Tempt Thy Neighbor (Roommate Romps)

by Teagan Hunter

  Tempt Thy Neighbor

  Teagan Hunter

  Copyright © 2021 by Teagan Hunter

  All rights reserved. For your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you did not purchase this book, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for not pirating and respecting the countless hours the author has put into this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at teagan@teaganhunterwrites.com.

  Editing by Editing by C. Marie

  Proofreading by Judy’s Proofreading & Julia Griffis

  Cover Image: Adobe Photos

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Holland

  2. Sutton

  3. Holland

  4. Sutton

  5. Holland

  6. Sutton

  7. Holland

  8. Sutton

  9. Holland

  10. Sutton

  11. Holland

  12. Sutton

  13. Holland

  14. Sutton

  15. Holland

  16. Sutton

  17. Holland

  18. Sutton

  19. Holland

  20. Sutton

  Epilogue

  LOATHE THY NEIGHBOR PREVIEW

  Other Titles by Teagan Hunter

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  To coffee.

  Couldn’t have done it without you.

  Literally.

  Prologue

  Holland

  “I quit.”

  There’s a quiver to my voice, and my face is burning. There’s a tingle beginning at the back of my neck, my mouth growing dryer by the second.

  Holy crap. I did it.

  “Excuse me?”

  My father’s voice booms through his oversized office, and I’m betting if we were in a smaller space, the windows would have rattled. That’s how loud he is. There’s no way others in the office can’t hear him, making this the second time this morning he’s yelled at me in front of employees.

  And that is exactly why I’m putting my foot down and quitting the job I’ve hated for years.

  I push my shoulders back, lifting my chin and meeting his angry stare with a strong one of my own. “I quit.”

  He huffs, resuming his pacing, tossing me an irritated glance. “You can’t quit, Holland.”

  “I just did, Dad.”

  He hates it when I call him Dad at work, but as of thirty seconds ago, I no longer work here. I can call him whatever I please, and to be honest, right now I want to call him an asshole because that’s what he’s being.

  I was late this morning for the first time since I began working for him right out of college. It wasn’t like I overslept or was being lazy. I had a blown tire and was stuck on the side of the highway for over an hour while every Tom, Dick, and douchebag flew past me doing eighty, offering dust instead of help.

  By the time I got ahold of my brother and he walked me through how to change my tire, I was late.

  It didn’t matter that I left my apartment early to get to work early like I do every day. It didn’t matter that this was the first time in the history of working for my father that I’d been late. All he cared about was that I wasn’t there.

  He stops pacing, resting his hands on top of his desk, staring at me as I sit across from him, hands folded together in my lap. “Well, I don’t accept it.”

  I want to laugh. Of course he doesn’t accept it. Without me, he’d fall apart, and he knows it.

  “Doesn’t matter if you accept it or not. I don’t need your permission to quit.”

  His face is turning redder by the second. “Holland…”

  I hold my hand up and stand. “No. I’ve made my decision. I—”

  “A silly, in-the-moment decision you will regret if you don’t take a second to think about it.”

  This moment right here tells me I won’t.

  If I stay, he’ll think this behavior is okay.

  If I stay, he’ll just do this again.

  If I stay, I’ll still be unhappy.

  I can’t stay.

  I know it, and deep down he knows it too.

  I wasn’t supposed to be his assistant this long, and it’s unfair to both of us if I don’t move on and do something more fulfilling with my life.

  He’ll see.

  He sees the resolution in my eyes and shakes his head, shoving off his desk and gathering up a stack of papers to keep his hands busy. “I think it’s best you clear your desk out today, then.”

  “Dad, I—”

  “Clear it out. I’ll alert security and you’ll have an escort out.”

  I didn’t intend to leave him hanging and was going to stay to help him find a replacement. But now? Security?

  Yeah, I’m definitely done.

  “Security won’t be necessary.”

  “It’s company policy, Ms. Evans.”

  I hate the way he calls me that. Like I’m nobody to him.

  “Fine,” I bite out, shuffling around the chair, a new purpose in my step as I stride to his office door.

  I quietly make my way down to the supply room and grab a discarded box nobody will miss. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I make my way back to my desk. Can see their concern. Can hear their unasked questions.

  Without any other fanfare, I collect all my personal items, set all calls to be forwarded directly to my father, and head for the front of the building. Security meets me halfway there, and I ignore the frowns lining their faces.

  There’s no goodbye party. No Thank you from my father for my years of service.

  It’s just…done.

  There’s this odd sense of relief and dread as I hop into my car and make the drive back to my apartment in a haze, my mind fully on the shitshow of a morning I’ve had.

