

  “Sweetheart, I’m worried about my kitchen.”

  “Oh for God’s sake, I’m not going to burn things.” I considered what I was making, and then added as an afterthought, “Much.”

  He frowned, then asked suspiciously, “What’s wrong with your kitchen?”

  I looked down at his carpet as if the swirly design was interesting. “I, ah, I had a little disaster.”

  “How much is a little?”

  “I might’ve left a disposable plate in the oven,” I murmured.

  “Plastic?”

  I nodded once.

  “Fuck.” Apt. “Did you get it off? Windows open?”

  “I managed to scrape it off. It took half an hour.”

  I rubbed my fingers with my thumb. They were still store from the scraping I did. The plastic hardened so fast and stuck to the oven rack like you wouldn’t believe.