Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Poppy

Inhale.

Exhale.

You'll survive this. You have overcome much worse.

Fainting in front of your new neighbor isn't so bad. Right?

The stench of humiliation wraps around me like a bad, itchy sweater as I lean closer to Harper.

"Harper, I'm officially begging you – could you just smother me with that pillow over there?" I whisper. It's a nice-looking pillow, too. Death by Designer Pillow doesn't sound so terrible.

I scan the surroundings, perched on an actual chair because I'm inside my neighbor's apartment, where things have been assembled.

I swear, I'm practically getting a doctorate in embarrassment today. Move over, Rosacea, because you've got competition in the humiliation department.

My cheeks? Blushing like they're about to launch into orbit. I've secured a permanent spot in the Hall of Shame for this one. Apparently, being hungover, flying, then moving boxes in the extreme heat, as well as riding an emotional roller coaster, can cause dehydration.

"This is good," Harper beams with a twinkle in her blue eyes.

I manage to muster a mix of a groan and a sigh, caught somewhere between absolute mortification and appreciating that Harper always finds a way to sprinkle some humor into my misery. These little quirks make our friendship unique, even in the face of monumental embarrassment.

"I'm beginning to think there's a conspiracy against my dignity," I mutter. "I hate you," I hiss.

"I love you," She flashes a lopsided grin.

"How is this good?" I whisper, my cheeks burning as I glance down, hoping to avoid the curious onlookers around us. Luckily, most of the men have resumed their unpacking duties, moving around his apartment with confidence and assurance, something my movers never possessed.

Kent is helping his brother, my new neighbor, find the box labeled "Kitchen" so he can get me a glass of water. I told him it wasn't necessary the same moment Harper said how thoughtful he was as she helped guide me inside his apartment and onto an assembled chair.

Harper leans closer, her voice barely a whisper as her eyes look at Kent and his brother. "Imagine the orgasms you're going to have," she mutters.

My eyebrows inch up to my hairline. "Shh!" I stammer.

She turns to me and starts fussing with my hair, trying to make my messy bun look chic – an impossible task. "Your new neighbor. Capitol H.O.T." Her eyes widen mischievously, akin to a naughty child sneaking a finger into cake icing to steal a lick. "Brothers! Hot brothers. Together."

"Harper, now is not the time!" I protest, desperately trying to keep my composure and praying they can't hear her whispers.

"Oh baby, there's always a time to come," she retorts with a playful wink.

"Oh. My. God," I mutter, mortified and utterly embarrassed but not shocked at her ability to make any situation or conversation sexual.

"You don't have to be embarrassed." Kent stands.

His brother walks to the sink to fill the glass he just unpacked.

Kent comes closer, his eyes fully dilated and on Harper, as he speaks again, "Everything is bigger and hotter in Texas. It's important to stay hydrated. We just gotta get you wet." He purrs as he winks at Harper.

What the hell! Did they make a pack to torture me with sexual innuendos?

They did! I know it. There is no way the universe produced a male version of Harper. One is enough.

This is her doing. She's trying to ensure I laugh and feel when she flies back home.

One might think it's a loving gesture if they were the devil.

Why couldn't she have found a sweet old lady to keep me company?

I deliver a swift kick to Harper that silences her next comment that would have struck me: DOA.

My new neighbor turns, a glass of water in his good hand. A black sling wraps around his neck, cradling his other hand to his chest.

As I watch him walk, my breath flutters and his eyes focus on me again. I glance down, only to feel a magnetic pull drawing my eyes back to his. I've never seen a man like him. He's not a polished, lying politician. He's rugged and says exactly what he thinks. He was willing to drag my movers out of the elevator. My ex never would have done that; he'd do something more backhanded.

His eyes are deep grey with a slight blue hue. They are cold yet calming, like a thunderstorm.

I lick my lips. I'm turned on. It's been so long since I truly felt giddy.

His jaw is strong and clean-shaven. His brown hair is also shaved short, giving him a ‘don't fuck with me or I'll kill you, motherfucker' attitude.

