Number Neighbors

by Hart, Emma

  I’m Too Old For This

  “No, that’s the wrong screw. You know that.”

  Grandma Jen frowned and looked at the screw. “No. It’s the right size. I measured it.”

  “You measured it in inches,” I told her, tapping the tape measure. “They’re clearly measured in millimeters.” I leaned over and grabbed the correct screw for the part of the outdoor sofa I was putting together, then picked up the screwdriver before she did something stupid like poke out her own eye.

  “I don’t know why you invited me over. All you’ve done is whine like a little bitch.”

  I glared at her. “Actually, I didn’t invite you. You showed up, remember?”

  Grandma tilted her head to the side. “So I did. I really should call first.”

  “I agree,” I muttered, reaching for the next piece of sofa.

  Thank God it was hot out today. The last thing I needed was Grandma inside my house while I was trying to build my new outdoor furniture.

  I’d only waited six weeks for the damn sofa set to be delivered. In hindsight, I wish I’d had to wait a little more since she was here, apparently helping me.

  She and I had very different definitions of the word ‘helping.’

  Spoiler alert: mine was the correct one.

  “Can you pass the screws please?”

  “Which ones?”

  “Never mind.” I crawled across the grass to the bit of cardboard where the screws were sitting and grabbed the two I needed. I put one in my mouth between my teeth so I didn’t lose it and crawled back over.

  “That’s not the sight I was expecting when I took the rubbish out.”

  I froze at the sound of Isaac’s voice. Mostly because I was wearing a dress and there was every chance he’d just seen right up it.

  Goddamn it. I wasn’t even wearing my good panties.

  Grandma’s head snapped around. “What’s rubbish?”

  I bit my lower lip so I didn’t laugh, but I sat down next to the sofa and looked over the fence at Isaac.

  He held up the trash bag by way of an answer.

  “That’s trash,” Grandma said, a very teenage-like tone of ‘duh’ in her voice.

  “Don’t,” I said quickly. “She’s even more stubborn than I am.”

  “I think you mean strong-willed,” Grandma replied, shooting me a look that told me to be quiet. “Who are you?” she directed at Isaac.

  “Isaac Cooper, ma’am. Hannah’s neighbor.”

  “Well I assumed as much. Why else would you be taking trash out if you didn’t live there?”

  “Be nice,” I muttered to her, picking up the screwdriver.

  “That’s an excellent point.” The sound of the bag being dropped into a metal trash can punctuated his words. “What are you doing over there?”

  “Building a shuttle so we can beat NASA and that electric car guy to the moon,” Grandma replied. “What does it look like we’re doing, child?”

  “Grandma! Stop being rude,” I scolded her.

  She scoffed. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

  Another excellent point from the crazy lady in lime green leggings.

  Something my grandmother should never, ever wear again, for the record. I was all for personal expression, but not when scarred the general public.

  Or me.

  Mostly me.

  “I’m building a new sofa for the back porch,” I replied, looking over at Isaac. “Or trying to. My elf isn’t very helpful.”

  “I heard that,” Grandma said, reaching for her tumbler full of mojito that she swore was just lemon cordial.

  She was fooling nobody.

  Also, it was eleven in the morning. I probably should have taken that off her already. Where did she even get the mojito?

  “Don’t you have a drill?” Isaac asked, leaning right over the fence and surveying the mess of my grass. “That’s gonna take you forever with a screwdriver and an allen key.”

  “I don’t know what an allen key is.”

  He chuckled. “Wait there. I’ll get my toolbox and help you.”

  “Aren’t you working today?” I yelled after him.

  “Nope! It’s your lucky day!”

  I blew out a long breath.

  I doubted that very much.

  “Who is he?” Grandma asked. “He looks like the hero in our new book we’re reading. Seducing the Duke.”

  “Seducing the Duke? Are you all bored of BDSM novels now?” I tightened the screw I’d been working on. “That sounds awfully historical.”