  Who knew when I got up this morning that my life would change so much in just a few short hours?

  Lost in my thoughts, I don’t register the car I park next to.

  I don’t register the low music coming from inside my apartment as I slip the key into the lock.

  And I don’t register the shoes sitting by the door as I push it closed.

  Which is probably why I’m caught unawares when I walk into the living room to find my boyfriend of two months drilling my roommate on the couch.

  Today fucking sucks.

  1

  Holland

  I can’t remember a time I had a worse night of sleep.

  It could have been when I was ten and sick with the flu. Or maybe when my college boyfriend broke up with me and I spent the entire night hugging the toilet because I believed mixing vodka and whiskey would make my heartache go away.

  Either way, I swear I didn’t sleep more than two hours.

  With a defeated sigh, I push myself up into a sitting position, earning a low growl from Morris, a white, fluffy cat who’s mistaken my legs as his new bed. Annoyed with me, he saunters away and slips past the door I left cracked last night. Normally I’d sleep with it shut, but it was too hot and the last thing I wanted to do was bother my host with my discomfort.


  Besides, it’s not my brother’s fault I’m sleeping on the floor of his spare bedroom. That fault belongs to my ex-roommate and ex-boyfriend, who are apparently in love.

  Whatever. It’s not like I was in love with him or anything.

  Besides, my lease was up in a few months and I wasn’t even sure if I was going to stay anyway. So really, they did me a favor.

  I rub at my aching eyes, then drag my hands through my hair. My body is hurting and my head is throbbing. Looks like today is going to be just as awful as the last two weeks have been.

  My phone screen lights up, and I catch it out of the corner of my eye.

  I don’t bother reaching for it. I can see from here it’s my father calling yet again.

  This is the third time he’s called, and it’s only seven AM.

  My screen goes black, then lights up again not thirty seconds later.

  This time it’s not a call.

  He left a voicemail.

  I snag my phone and tap the notification.

  I don’t have to bring it up to my ear. My father’s a loud talker.

  “This is getting ridiculous, Holland Marie.” Oh shit. He middle-named me. “You won’t last anywhere but at Evans Inc. We both know that. Just knock off your childish antics and come back.”

  He hangs up.

  No Love you. No Goodbye.

  Just dead air.

  I’d be annoyed if I wasn’t completely used to it.

  Having worked as my father’s assistant for the last four years, this is nothing new.

  What is new is his total lack of faith in me.

  It’s a known fact in our family that I’m Dad’s favorite child and my brother, Dean, is Mom’s. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl, his little shadow. I was the one who wanted to sit and listen to him talk about projections and the latest trends. I was the one who shared the morning paper with him, poring over the business section before he did so I could hold a conversation with him.

  We’ve always been two peas in a pod, career-driven and hungry for more.

  It’s why it sucks so much he’s taken such advantage of me over the past few years. I always thought he was going to be there to have my back, to be my biggest cheerleader.

  But he stopped being that when he realized he needed me more than I ever needed him.

  “Wow. Your dad is an asshole.”

  I look up to find my older—only by fifteen months—brother standing in the doorway, two coffee cups in hand.

  “You heard that, huh?”

  He nods. “Not my first time either. It’s the same line he used on me when I told him I’d rather go into education than work at Evans Inc.” There’s a faraway look in his eyes, and I’m sure he’s reflecting on how strained his relationship has been with our father over the years because of that decision. He gives his head a shake, pushing away what I’m sure are all the fights they’ve had rolling through his mind, and holds a mug out to me. “Coffee?”

  “Fuck yes.”

  He pushes off the doorjamb and pads into the room. He hands me what I know is a steaming cup of joe with a splash of milk and sprinkle of cinnamon before taking a seat next to me.

  He groans, trying to get comfortable. Before I can say anything, he turns his bright green eyes on me, glaring. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear any comments about how old I’m getting.”

  “I didn’t even say anything.” I take a sip of my coffee and grin at him over the rim. “Yet.”

  “You’re not much younger than me.”

  “Compared to you, I’m a spring chicken.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Barely. God, how the hell are you sleeping on this wretched air mattress? There’s a perfectly good couch in the living room, you know.”

  I shrug. “It’s not that bad.”

  That’s a lie and we both know it, but I already feel like a burden as it is. I’d rather be tucked away in here where it’s not obvious to everyone that my life is in shambles.

  We sit in silence for a few beats, enjoying our coffees.

  It’s been so long since I’ve lived with my brother, I almost forgot how much I love having him around.

  Dean was the smart one out of us. From the moment our dad started his company, all he talked about was how he wanted us kids to follow in his footsteps and make it a family business.