He is the complete opposite of Andrew. That is the biggest turn-on.

He kneels in front of me, glass in hand. My lips part.

What I must look like. Sweaty, messy, dirty hair, a stained shirt. Fuck! Harper was right. I need new clothes. I want to look like a Lululemon catalog right now.

Did I just think that? I did. Again.

I haven't wanted to look sexy for a man in over three years. Not since that night. Thus, the baggy clothes.

I watch as his eyes roam over my face. What does he see? Why do I feel his eyes don't care if I am dressed to the nines or rocking homeless chic?

My hazel eyes continue to drink him in; his eyes devour mine. I don't fully grasp what is happening here, panicking over the spark of chemistry my brain is surging through my body.

I want to trust those eyes, but it's hard. Trust isn't easy. My first instinct is to run far and fast.

Why do I want to trust him? I don't even know his name.

"Here you go," his voice is deep, the slight hint of a Texas accent hugging his final words.

He hands me a large glass of water, his fingers brushing mine as I accept it, and like a fairytale, I feel a spark. My insides clench. It feels like it's just the two of us. Eye to eye. He's surveying me, and I'm in awe of him.

"Thank you," I whisper in a hurry to take a sip. I don't know what is happening in my mind right now, but this sudden change freaks me out. I stand and extend the glass back to him.

I don't want to rush into anything. I want to take this new chapter of my life slowly. I don't want to make a mistake and trust the wrong person again.

"I need to go." Why does my voice sound so weak?

"Sit down, Poppy." He orders me.

I sit. Just like that. Not from fear. It's the hormones again. The fact that his steel eyes are still watching me. Seeing me. If he ordered me to lay down on his bed, I would obey. It's not out of fear like it was with Andrew. This is something else. Chemical? Physical? I don't know, but I'll call up a Nobel Prize-winning chemist to figure it out.

"How do you know my name?" I whisper.

He leans against his wall, one leg crossed over the other. "Harper told me."

"Oh, that makes sense." I nod, my eyes leaving him to see Harper fully engaged with Kent. She giggles as they leave the apartment, walking out the front door.

Where the hell is she going, and why are two other men following behind her?

Now is not the time for her to have a foursome in my hallway!

"Don't you want to ask my name?" His eyes turn up with lustful hope, and some of the darker grey's lighten to more of a silver tone.

I've never seen such captivating eyes before.

I nod because moving my lips to speak has become too hard to do in his presence.

"Then ask." He grins as he dips his chin.

I look at his hard, full lips stretching across his square jaw. Why do you want to hear my voice?

"What's your name, neighbor?" I mutter as my heart flutters like pages rapidly flipped in a book.

He pushes off the wall and extends his good hand to shake mine. "I'm Julian."

Julian. I never met a man with that name.

I slip my hand into his, and my sex clenches. His handshake is strong yet caressing, like a security blanket in which you want to wrap yourself.

"It's nice to meet you, Julian." I smile.

His fingers grip mine tighter, not in a painful way, as if he were gripping something fragile yet important to him. "It's nice to meet you too, Poppy."

The way he says my name…

We keep our hands connected longer than we should. It's me who pulls away first. All those emotions and thoughts are scaring me. I'm ready to meet men, have friends, and date, but I expected to wade through dozens of guys to find one normal one.

Is fate finally giving me a break, or is Julian another tragedy waiting to happen?

I drink another sip of water, grateful he didn't accept the glass when I tried to give it back to him. He's still got boxes to unpack, and here I am, causing a scene and slowing down his move-in.

"I'm sorry." I blurt out after I swallow.

"Why?" He sinks and sits on the floor in front of me. "You did nothing wrong." He replies as he adjusts his arm sling.

I stand abruptly. "Please sit." I offer his chair. "It's your house." I look over my shoulder. "Actually, I should let you finish unpacking."

Where is Harper?!

"Finish that glass of water, Poppy," he replies gently. "And if you think I'd take a chair from a lady, you're sorely mistaken."