  Grandma sighed. “Evelyn found this stupid reading challenge on the internet. Pin something?”

  “Pinterest.”

  “I don’t care, dear.”

  Of course she didn’t. “All right. Carry on.”

  “Anyway, she brought it in, and Kathleen thought it was a wonderful idea! Anyway, Eve had her grandson print it out, then we blindfolded Lil and made her choose one.”

  “Oh, Jesus.”

  “No, dear, he wasn’t around to help me, or he’d have burned the damn thing.”

  “So that’s how you’re reading a book that isn’t fully kinky.”

  “Mm. It’s a perfectly good story, don’t get me wrong, but I feel like she’d seduce him a lot faster if she used her stockings to tie the duke to the bed.”

  Just at that moment, Isaac arrived. “I’m not even going to ask why you’re tying a duke to a bed with stockings.”

  “Book club,” I explained. “Grandma and her friends have a weekly book club. They like to read… uh…”

  “Kinky books!” she said brightly with a big old smile. “We read sex books!”

  That was one way to put it. Not the way I was going for, but okay.

  “Interesting,” Isaac said, sitting down near me and picking up the instructions.

  “You look like the hero in the book we’re reading now,” she went on, oblivious to everything else. “It’s a bit vanilla for my tastes, but I’ve read worse.”

  “You read the obituaries for fun, Grandma. Of course you’ve read worse.”

  Isaac raised an eyebrow.

  “I need to check the dead people out of my phonebook.”

  “You don’t have a phonebook! You don’t have any friends outside Lil, Evelyn, and Kathleen.”

  Grandma tapped her finger against her lips. “You know, I’m not even sure I like those three most days.”

  I rubbed my temples. “There we go, then.”

  “I only check the obituaries so I know when my time is up. It’s coming, you know.”

  “I’m sure it is,” I said dryly, then looked at Isaac. “Will your drill work?”

  “Yep. This won’t take long to put together.”

  I liked his confidence. God only knew I’d spent an hour on it already and not gotten very far at all.

  I handed him the things he needed while he wasted absolutely no time putting everything together.

  He was right. The drill really worked.

  Within half an hour, the sofas were built, and Grandma had already taken occupation of the two-seater one. She’d swapped her mojito for a cup of coffee and was currently eating her way through my last packet of Doritos.

  And leaving orange dust all over my new, cream cushions, because she was apparently five years old.

  “So, Isaac, what do you do?” Grandma asked, licking her fingers.

  “I’m a vet,” he replied, cradling his own mug, but his was tea and not coffee.

  “Oh. Does that mean you’re a doctor?”

  “For animals.”

  “Damn it.”

  He was smart, I’d give him that. Quick, too.

  “Are you busy tomorrow night?” Grandma asked. “I’ve taken up a new art class at the local college and I think you’d be a perfect fit.”

  I had a bad feeling about this. Why did I have a bad feeling about this? Oh, probably because it was Grandma, and nothing good came from her little ideas.

  Isaac glanced at me. “I’m not r
eally an arty kind of person.”

  “Oh, you wouldn’t need to paint, dear. You’d be the model. It’s a nude art class!”

  And that’d be the reason for the bad feeling.

  Grandma leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “We paint naked men!”

  Oh, Jesus.

  “Oh. Well, I’m very flattered,” Isaac said. “But I do have plans tomorrow night.”

  She frowned. “Doing what? What are you doing?”

  “With me,” I said quickly. “He has plans with me.”

  Why did I say that? Why the hell did I say that? What was wrong with me?

  Grandma looked as shocked as I felt. “What’s he doing with you?”

  “Dinner,” Isaac said. “I helped her out with the kitten and she’s thanking me by buying me dinner.”

  I was?

  “Is it a date?” Grandma asked, looking between us. “Because I have a list of people who I think would be suitable for her and you’re not on it.”

  “Grandma! How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t need you to play matchmaker for me!” I slammed my hand against the sofa. “Stop it!”