  He paid for college as long as we got business degrees—because they’re so versatile—with the expectation that we’d work for him at Evans Inc., helping him build his empire. Dean didn’t last long and he told Dad to shove it, shifting gears toward what he was passionate about—teaching.

  I’ve never seen him happier than he is now—though I’m sure his girlfriend, River, has a lot to do with that—and I regret that it’s taken me this long to join him in his rebellion like he’s been begging me to for years.

  Our family won the lottery when I was twelve. Literally.

  Before then, we were fine people. We lived paycheck to paycheck, but we were happy. We were in the thick of shit together.

  Then the money rolled in, and everything changed.

  All our mother worries about is the next big social event, and all our dad cares about is how deep his pockets can go.

  It’s sad, really.

  “So, you wanna talk about it?” Dean asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

  “About your dad being an asshole?”

  He laughs. “He’s your father. You know the rules.”

  For as long as I can remember, he’s always been my dad, just like Mom has always been Dean’s mom.

  “Can’t say I feel like claiming him right now.”

  “Don’t blame you.”

  I return his glare from earlier. “This is all your fault, you know.”

  He lifts his brows. “How?”

  “If you hadn’t been riding my ass about quitting, I wouldn’t have been thinking about it. If I hadn’t been thinking about it, I wouldn’t have let those two words just tumble out of my mouth.”

  He grins. “Hey, if it got you here and away from that jackass, I’m not even sorry about it.” He winks at me. When I don’t return his smile, Dean blows out a breath. “I’m sorry, Holls. I know this is hard for you, but I really do think it’s for the best. You’ve been so…stagnant working there.”

  I want to tell him he doesn’t know what he’s talking about because he bailed years ago, but he’s not wrong.

  I have been stagnant.

  I’ve been living in this predictable existence for years, and what it really boils down to is that it’s nobody’s fault but my own. I’m the one who didn’t push for more. I’m the one who stepped into the supposedly temporary role of secretary when my father’s previous one went on maternity leave. I’m the one who sat there and continued to be ordered around when she never came back. I didn’t speak up and push for a better position, not even when I was itching to do so much more.

  I had my dad’s approval, and I was content with that.

  Until I wasn’t anymore.

  And even then I didn’t do a damn thing about it.

  There’s this small part of me that’s rolling the last few years through my head on a loop. Was it really that bad? Enough to give up the job security I had? I know I could waltz back into the building and get my job back with no hassle if I wanted to.

  But do I want to?

  “Oh shit—please tell me you’re not sitting here thinking of going back, Holland.”

  I quirk my brow, peeking over at him. “Do you want me to lie?”

  He shakes his head. “Dammit, kiddo.”

  “What? Can you really blame me? I mean, shit, Dean, I had excellent health insurance, four weeks’ paid vacation—not that I was ever really allowed to use it—and my 401K was building up quite nicely. Don’t even get me started on my salary. There’s no way I’m going to be able to find something as nice as what I had.”

  “Okay, sure, the benefits were great, but you just said yourself you had vacation time you weren’t allowed to use. You can
’t even take one day off from the job.”

  “I could take time off,” I argue. “I just chose not to.” Mostly because my dad would have given me that not mad, just disappointed look parents are so good at.

  “Right, and how many emails have you forwarded to him since you quit?”

  I bite my lip. Dammit. How does he know I’ve been doing that?

  “See?” He scoffs. “That’s fucked up. He shouldn’t be doing that to you.”

  “He’s not doing anything. I don’t have to send him the emails.”

  “Yes, you do.” He taps the side of his head. “Because he has you so twisted around up here thinking you need to bend over backward to help him and be this perfect daughter. You think you can’t disappoint him.”

  “Trust me, I’ve disappointed him plenty by leaving.”

  “And that’s the sad part of it all. The only thing you’re trying to do is make yourself happy, and he’s shitting on that. He’s your father—he’s supposed to support you, not drag you down even more.” He shakes his head again. “You can’t go back. No matter how alluring and easy it might seem, you can’t. Your mental health is worth way more than any of those benefits because at the end of your career, all you’re going to have is you.”

  He’s right.

  I know he’s right.

  But that doesn’t make this any easier.

  “Besides,” he adds, “it’ll be good for you to get away from that dreadful town.”

  “It’s not that awful, Dean.”

  He wrinkles his nose. “I beg to differ. Those stuck-up people? All those stuffy events Mom made you go to? Those horrible dates she set you up on?”

  Ugh. I don’t even want to be reminded of all the dates my mom has set me up on over the years. Especially not since I took a chance on the last guy she shoved my way. Look where that landed me.