"But you're hurt," I say, looking at his arm.

His face changes as he kicks his legs out; he leans his head against the wall, jaw tight. "It's nothing. Just the closing of one chapter and the beginning of a new one," he says, biting off the words with anger.

I pause at his words. I'm hopeful for my new chapter, but he's frustrated with his. Complete opposites.

"What brings you to Texas?" he asks, but his eyes look distant, still plagued by a distant memory.

I bounce from foot to foot. I can't sit in his chair while he sits on the floor. It feels wrong. Instead, I sit on the floor beside him. "A new job." That, and I'm free from a monster, and my brother refuses to acknowledge me. "You?" I ask as I sip more water.

"A new job as well," he says, tugging on the sling and sliding it away from his neck.

"You don't seem happy about it."

"I have to work with my family."

Family. He doesn't know how his words have poked my festering wounds.

"You don't like your family?" I question.

"I love them." His response surprises me. "I just didn't want to fit the mold my father wanted me to be."

I want to shout that he's lucky he still has a father. I take a page from Harper's book, "Daddy issues. That's a red flag."

Julian smirks, a playful glint in his grey eyes. "Red flags only matter when it comes to relationships."

"I take it you're not in one then, nor do you want one then?"

He hesitates for a moment, his gaze drifting to some distant memory. He scans his apartment, a loft-style space with exposed brick walls and large windows bathing the room in warm Texas sunlight. The decor is modern and minimalist: grey walls, warm brown wood floors, black hardware, and a giant TV dominating the living room wall. The artwork is of landscapes and abstracts that look expensive.

"No," Julian finally exhales, his breath heavy. "The last girlfriend I had cheated on me when I was deployed."

"Cheated...on you?" I deadpan, momentarily losing my filter.

He chuckles, a light spark in his eyes. "Thanks for the ego boost."

"Well, she was a fool."

"Kent would agree with you on that." He adds, absentmindedly grasping the back of his neck. My gaze inadvertently trails down his long, muscular legs, starkly contrasting with my own. Then, I feel his stormy eyes shift onto me, intense yet curious.

"What about you? What did your last boyfriend do to end things?"

He sinned. It was different than cheating, something far worse.

"He went to grad school. Didn't want strings attached," I voice, masking the truth with a half-lie.

I appreciate that Julian blames my ex, not me.

"Well, he's a fool too."

No, the fool was me for trusting him.

I roll my eyes playfully. "You're just saying that because I did." I reach up, tightening my messy bun, only to glance down at my old stained shirt and worn-out yoga pants. I seriously need new clothes. Harper was right; she usually is once you filter through all the sexual innuendos.

"No," Julian says firmly, capturing my attention.

I freeze, some of my hair falling loose as our eyes lock.

"I don't say things just to please others." He swallows, and I notice the subtle movement of his throat, his gaze scanning me again with an intensity that's hard to ignore.

"Are you the kind of neighbor who bangs on my door at midnight, asking me to turn the music down?" I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

He slides his right leg up, resting his elbow on his knee, a picture of casual interest. "Aww, so you're the partying type," he teases, a brow arching playfully.

"No," I shake my head, "My idea of a fun night is actually pretty boring."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "If you enjoy it, then it's not boring. Who cares what others think?"

His words are like the antidote to the poison my ex had fed me.

"True." I nod, trying to maintain composure. "What about you? What do you do for fun?"

His eyes glaze over, staring at a blank wall as if seeing something else. "A lot of it is classified," he admits with a half-hearted shrug. "I was a Lieutenant Delta Force."

"Delta Force?"

He nods, "It's one of the U.S. Army's elite counterterrorism units—kind of like the Navy SEALs, but we focus more on a variety of special operations. We're trained to handle high-stakes situations that others can't, ranging from hostage rescues to covert recon missions abroad."

A wave of relief washes over me, and I wipe my forehead theatrically. "Phew," I exaggerate, "I was worried you were in a gang and the injury was from a drug deal gone bad."