  Isaac grinned lopsidedly. “It’s a date if she wants it to be. I wouldn’t say no.”

  I blushed. I was not going to discuss this in front of my grandmother. She was a menace as it was—she didn’t need to have her nose any deeper into my business.

  Seriously. If she got any deeper, she’d come out in the middle of the Chinese government building.

  They could keep her, to be perfectly honest.

  I’d live a few more years if they did.

  “It’s not a date,” I said firmly. “Just me being a good person.”

  Grandma snorted. “That’ll be the day.”

  I glared at her as she stood and grabbed her oversized electric blue purse from the floor.

  “Think about it,” she said to Isaac. “There’s a nice young woman at the art class. You’d like her.” Grandma winked and left without bothering to say goodbye to me.

  As usual.

  “Don’t listen to her,” I said the moment she left. “That nice young woman is probably at least fifty.”

  Isaac laughed, putting his mug on the table. “I have no intentions of being a model for a pensioner’s nude art class. Or any art class.”

  “Reassuring. The last thing I need is to go to my grandmother’s house for dinner and see a dreadfully drawn naked image of you hanging over the dining table.”

  “Would she do that?”

  “The woman reads BDSM fiction. What do you think?”

  “Fair point.” He grinned. “So, about dinner tomorrow night.”

  I groaned, getting up and collecting our empty mugs from the table. “Don’t. I don’t know why I said that. It just came out.”

  “It’s your subconscious. You know you want to go out with me.”

  “You’re super cocky today, do you know that?” I shot him a look over my shoulder and walked inside to the kitchen.

  He followed me. “Come on. One dinner. That’s not going to kill you, is it?”

  “I don’t know. Are you cooking?”

  “It’s supposed to be your treat, remember?”

  “Hey, I didn’t agree to that. You said it.” I put the mugs into the sink and turned around.

  He was right in front of me—almost as close as he’d been last night right before he kissed me.

  I swallowed, leaning back against the counter as far as I possibly could to put some distance between us. God only knew my heart was already beating a little faster than before just from him being so close.

  “Have dinner with me. We don’t have to go out anywhere if you’re worried about being seen with me.”

  I folded my arms over my chest. “Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about. Have you met the people in this town? They’re all gossips. We’d be married by next week.”

  “So we’ll eat in.”

  “Why are you so determined to have dinner with me?”

  He sighed and held out his hands. “I’m attracted to you, Hannah, I told you that. I have been for a long time. I’m asking you to have dinner with me, not suit up and take over New York City.”

  I paused for dramatic effect. “I might be more excited about putting on a ninja outfit and taking over a city to be honest.”

  “How about we do dinner first, then plot our takeover of various cities around the world?”

  “I have always wanted to go to London. Can you show me around?”

  He smirked. “No. I’ve never been to London.”

  “But you’re British.”

  “Well observed, love,” he said dryly. “You do know there’s more to England, and indeed the United Kingdom, than just London, don’t you?”

  I blew out a long breath and waved my hand. “Of course I do!”

  He looked at me as if he didn’t believe me at all. “Well? Dinner?”

  “What kind of dinner are we talking? Homemade? Takeout?”

  “Whichever you want.”

  “Can you cook?”

  “I hope so, or I’ve been surviving on thin air for the last twenty-eight years.”

  “Funny,” I drawled. “Who’s in charge of the food?”

  He pointed at me. “You. You owe me.”

  “So much for helping me with Lucifer out of the goodness of your heart.” I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Then it’s takeout.”

  Isaac leaned a hip against the island. “Why? Can’t you cook?”

  “I can cook,” I replied. “I make a very good ramen noodle with bread and butter on the side.”

  His lips twitched as he fought back a laugh. “Takeout it is, then. My place or yours?”

  “Do you think I should leave Lucifer alone right now?”

  “Takeout at yours. Seven?”

