Chapter One

Chapter One

One Year Later

Cherry

I can’t wait to shower and get this gunk out of my hair. The annual Halloween party at Annabelle’s big house up on the hill was a ton of fun. That woman knows how to throw an epic party, and this year was no different.

The theme was the roaring twenties, which meant I got to wear a pretty, sparkly dress, a bunch of makeup, and plaster my hair with hairspray in precise waves around my face. Don’t even get me started on the glitter.

All the glitter in the land.

So, the first order of business after that fun party is a long, hot shower.

It’ll be the perfect way to end a great night. I don’t usually stay up until almost midnight, certainly not when I have to work so early the next day, but it was worth every minute I stayed up past my bedtime. In addition to a fantastic evening spent with most of my friends in my little town, I got a couple of good digs in with Zeke, too. And from the look on his too-handsome face, it irritated the hell out of him.

No regrets.

Since he’d moved in over a year ago, Zeke and I have settled into a nice routine of mutual dislike, verbal jabs, and looks that could kill at fifty paces.

I’m still bitter that he bought the condo out from under me. But more than that, I’m tired of watching so many people like him move into my sleepy little town and try to change it.

Just last week, he complained to me down by the mailboxes that there isn’t a decent place to get Mexican food without driving fifty miles.

People think they would love to live here, but then move in and do nothing but complain because it doesn’t have the conveniences of the big city.

It’s annoying as hell.

Blowing out a breath, I open my music app and choose soothing songs to listen to during my shower. Next, I light a candle that I made myself and offer for sale online, and then turn on the water to let it heat up.

Humming under my breath, I make a trip to the linen closet to grab a towel and a hair wrap. Once I’ve stripped down and hung my dress in the closet, I return to the shower.

It’s not steamy yet, but it’ll get there, so I step in and shiver.

“That’s cold. ” Moving out of the direct line of the spray until it heats up, I decide to start with shaving my legs.

But the more I lather them up, the more I realize that the shower isn’t getting any warmer, no matter how far I turn the nozzle to the red side.

“Shit,” I mutter. “Is the hot water out?”

I step out of the shower and wrap my towel around myself. Without thinking, I stomp out the front door, shaving cream running down my legs, and mascara streaking my face, and head over to Zeke’s apartment to knock on the door.

A few seconds later, he opens it. His eyebrows climb in surprise when he sees that it’s me and takes in the state I’m in.

“Is your hot water out?”

“Huh?”

“I was trying to shower,”—I gesture to myself—“and I don’t have any hot water. Is yours out, too?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Shit, it’s cold out here.” I start to bounce in place, leaving a little shaving-cream-laced puddle on the floor, and scowl at him. “Check your water, please.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” He shakes his head and smiles as he leans on the doorjamb and crosses his arms over his chest, clearly enjoying himself as his eyes journey down my wet body.

“If you laugh at me, I’ll poke your eyes out.”

“Have you always been such a violent woman? Look, each unit has its own hot water heater, Cherry. It’s not like when the electricity goes out for the whole building.”

“Damn it. The one night a year that it’s not going to be a quick shower, this happens. I hate cold showers.” Shivering, I start to turn and slosh back to my place.

“Use mine.”

He offers so easily it makes me blink.

“You don’t want me in your shower.”

“I don’t mind.” He shrugs as if he has women in his shower all the time—which he probably does. “Seriously, go get your stuff. I’ll start it for you.”

I stay planted where I am and narrow my eyes at him until he huffs out a breath and physically turns me around.

“Go. Get your stuff. I’ll leave the door open for you.”

I should decline, suck it up, and just take the cold shower. But it will take me at least three shampoos to get all the gunk out of my hair, then I need to condition, and I don’t want to do all of that in cold water.

So, without overthinking it, I hurry back to my bathroom, blow out my candle, gather my hair stuff, razor, soap, hair wrap, and then grab some clothes before rushing back over to Zeke’s place. True to his word, the door is open, so I walk right in and head straight for the guest bathroom.

But the water isn’t on there.

“Where are you?” I call out.

“My room,” he calls back.

The main bathroom is already steamy from the shower when I walk in.

“I can use your guest bath.”

“This one is better,” he says with a shrug. “Bigger shower. Take your time.”

He moves to pat me on the shoulder just as I turn, and rather than my shoulder, his hand lands right on my boob.

“Sorry,” he says, jumping back. “I didn’t mean—sorry.”

He hurries out the door, closes it, and leaves me wondering what in the ever-loving hell just happened.

