The Bad Boy Next Door (Kendrick Place) Read online

  “Actually,” he said, grabbing the fork and scooping up another huge bite of chicken and potatoes. “The tenant I told you about, Gabby? She just got engaged. She was prattling on in the elevator the other day about how she wanted to have a party, but she doesn’t have time to put it all together. Her fiancé is the planner of the two, but she told him she wanted to take care of it.”

  Excitement of a different kind bubbled. “Really? That’s great. Can you introduce me?” An introduction didn’t count as relying on someone, right?

  His scowl returned. “They live in 403.”

  Shay laughed with less humor. Wyatt Daniels was not a man she’d have to worry about coming to rely on—he’d make sure of it. “Great. Thanks a lot.”

  He shrugged and took another bite. She smacked his hand and one of those eyebrows arched up perfectly. It was a look he probably used to scare people, but Shay just smiled.

  “The rest is for Brady.”

  Wyatt held her gaze a moment, then looked at her lips. Setting the fork down, he took a step closer. His voice was low. “You going to feed it to him?”

  Shay took another step back and felt the heat rising up her neck and covering her face. “No.” She wasn’t sure why she’d done that with Wyatt, except there was something magnetic in his gaze that made her need to be closer.

  Wyatt gave a curt nod and held her gaze for another moment. Then, it was like a switch had been flicked. The warmth and openness she thought she’d glimpsed shuttered closed. “Thanks for the casserole.”

  He let himself out, and all Shay could do was grip the countertop, wondering why her heart couldn’t do jumping jacks for the right man. It didn’t matter this time, though, because her new life was all about living smart—thinking with her head, not her emotions.

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered.

  Chapter Four

  Wyatt pulled into the grocery store parking lot and found a space reasonably close. He turned in the driver’s seat, reaching into the back for his reusable bags. The ones Shay had placed inside of each other when she’d cleaned his damn house. Don’t think about her. He’d been telling himself that for two days. Though thinking about his cute new neighbor was a far sight better than the thoughts that usually occupied his mind.

  With bags in hand, he headed into the store. He should have made a list. You say that every time. Who needed a list? He ate the same things every week anyway. Frozen pizza, pasta, sandwiches, cereal. Quick, easy, on-the-go food. Nothing that required too much energy or effort. Nothing that tastes like the delicious meal Shay whipped up. The woman could cook. So could he, if he cared to, but most of the time, it was easier to just heat something up.

  The store wasn’t busy. Two women were standing by their respective cash registers, chatting with each other and looked up when Wyatt came in.

  “Good morning,” said the taller of the two women.

  He gave a small nod, grabbed a cart, and made his way to the back of the store. His sister was always harping at him about eating better. There were some perks to being an adult, and eating what he wanted definitely counted. Still, he stopped at the produce and picked up some oranges, apples, and bananas. They’d balance out the Doritos he planned to buy.

  Maybe he could make a casserole and freeze it. He pushed the cart around a woman studying the label on a container of yogurt like the secret formula for life was printed there. Stopping just shy of the meat section, he pulled out his phone. He could find a simple recipe online and make his own casserole. Without help from the neighbor he was not thinking about. He scrolled as he pushed, passing over a weird pork and mushroom recipe. No thanks. Shay’s had chicken and potatoes, some carrots, and a few spices he couldn’t identify.

  When his cart stopped without warning, Wyatt realized he’d hit something. His neck snapped up, and he swore under his breath. Make that someone. The shapely shopper with the gorgeous, flowing blond hair reminded him of his neighbor, and just as he started to berate himself for thinking about her again, the woman turned. It was Shay.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. He hadn’t blushed since he was a kid, but his neck felt warm enough right now that he knew his skin was turning an unflattering shade of pink. Shay rubbed her hands over her bottom, and Wyatt’s thoughts took a sharp turn. He held her gaze like a lifeline so his eyes didn’t wander.

  She smiled through a wince. “Hey, neighbor,” she said, pulling his attention to her mouth.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You said that.” She turned all the way around now—he’d driven the cart right into the back of her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Well padded,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

  He started to say her ass was perfect but stopped himself. Thank God. Strands of her blond hair fell into her blue eyes, and Wyatt watched her tuck the locks behind her ear. Speak. What’s wrong with you? “I’m sorry,” he muttered again, pulling his cart farther away.

  Shay laughed and his stomach tightened with awareness at the feminine sound. He was losing it. He’d spent so much time alone since returning to regular duty, he was obsessing over the sound of a woman’s—a stranger practically—laugh.

  “I should go,” Wyatt said.

  Shay frowned. “You’re a pretty big guy. Kind of seems like you’d eat more than fruit.”

  “Right. I meant go finish my shopping.”

  He started to push the cart forward, intending to say good-bye and be done with it, but Shay pushed her cart alongside his. “Me, too. You doing a big shop?”

  Wyatt gripped the handle tighter, focusing on the feel of the cool plastic casing on the bar. “Big shop?”

  When she turned her head to look at him, her hair flew out, and he caught the scent of…he didn’t even know how to describe it. Like softness and flowers.

