Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 79(@200wpm)___ 63(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 79(@200wpm)___ 63(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)
“What… What are you doing out here?” I feel like I’ve taken a hit right to the center of my forehead with a two-by-four. I know it shouldn’t be my concern, but I can’t resist.
She glares at me for several moments before explaining very slowly and precisely like I’m a goddamn idiot. “Not like it’s any of your business, but I’m looking for Roger.”
Maybe I have lost my mind. “Roger?” I manage to roar past the lump in my throat. Oh, hell no. There’s no way I’m going to let some other asshole have her. She’s mine, or at least she will be once I get my head out of my ass and act like a normal human being.
“It still isn’t any of your concern, but Roger is my cat.” She rolls her golden eyes and huffs after slamming her hands down on her curvy hips.
One thought echoes around my mind on a continuous loop as her words register. There’s no other man and nothing standing between me and my baby doll. Except her age, but we’ll deal with that issue later. I stare at her in the darkness and realize she’s older than I first thought, at least early to mid-twenties. Still a little young for me but not illegal.
Relief cuts through me, and I take several deep breaths, attempting to get myself under control before I reply. Too bad, my efforts fail, and I end up roaring, “You still shouldn’t be out here in the middle of the night by yourself.” That’s sounds fucking reasonable to me. “Anything could happen to you.” Like your crazy neighbor kidnapping you and keeping you forever
“It’s not late, and this is the safest neighborhood in the safest town in Texas.” Her stunning eyes flash as she stands up to her full five-foot-nothing height and glares at me. Fuck me. I barely resist the urge to throw her gorgeous ass over my shoulder and rush home to hide her away. “And I hate to repeat myself, but what I do isn’t any of your concern.”
Oh, baby doll, I plan to make it my business. I open my mouth to inform her of my thoughts but close it without uttering a word. I’m losing ground with my girl, and I need to change tactics before I really piss her off. “It’s too cold to be out in that.” I point down at the thin t-shirt giving me a birds-eye view of her luscious curves.
“I didn’t have time to throw on a jacket.” She rolls her eyes dramatically while growling adorably. “Roger ran out the door when I opened it for my First Class Pizza delivery. While I’ve been here dealing with you, he’s out there running free. He could be anywhere by now.”
Here’s the perfect chance to spend time with her and to start repairing the damage my blown mind already created. “Why don’t I help you look for Roger?” I ask and hold out my hand. “I’m Will Riordan, your new neighbor.”
Chapter 2
Jazzy
Scrooge McJerk is smoking hot, and I know touching him would be a huge mistake, so I ignore his hand. “I don’t have time to deal with you right now.” Gramma Liz would roll over in her grave if she heard me being rude to our new neighbor. “I need to find my cat.” And forget all about my new neighbor.
I take off jogging in the direction I last saw my flighty cat heading. I can feel my new neighbor following right behind me. The hair on the back of my neck stands up while goosebumps break out all over my body from his nearness, and find myself fighting not to glance over at him.
“Roger!” I call out and look around Mrs. Jefferson’s large evergreen. When I don’t find him resting underneath hunting unsuspecting birds, I keep moving down the street. “Roger, I’m going to go back to the hard cat food you hate if you don’t come back right now.” It’s a threat that usually works with my large kitty.
“Are you threatening your cat?” McJerk laughs like it’s unusual to talk to your cat.
“Yes.” I glare at him over my shoulder. “I can look by myself.” I would actually prefer not to have him judging everything I do.
My rudeness doesn’t deter McJerk in the least. “Where does he usually go?” And I want to kick him when I realize he isn’t even a little out of breath while I’m gasping for air.
“He usually stays in the house,” I wheeze out. “How are you not out of breath?” I hate naturally athletic people.
“I usually run a few miles every day.”
Of course, he does. I roll my eyes dramatically, knowing he can’t see it in the dark.
A gray streak jumps from the Andersons’ bushes and rushes straight for me. I guess the hard food threat finally convinced Roger to stop being difficult. I lean down, and my thirty-plus-pound cat jumps into my arms. I guess my spoiled kitty has had enough outside time.