  “Make it seven-thirty, and there are rules, Isaac. You’re not just waltzing in here with… with that accent and, well, that.” I motioned to his body, then to his face. “It’s not fair on the rest of us who were made when God was in a bad mood.”

  He rubbed at his mouth. “Okay, lay the rules on me.”

  “No sexting. No talking about sexting. And no sex.”

  “You’re just taking all the fun out of it.”

  “I mean it. Those are the rules if you want to have dinner with me.”

  He took a deep breath and sighed it right back out. “Fine. I’ll follow your rules—this time.” He stepped toward me and tapped me on the tip of my nose. “You’re bloody lucky you’re cute.”

  Cute? Cute? Cute?

  I followed him out of the kitchen. “Cute? I am a fully-grown woman, not a baby sloth!”

  “Just as well. Sloths aren’t my favorite.” He winked at me and opened the door. “I’ll go grab my tools. My mum is about to Skype me, if she’s finally figured out how to log in to the damn app on her iPad. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Mum.

  Ugh, that was so sexy.

  Weirdly.

  What was wrong with me?

  CHAPTER EIGHT – HANNAH

  Willpower Is Not My Strong Suit

  Immy tossed me a bag full of yarn that needed to be put correctly on the shelves. I caught it deftly and set it on the floor so I could untie the top and get to it.

  “I help.” Maya stuck her hand in the bag and grabbed a ball before I could say a word.

  Immy’s eyes widened. “Maya! Did you wash your hands before you touched that?”

  Maya nodded her head firmly. “I do it two times. See? All cean.” She held up both hands, dropping the yarn to the floor, and wiggled her fingers.

  “Okay, you can help. But make sure you get the colors in the right places and ask Hannah if you can’t reach.”

  How did I end up with the kid? This wasn’t in my job description. I was gonna need a raise if I had to watch my cousin’s boyfriend’s daughter.

  A big raise.

  Somehow, together, we managed to get all the yarn put away. Granted I had to move several balls to the rig
ht spots, but she was a bigger help than I thought she’d be.

  She slowed me down a bit, but hey.

  She was only four.

  After that, Immy settled her in the back room with a snack and some coloring and rejoined me in the front of the store. I took a box of acrylic paint from her and took it over to the paint stand while she grabbed another box. The store was half empty and in need of desperate restocking.

  I set right to it, ignoring her first elbow nudge. Her second one was a little hard, but the third one went right into my ribs and made me squeal. “What?”

  “Grandma said you’re having dinner with Isaac,” Immy said in a teasing tone. “Is that true?”

  With a sigh, I explained how it came about.

  “Ew! She told me she was going to a wine and paint place! She’s really drawing naked old men instead?”

  “How the hell did she get that past you? Immy, nobody around here does a wine and paint thing. I’m surprised you aren’t doing it yet.”

  She paused. “You’re right. Will you run it with me on a Thursday night?”

  “No! I have a life.”

  “You have a kitten and a neighbor you sext. I wouldn’t call that a life.”

  “And you have a kinky old lady living with you. What’s your point?”

  “I have no idea,” she mused. “Are you having a date with him though? Like more than just a neighborly dinner? I wanna know!”

  “Ugh, my God. It’s not a date. I know he kissed me but—”

  “He kissed you?” Immy squealed. She turned and grabbed hold of my arms, squeezing them in a death grip.

  “Please let go,” I squeaked out. “That hurts.”

  She darted back, releasing me from her claws. “Sorry. He kissed you?”

  “Yeah. He dropped Lucifer round and after we talked for a bit, he was going to leave, but didn’t. I went to go after him and he was still at my door, then he kissed me.”

  “Was it amazing? Do British people kiss differently to us? I bet they do it with style.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? It’s kissing, Imogen. It’s universal.”

  “I know, but does he kiss with a British accent?”

  I stared at her. “Are you high?”

  “I wish,” she muttered. “But does he?”

  “People don’t kiss in accents. It’s not like we’re all taught how to kiss based on where we live.”