So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door

I’m not going to be fooled by another Mr. Wrong.

I once thought I’d found my Mr. Right—then my best friend found him as well. One divorce later, and this single mom swore off love, romance, and all smooth-talking, tattooed, bad boys.

Until him.

The worst mistake of my life moved in next door—a bona fide pain in my ass and pleasure everywhere else. Adam Hardick might hide behind his beard and sunglasses, but I see through him—he’s chronically single and just looking for trouble.

And now his eyes aren’t staying on his side of the fence.

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’m looking for stability, responsibility, and someone who can love me and my three-year-old daughter. I can’t risk another broken heart.

But when our innocent fling becomes an accidental pregnancy, our relationship isn’t just for fun anymore. Can I trust a committed bachelor to become a devoted daddy?

It’s easy to fall in love…but sometimes the best romance is the one you never expected.

****
KELSEY
****
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.

Tree climbing is something I haven’t done since I was a kid.

“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. “Don’t you go any higher, you little terrorist.”

Yellow eyes stare down on me, narrowed and accusing. Her mew is low, asking 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 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.”

I heft myself up to perch my other foot on the next branch.

Please don’t let the bough break.

A cool breeze blows up my oversized sleep shirt.

Crap. I forgot.

Closing my eyes, I lean my forehead against the wood and sigh.
Imagine the viral video’s title: Woman Chases Cat Commando Style.

Across the street, Mr. Alberto’s front door is still closed.

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.

Rustling leaves pull my attention to the kitten. The white tip of her tail swishes three branches higher than ten seconds ago.

“Aw, c’mon. Give a girl a break.”

I grasp the next branch, hands shaking as much as my knees, while I inch upward a little more. “Chloe, come to Momma.”

I freeze when someone clears their throat from below my precarious position, hanging off the side of the tree.

“You all right up there?” The voice is deep and silky, like melted fudge.

“Yes.” I swallow. “I’m just trying to get my Chloe.”

“Well, I don’t know what a Chloe is, but I definitely found your sugar glider.