  “Big shop. You know, every month you do a big shop and then a few mini ones to fill in the gap. You get all your large ticket recipe items in one shop and then you can just run to the corner store or whatever for milk and yogurt.”

  “I don’t eat yogurt.” You’re an idiot. That’s the best you could come up with?

  “Hm. You’re missing out. Anyway,” she continued, nudging them both down an aisle by veering her cart slightly, “I have three brothers, so my mom always did one big shop a month. Usually Costco. Seems like a lot of work for just one person, though, I guess.”

  Despite not wanting to be curious, he couldn’t help but ask. “Three brothers?”

  Shay nodded gravely. “Yup. All older.”

  Wyatt gave a gruff laugh. “Wow. There’s a roadblock to having a life of your own.”

  He knew how he was with Abigail. He hadn’t seen her much lately, but if anyone tried to hurt her or she needed something, he’d be there in a heartbeat.

  Shay stopped pushing the cart and stared at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “That’s exactly what it felt like. A roadblock. I love them all, but they’d prefer I sit back and let them take care of everything.”

  Wyatt shrugged. What was wrong with that? Then he thought of Abigail’s stubborn independence. When her ex had flaked out, Wyatt had wanted to help financially, and she’d all but shoved that idea and his money down his throat.

  “They love you.”

  Her smile was more than a simple upward tipping of lips. It was a brightening of her whole face. Like a light shining from inside. “They do. But I’m enjoying my freedom.”

  She turned to look at the shelf, and Wyatt realized they were in the cereal aisle. He could use some more cereal. She chose a box of Cheerios, placing it in her cart. When he grabbed Corn Pops, she frowned.

  “You like those?”

  He started to answer sarcastically but went with a shrug. They continued to walk, her grabbing high nutrient granola bars, him choosing chocolate-coated ones. In the next lane, she selected whole-wheat pasta and cans of tomatoes.

  He pulled a huge jar of red sauce off the shelf,
putting it in his cart. “You just put tomatoes on your pasta?” That sounded gross.

  Shay looked up from the list she was crossing off. He really should make one before coming.

  “No. I use the tomatoes to make a yummy marinara sauce. It’s really easy. Takes less than ten minutes.”

  Was she offering to show him? Jesus. Now you want cooking lessons? He pushed the cart forward and headed for the frozen pizza. Shay stayed at his side. He expected her to chat, but she seemed content with the quiet between them. He’d never done this—shopped with a woman, other than his mom and sister, for groceries.

  In the dairy aisle, she stopped and checked her list again. “Shoot. I forgot eggs. Can you watch my cart and I’ll just run back and grab them?”

  “Sure,” he said, pulling a carton of milk out of the cooler.

  He chose to watch her instead of the cart. She moved gracefully, like a dancer in a rush. When a little girl stepped in her path, Shay just smiled and went around. Because Wyatt was watching, he didn’t miss the way the little girl’s dad eyed his neighbor appreciatively. Why this made him want to get in the dad’s face, he couldn’t say.

  Shay hurried back, eggs in hand, and they carried on through the store. Wyatt had meant to be in and out, but Shay was making the mundane chore almost…relaxing. With a pen she pulled out of her jacket pocket, she crossed off a few more items on her paper. He’d added some frozen pizzas to his cart, some mac and cheese, and was opening the freezer to grab some fish sticks when she put her hand on his arm.

  She was looking up at him with concern. “I’ve let everything else go, but tell me you’re not buying fish sticks.”

  The freezer was pushing out cold air, chilling his fingers. “What’s wrong with fish sticks?”

  She pushed the door closed, which should have irritated him. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

  “Real food doesn’t come in sticks,” she told him.

  He smirked. “Not true. Sticks of butter. Bread sticks.”

  Wyatt saw her lips twitch, but she didn’t smile. An unexpected desire to make her smile—to be the reason for her amusement—filled his chest, surprising him.

  “Wyatt.”

  He pointed at her. “Kabobs!”

  She laughed and it felt like he’d won a race. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t even like grocery shopping.

  “Okay, you get that one. But that’s an exception.”

  “Mozza sticks,” he added. He pulled open the freezer door again, ignoring her sigh. He winked at her as he tossed the box of fish in his cart.

  She shook her head. “You are a grown-up, right?”

  “Popsicles. Fudgsicles. Tell me you don’t like Popsicles,” he said.

  Shay pushed her cart forward, laughing. “That’s not the point.”

  “Have you tried fish sticks?”

  “When I was a kid. They taste like cardboard,” she answered, heading into the checkout. Only two people were in front of them, but the store was getting busier.

  “Snob.”

  She turned around and faced him. “Excuse me?”

  He kept his face serious. “You’re a food snob.”

  “Because I don’t like it out of a box?”

  “You’re judging the food by its packaging. Isn’t that sort of the same as the book by its cover?”

  She actually looked frustrated by that statement, and it amused the hell out of him. She eyed his fish sticks warily.

  “I’ll try them. But you have to try something I like.”

  He stepped closer, ignoring the voice in his head that told him not to. When he was close enough to touch her, he stopped. “Tell me what you like.”

