Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Julian

I'll admit I haven't laughed so hard in a very long time. Harper is crazy, reckless even. What she did in the Uber was next-level funny and stupid. I'm just happy it turned out the way it did, which is becoming a memorable story.

I just don't like the idea that there could have been another outcome involving my new neighbor.

Hell…the girl across my hall is stunning. I just can't seem to take my eyes off of her. It's like there's an invisible rope attached to me, and she keeps tugging it.

Harper and Poppy walk slightly in front of us as we walk through the crowded street to the bar. My eyes are glued to Poppy's ass which is swaying with each step.

A bead of sweat rolls down my face, which I quickly swipe away. The night air, despite its darkness, retains a sinfully hot embrace. It reminds me of when I was still on Delta Force and a mission in the South American rainforest.

Heck, I hated that one. I'd take on a grown man armed to the teeth any day, but snakes I fucking hate.

Speaking of taking on guys in hand-to-hand combat, every man Harper and Poppy pass can't help but pivot their eyes toward them. Harper, ever aware of the attention, carries herself with an air of knowing. Poppy, on the other hand, seems either oblivious or exceptionally skilled at ignoring the stares.

"Does your jaw hurt?" Kent asks, breaking into my thoughts.

Distracted, I tear my gaze from Poppy's figure. "What?" I respond a bit too sharply.

Kent points to my face, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Your jaw. Does it hurt? It's been hanging open this entire time. I think you left a trail of drool." He playfully shoves my shoulder. "Jesus, man, you've got to up your game. You're older than me, for Christ's sake. Play it cool. You look like a dog desperate to run up to Poppy's leg and start humping it. I know the Army can lead to dry spells, but you look downright rabid."

"Fuck you," I snap, the irritation bubbling inside me as I shove him back, his words hitting too close to home.

Kent elbows me, a mischievous smirk on his face. "You lucky bastard, she's your neighbor too. That's like having a built-in booty call."

"No one is having sex," I hiss, the words escaping through gritted teeth like steam through a tightly sealed valve. There's a visceral reaction within me at the thought of my brother casually lumping Poppy into the same category as those he usually hooks up with. It's unsettling, like a jagged stone in my shoe, persistent and irritating.

I don't want her discussed like that.

"I am," Kent nudges his chin, "Look how fine Harper's ass is, and she's funny too."

I roll my eyes, a gesture betraying my inner conflict. Why am I even here? I had made it explicitly clear to Kent: no more clubs, bars, or blind dates. Yet, everything shifted the moment I laid eyes on my new neighbor. My first thought was a simple, stunned realization: 'Holy shit, she's beautiful.' Not in an untouchable runway model way, but in a more tangible, girl-next-door manner. She's effortlessly stunning, the kind of person you could see yourself hanging out with and then gradually falling for without even realizing it. She's exactly the type of girl I should avoid, considering my firm decision to steer clear of dating for now.

But there was something about her that caught my eye, and I refused to let go. Then I saw it – the fear in her wide, expressive eyes, triggering every protective instinct in me. Each hair on my body stood on end as if I were a warrior ready to rush into battle to chase away whatever was causing her anxiety.

That moment, when I saw the worry in Poppy's eyes as Harper confronted those careless movers, something inside me snapped. I couldn't just stand back. I had to intervene. It was instinctive, a deep-seated need, one I hadn't recognized in myself until I looked into her eyes.

Then she fainted, and I caught her. Despite the searing pain in my shoulder, I knew I'd endure it a thousand times over for her. In my arms, she felt small, light, fragile, and innocent – a stark contrast to everything I'd known and experienced for so long. Pure.

Just one look at Poppy, and it's clear – she's the 'good girl,' the kind you're proud to bring home to your mom. And yet, the last thing I need right now is a relationship. Poppy, of all people, should be the last one I consider; she's my neighbor, for heaven's sake.

You don't shit where you eat. If things go south, then I'd be stuck living across from her.

It's a nightmare.

I need to sort out my life first, and then maybe, just maybe, I'll consider dating again if I want to.

Does sex count as dating? Kent would say no, but my conscience says yes.

But here I am, walking into a bar with her, unable to keep my eyes from drifting toward my new neighbor. Yeah, she is stunning with a petite, curvy body that I want in my bed. Screw it, I want her laid out all over my apartment. I'm getting hard just thinking about it.