He laughs, a sound so genuine and infectious that it makes all my tensions unravel. "I like you, neighbor," he says, his smile reaching his eyes.

Just call me butter on a hot summer day because I'm melting.

"The verdict is still out on you," I retort, my fingers tapping rhythmically against the glass. "So, you're not in a gang, no girlfriend, you don't seem the partying type."

"I'm not," he confirms with an assuring tone.

"What other red flags should I be aware of?"

"I guess you'll have to come over more often to find out," he says with a hint of mischief in his voice. "What about you, Poppy? So far, I know you have some questionable friends."

"Just one friend," I correct him, "but she's extremely questionable."

"You forget to take care of yourself, like to faint, you hire unreliable movers, and you dated a loser. Anything else I should know about my new neighbor?"

I hum and haw, my gaze drifting over his boxes. "I love to organize."

He cringes sarcastically. "Ugh, you're one of those types. So, you're going to be insanely neat. No trash or pizza boxes piling up outside your door?"

"Nope," I pop the 'P,' feeling a smile spread across my face.

I like this. This strange, open, and honest interaction. Why can't every conversation with a man be like this?

"Are all men in Texas like you?" I blurt out impulsively.

He shakes his head, a playful seriousness in his eyes. "No. You should stay away from every man you meet. If you need anything, just ask me." His head tilts slightly as he continues to observe me.

"Be careful what you offer, neighbor." I playfully poke.

"I know what I'm offering, Poppy," he replies confidently.

Are we referring to sex? Neighbors with benefits?

I'm so out of my league. I need Harper to translate this for me.

"You're dangerous," I kid, a lightness in my tone.

"No, I'm honest, which sometimes is scarier," Julian chides gently. "But I like what I see, and I'm glad you're my neighbor and not some retired guy who likes to chug beers and yell at the TV."

"I'm glad you're my neighbor, too. Mainly because you managed to catch me when I fainted," I nod at his arm in the sling. "A one-handed catch, too. That definitely earns you bonus points."

He laughs again; it's a sound that fills the room with warmth. "I look forward to filling up my scorecard."

We talk and talk and…talk. It's so simple and easy to talk to Julian. Eventually, we're both completely relaxed, sharing old and new stories. I feel like I've known him for years, and the way he keeps talking to me and opening up makes me think he feels the same. As a matter of fact, we've been sitting here so long that I'm starting to notice little things about my handsome new neighbor, like how his lip tugs up more on the right side than the left or how he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to try to stifle a laugh.

I stretch my legs out and feel a rush of tingles. "We've been sitting here for so long my legs fell asleep."

His eyes slowly look down my body from my hips to my toes. The moment becomes supercharged, and if I were as wild as Harper, I'd just crawl onto his lap and kiss him.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to waste so much of your time."

"You're not wasting my time, Poppy. You can swing by anytime. Matter of fact, I hope you do."

I dip my chin to hide my smile. "I'll try to."

As I look down, I'm reminded of my outfit. I tug at my stained shirt. "I'll try to look better next time," I reply jokingly.

"You look fine to me," he says in a serious tone that has my body igniting.

Reality comes crashing in as laughter breaks up our conversation. Harper and Kent come back into the apartment. I rush to stand, but before either of them can speak, I swear I hear Julian whisper, "More than fine. You're beautiful." I glance back down at him, but he also avoids my eyes and stands as well.

"We'll be done soon," Kent grins. He and Julian share the same handsome features—the same square jaw, gorgeous as all hell. But Kent's got this polished vibe. His dark hair is styled like he just stepped out of an Armani ad, and his workout gear looks like it belongs on a European soccer star. Julian's more practical, real-world style.

"Done what?" I repeat as I close the distance between Harper and me.

"Getting you all set up."

I glance around Julian's now empty apartment. Where are the other men?

"Are you assembling all my furniture?" I ask in awe and shock, noticing the sound of a drill in the background.

"Yeah. We're good with our hands." Kent smiles and looks at Harper, who flips her hair back and grins at me.

"Did you hear that, Pops? They are really good with their hands." She winks.