Zeke never fumbles or seems unsure of himself. If anything, he’s a cocky, arrogant ass. But one accidental touch of my breast, and he fumbles away?

Talk about a shot to my ego.

I drop my towel and step into the blessedly hot water. Then, deciding to start fresh, I rinse off completely and begin with my hair.

It takes four shampoos until glitter no longer runs down the drain, and when I finally have the conditioner on, I turn my attention to my legs.

I forgot my shaving cream, so I use Zeke’s. The smell of him fills the steamy room, making my stomach clench. How is it that he annoys the crap out of me, yet I want to climb him like a damn tree all at the same time?

Finally, feeling warm and clean, I turn off the water and wrap my hair to dry. I reach for my towel that I dropped on the floor, but then I realize that Zeke set out a fresh one for me and decide to use that one.

Once I’m dry and dressed, my hair still in its wrap, I emerge from the bathroom feeling a million times better and find Zeke in the kitchen, stirring something in a mug.

“I made this for you,” he says, holding out the steaming cup. His eyes don’t quite meet mine.

“What is it?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Thank you.” I accept the offering and take a sip, then blink in surprise. “This didn’t come out of a packet.”

“No, ma’am. Melted it on the stove.”

“You know how to make real hot chocolate?”

“Learned from my grandma,” he confirms and sips from his own mug. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“I always have fun at Annabelle’s Halloween party. It’s the event of the year, you know.”

“I’ve heard. This was my first one.”

“Did you like it?”

“It was pretty amazing,” he confirms. “But it seemed like most of the town was there. What do the kids do for trick-or-treating?”

“There are different events for them in town, usually earlier in the evening so their parents can go to Annabelle’s party.” I take a sip, delighting in the sweet warmth. “Work is going to suck for me tomorrow. I’m already dreading it.”

I blow out a breath as Zeke tilts his head, watching me. “I’ve lived across from you all this time, and I don’t know what you do for a living.”

“We don’t usually have civil conversations.” I shrug one shoulder as if it doesn’t matter. “I’m a preschool teacher, and I work the early shift. I have to be there by six-thirty so parents who go in early can drop their kids off before they head in.”

“Damn, that’s early.”

“Why do you think I hate loud music at night?”

He nods slowly. “Makes sense. From now on, I promise to shut it down by nine.”

I snort and set my now-empty mug in the sink. “Thanks for your help tonight. I’ll take your towel home and wash it.”

“Appreciate it,” he says, watching as I gather my things in my arms. “Want me to come have a look at your water heater?”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” I wave him off, ready to go home. I’m not sure how to handle Zeke when we’re not sparring with each other.

“I’m pretty handy with those kinds of things,” he says as he slips his feet into a pair of sneakers. “But it’s your heater. Your call.”

Honestly, if it saves me from spending several hundred dollars, I’ll take all the help I can get. I don’t have a new hot water heater in my budget right now.

“If you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you’d have a look.”

He grins and sets his mug in the sink beside mine, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “I don’t mind. This is what I’m made for. Let’s do it.”

I lead the way over to my place and key in the code to unlock the door. I don’t have to tell Zeke where the heater is since it’s in the same spot in his condo. I busy myself putting my things away, dropping the towels into the washing machine but not starting it. Then I join Zeke at the hot water heater in the hallway closet.

“Why do you have duct tape right here?” He frowns.

“Oh, there was an issue once, and I just used duct tape to fix it. It worked.”

“Fire hazard,” he mutters as he tinkers with something. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think this one is dead, Cherry.”

“Like, the whole unit?”

“Yep.” He closes it up and turns to me. “You can definitely call in a professional for a second opinion, and you’ll need one anyway to replace it, but it looks like it’s all burned up in there. I unplugged it so it doesn’t set anything on fire.”

“Shit,” I mutter and pull the wrap off my head, shaking out the wet strands of my dark hair. “Well, thanks for having a look. I guess I’ll be washing everything in cold water for a while. Including myself.”

“Don’t be stupid.” He scowls down at me. “Just come over to my place until you can get on someone’s schedule. You can wash your stuff over there and shower. It’s really no big deal for me, and it’s just across the hall.”

“Listen, I know we don’t get along—despite this little moment of truce. You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s true, you drive me crazy. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be neighborly.” He pushes his hand through his hair in agitation. This is the Zeke I know. “Maybe we can work out a trade.”

I take a step back, appalled. “No.”

“Jesus, not that kind of trade, although you’re hot as fuck, and I wouldn’t complain.”

I’m pretty sure my jaw just hit the floor. Zeke thinks I’m hot?