  The sharp intake of breath told him she caught the innuendo. Her eyes widened, and she turned to start putting her items on the conveyer. She didn’t answer him, and he wondered if he’d taken the teasing too far. Why was he teasing her anyway? He touched her arm, and she startled, looking up at him.

  “I was joking.”

  “It’s a good look on you. The teasing.”

  It was Shay’s turn to go through, and she waited for him to be finished as well. He thought about her observation—he hadn’t teased anyone in so long. Not genuinely. He laughed and joked with the guys at work sometimes. He wasn’t a complete social moron. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d teased a woman. Enjoyed a woman’s company. For good reason. Even when he was ready to get back out there for something more than a night of mutual pleasure, it wouldn’t be with someone so sweet and innocent she turned red from a little banter.

  The cashier took her time giving him back his change, trying to make conversation with him. Funny, he didn’t feel the need to chat with her.

  As she handed him back a couple of dollar bills, she asked, “Did you get that sweater at The Gap?”

  He took his eyes off Shay and looked at the woman. Probably about his age with bleached hair and a weary smile. “What?”

  “The Gap? It’s a great blue, and it really pairs well with your eyes. Makes them seem almost hazel,” she said.

  Wyatt’s skin itched. What the hell was she talking about? When he heard Shay’s muffled laughter, he sent her a hard look that did nothing to cut off her amusement. “Uh, they are hazel,” he said.

  He shoved his cash into his pocket, not even taking the time to put it in his wallet. He grabbed his bags and brushed past Shay, who followed after him.

  “Aw. Did that fluster you?”

  He walked toward his car, not slowing his stride. “What are you talking about?”

  “That woman was totally flirting with you. You practically ran from her,” Shay said, her laughter ringing out through the crisp air. It was almost the end of January, but the weather was being surprisingly kind. Cold, but bright.

  “I did not run. Let me load these things in, and I’ll walk you to your car,” he said.

  “I don’t have a car.”

  He tossed the bags into the backseat and turned to see if she was joking. It didn’t appear that she was.

  “How did you get here?”

  She smiled, almost like she was indulging him. “On my bike.”

  “You rode a bike here?”

  She pointed toward the store, where a bike rack, with only one bike, was located outside the entrance doors. “That’s my ride. Or I take the bus.”

  Not his business. Not his problem. Why didn’t she have a car?

  She lifted the bags and smiled. “I’ll see you later. Thanks for shopping with me.”

  What? “Wait. You can’t ride your bike with groceries,” he said, though he didn’t know why it bothered him so much. What did he care how she got home?

  Shay looked over her shoulder at him and frowned. He caught up with her and took one of the bags from her hand, despite her protest.

  “I can get myself home, Wyatt. I’m not a little girl.”

  Trust me, I can see that. “It’s freezing out.”

  “I’m wearing a jacket.”

  “There’s traffic.”

  “I know all of my signals.”

  “I’m heading home.”

  She stopped at her bike and put the bag she was holding in the basket attached to the handle bars. Then she pulled the other one from his hand and placed it in as well.

  “Then I’ll see you there.”

  “Shay. Stop being so stubborn.”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a key, unlocked her bike, and pulled it out of the slot. “I’m not being stubborn, Wyatt. Why is it that every time a person does what they intended to do, it’s seen as stubborn? Am I telling you you’re pigheaded for taking your car home? No. Why would I? I’ve been riding a bike since I was four years old. I got myself here and I can get myself home. How I choose to do that is none of your business.”

  All true. Yet he continued to push before he could tell himself to back up, back off, back away. “I can put the bike on my roof rack.”

  Her mouth twisted and then she pr
essed her lips together, like she was thinking of what to say. Maybe stopping herself from saying what she was thinking.

  Here he was trying to be neighborly, which she’d told him to do, and she was mad about it. How did that make sense?

  “I don’t need to be taken care of.”

  His mouth dropped open. “I am not trying to take care of you.” Irritation replaced concern.

  Shay put on gloves and strapped her helmet over her pretty blond hair. “Maybe you don’t see it that way. But I do. Thank you for the offer, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  He hadn’t said otherwise. She straddled the bike and gave him a soft, almost muted smile. “See you, neighbor.”

  He watched her ride away and tried to swallow the desire to follow her in his car. She was a grown woman, and she was absolutely right. She didn’t need to be taken care of and even if she did, he was nobody’s caretaker. He was her neighbor. Nothing more. Checking his watch, he decided swinging by the station wasn’t a bad idea. It was in the opposite direction of his building.

  Chapter Five

  Shay held the phone in the crook between her ear and shoulder and grabbed a pen. “That’s lovely of you to think of me. Thank you,” she said to Laura Weathers, the librarian she’d met with yesterday.

  “I’d like to do one local author event each month at the library. I was discussing this with my staff, saying how you had some fabulous ideas for this month’s, and I just thought, well, I want something special for our head librarian’s retirement. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it while you were here yesterday,” Laura said.

  “We were busy planning other things, but this is great. You said end of March right?” Shay wrote that down on the paper in front of her. She’d log the information into her computer after the phone call.

  “Yes. Lots of time, but I thought it best to ask now. I have a feeling you’ll be booking up. You’ve got such great rates, and you’re just so sweet. You remind me of my granddaughter.”