So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door

So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door

<b>I won’t let another <i>Mr. Wrong</i> fool me.</b><br /><br />I thought I’d found my Mr. Right—then he turned <i>wrong</i>, and ran off with my best friend. After my divorce, I swore off love, romance, and smooth-talking, tattooed, bad boys.<br /><br />Until <i>him</i>.<br /><br />The worst mistake of my life moved in next door—a bona fide pain in my ass, even if he’s a pleasure <i>everywhere</i> else. Adam Hardick might hide behind his beard and sunglasses, but I see through him—he’s chronically single and just looking for trouble.<br /><br />And now his eyes are trained on my side of the fence.<br /><br />It doesn’t matter that Adam is sexier than any man I’ve ever known, or that he’s hiding a mysterious injury from his service overseas. I need stability, responsibility, and someone who can love me and my three-year-old daughter.<br /><br />I can’t risk another broken heart. But when our innocent fling becomes an accidental pregnancy, our relationship isn’t just for fun anymore.<br /><br />Can I trust a committed bachelor to become a <i>devoted daddy</i>?<br /><br />Falling in love is easy…but sometimes the best romance is the one you never expected.<br /><br /><br />*****<br />KELSEY<br />*****<br /><br />I grab the lowest branch, looking left and right to check that no one’s around to witness what might be a potential viral video opportunity in the making.<br /><br />Tree climbing is something I haven’t done since I was a kid.<br /><br />“Chloe, you’re making me look ridiculous.” I hike my bare foot up to the first knot on the massive trunk as bark bites into my palms. <br />“Don’t you go any higher, you little terrorist.”<br /><br />Yellow eyes stare down on me, narrowed and accusing. Her mew is low, asking <i>what the hell, Servant? You think you have nine lives? Get down before you break your fool neck and can’t do my bidding.</i><br /><br />“I know. I know.” It’s not natural for people to climb trees; especially those of us who’s asses are usually glued to desk chairs rather than traipsing into the great outdoors. “Here, kitty, kitty.”<br /><br />I heft myself up to perch my other foot on the next branch. <br /><br />Please don’t let the bough break.<br /><br />A cool breeze blows up my oversized sleep shirt.<br /><br />Crap. I forgot.<br /><br />Closing my eyes, I lean my forehead against the wood and sigh.<br /><br />Imagine the viral video’s title: <i>Woman Chases Cat Commando Style.</i><br /><br />Across the street, Mr. Alberto’s front door is still closed.<br /><br />Good, maybe I’ll catch the cat and climb down before he comes out to retrieve his newspaper and gets an early morning peep show in the process. The poor man’s pace-maker might fry at the sight of my twat airing out as the sun rises.<br /><br />Rustling leaves pull my attention to the kitten. The white tip of her tail swishes three branches higher than ten seconds ago. <br /><br />“Aw, c’mon. Give a girl a break.”<br /><br />I grasp the next branch, hands shaking as much as my knees, while I inch upward a little more. “Chloe, come to Momma.”<br /><br />I freeze when someone clears their throat from below my precarious position, hanging off the side of the tree.<br /><br />“You all right up there?” The voice is deep and silky, like melted fudge. <br /><br />“Yes.” I swallow. “I’m just trying to get my Chloe.”<br /><br />“Well, I don’t know what a <i>Chloe</i> is, but I definitely found your sugar glider.”<br /><br />I reach for Chloe as she scampers further out onto her branch. “She’s not a sugar glider. She’s a kitten.”<br /><br />A soft chuckle speeds my pulse. “A lot of them are called kittens, but the one I’m looking at is <i>definitely</i> a sugar glider. Looks too sweet to be a cat.”<br /><br />Holy crap! From down there, he can see <i>everything</i>!<br /><br />Heat steals over my chest and up my neck to my cheeks. More than anything I want to press my knees together to block my coochie from view, but I’m stranded, mid-climb, in this stupid tree, trying to get hold of my crazy escape-artist of a pet. <br /><br />Lord, why do I even crawl out of bed most days? <br />