“I was thinking that maybe you could put a hold on the nagging while I offer you my hot water.”

“I don’t nag. ”

He laughs and rubs his fingertips into his forehead like he’s completely frustrated.

“You nag more than my grandmother, and that woman could have won an Olympic gold medal if it were a sport.”

“What do I nag you about?” I prop my hands on my hips and narrow my eyes at him.

“What don’t you nag me about?” He shakes his head. “’ Turn the music down, Zeke. Stop laughing so loud, Zeke. Jesus, Zeke, when was the last time you checked your mail? It’s overflowing in your box. Zeke, you parked like crap again. ’ I’m telling you, I get real sick and tired of my name.”

I can only blink at him. Do I really sound like that? Do I bitch at him constantly?

“Well.” I sound stiff as a board, but I can’t help it. I’m mortified. “I will stop doing that. Thanks for bringing it to my attention. And thank you for the offer, but I’ll pass. I can go to my parents’ house. I appreciate your help tonight. Have a nice evening.”

He frowns. “Now, you just sound like you have a stick up your ass.”

“What do you want from me?” It comes out in an exasperated shout. “Christ Jesus, Zeke, have you ever considered that I nag because you do those things all the goddamn time , and it’s inconsiderate? No, I’m sure you haven’t. You just think I’m a tight-ass bitch who likes the sound of my own voice, not a human being who has jobs and responsibilities of her own. But it’s fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut from here on out and suck it up. I’ll invest in some noise-blocking earbuds and park in the visitor parking so I don’t have to deal with your shitty parking jobs. I really do appreciate you being so nice to me tonight. It was a pleasant surprise, but I won’t expect it to continue. See you around.”

“God, you’re so damn exasperating.”

“Same goes, Zeke .”

We just stand there for several seconds, breathing hard and glaring at each other, and then the next thing I know, Zeke closes the gap between us, cups my face in his hands, and kisses me.

Like, kisses me.

It’s hot and demanding, as if he’s been thinking about doing it since the minute we met, and he has months-and-months-worth of pent-up sexual aggression to get out.

And, surprisingly, I don’t mind at all.

Because as much as he makes me want to scream, he makes me feel. He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life, and now that his hands are on me, his mouth on mine, I don’t want him to ever stop.

I press against him, chest to stomach, and invite more.

And he gives more.

Takes more.

It’s the hottest kiss of my damn life.

Zeke growls—like, literally growls —and reaches down to cup my ass. He picks me up like I weigh nothing at all, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he sets me on the kitchen counter.

“How is it possible,” I mutter as his mouth does incredible things to my neck, “that we can dislike each other so much and want to tear off each other’s clothes at the same time?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not mad about it.”

Oh, I’m definitely not mad about it. How can I be when his hands make me shiver, and his mouth may as well have been sent from God Himself?

But then, just as his hands dive under my shirt, I start to overthink it all. Which is totally on brand for me, even if it is stupidly inconvenient right now.

“Zeke.”

I don’t push him away, but he must sense the hesitation in my voice because his head comes up, and he pins me with those bright blue eyes.

“You want me to stop, Cherry?”

“No.” But I don’t sound convinced.

He cups my cheek and softly brushes his thumb back and forth.

“It’s okay,” he says as he rests his forehead against mine. “Now, I need a cold shower.”

I can’t help but laugh and be grateful that he isn’t a complete jerk who issues a guilt trip when a girl says enough —even though I didn’t actually say it.

“I have a cold shower you can use.”

That makes him grin. “Do I need to apologize?”

“No.” I can’t resist dragging my fingertips down his cheek. “It might be mortifying if you do.”

“Good, because I’m not sorry. I’ve been thinking about doing that for more than a fucking year.”

“Really? Even though I’m a nag?”

I grin when his eyes smolder with more lust.

“You’re the hottest nag in the county. We might dislike each other, but the chemistry…it’s almost mean.”

“You have to go home now,” I inform him. “Because I do have to work early, and it’s going to suck with sugar-riddled little kids first thing in the morning. And if you don’t go, I’ll ask you to stay, and that’s not a good idea.”

“I have a long day tomorrow, too. So, I’d better go home and put on that loud metal music I sleep to.”

“Don’t make me poke your eyes out.”

“So violent,” he says again, but he’s grinning as he steps away from me. “The code to my door is 3792. Just come in when you need to.”

“I won’t—”

Before I can finish, he closes my door behind him, and I’m left sitting on the kitchen counter, completely turned on and irritated at the same time.

Sounds about right when it comes to Zeke.