Her splash of freckles makes me think of a warm summer's day you never want to end. Her hazel eyes look like honey poured over her skin, waiting for me to lick it off. It's those honey-filled eyes and full, pouty lips that captivate me.

How her lips part when they look up at me intrigues me, and that fact keeps my mind off my messed-up shoulder and new job as CEO.

Maybe Kent is right; all this chemistry is just months of pent-up hard-ons. My career just made weekly hookups impossible.

The problem is I don't know what the heck I'm doing with my life anymore. My career has changed, and so has my restraint. I counted five guys hesitating as Poppy walked by—five guys I wanted to punch for looking at her.

"I'll get us drinks," I bark to Kent, breaking from the group without waiting for a reply. What the heck! What is wrong with me? Why do I feel like an animal wanting to mark her so all these jerks stop looking at her?

This was a mistake. I should have stayed home and focused on unpacking and getting ready to wear a suit.

I order drinks but forget I'm down an arm, so a waitress has to help me carry them to our table. By the time I sit down, I want to leave, but I want to have Poppy thrown over my shoulder when I do so.

Maybe I just need a good fuck so I can focus.

I down half my drink on the first sip. Kent gives me a look from the corner of his eyes. I'm not a binge drinker, and he knows it.

Poppy hasn't said one word; the bar is clearly making her uncomfortable. Harper carries the conversation and continually tries to include Poppy. I can see why they're friends; they are opposites, where Poppy is weak, Harper is strong, and vice versa. In a way, they remind me of Kent and myself. My relationship with my older brother, Theo, is vastly different. He's always been secluded and quiet, the opposite of Kent. I'm a mix of both of them.

"Oh shoot!" Harper gasps as her drink spills over.

There are no napkins to clean it up. Kent's hands dart out and begin to pat down her clothing. His hands roam longer than the liquid that splashed her did, "It's okay. I'll get someone to clean it up and get you a new drink," he offers.

"I'll come with you." Harper stands as she wipes some of the spilled drink off her dress.

"So," Poppy clears her throat, braving to talk again once we're alone, "Are you originally from Texas?"

I nod and grab my beer. "Born and raised. How about you?"

"North Carolina." She replies, and her eyes look past my shoulder as if haunted by a ghost standing behind me. I follow her stare to see a guy looking at her at the bar; he's dressed like he's going to play golf with a navy blue collared shirt, brown hair, and a sleazy grin. She hugs her arms around herself as she shifts in her seat.

"Do you know him?" I ask as I shift on my stool to block his view from her. Back of fucker!

"No."

Good, then you won't care if I kill him for looking at you.

"Are you sure?" I ask when her eyes linger longer than I like.

She finally looks away from the man, "Yeah, he just reminded me of someone."

Well, I don't like the memories his face dragged up.

She unwraps her hands and leans closer to me; I feel her breath whisper over my cheek like a summer breeze cooling me off. My nostrils flare.

Fuck she smells good. Did she use that pumpkin spice body wash? Did she use it everywhere?

"I don't like crowds, or bars, or parties. I'm more of a quiet restaurant kind of girl. Please don't tell Harper that, though."

She pulls away, and I'm left with a flurry of questions. First, I don't like that she is doing something that makes her uncomfortable to please her friend.

"Why can't you tell Harper?"

"I'm trying to be the person I used to be." She bites her bottom lip, which is coated with a clear gloss.

"Life is about moving forward, not backward."

Poppy flashes a sad smile, "Harper said something similar."

"Why not tell her you don't like crowds then?"

She grabs her beer and plays with the glass, and I imagine her fingers playing with my body, "Well, if I were a good neighbor, I'd tell you it has nothing to do with pleasing Harper. Harper likes to drag me out of my comfort zone, but she knows my limits."

I lean closer, "So why did you come then?"

"If I were being an honest neighbor, I'd tell you I came because I wanted to see you." She keeps her eyes on the glass, too shy to look my way. It's adorable.

She did something that made her uncomfortable all because she wanted to see me. Shit! That makes me feel both guilty and thrilled.

"Well, as a good neighbor myself, I'd tell you that next time, we will have drinks in a place that makes you comfortable, but I am happy you came." It's not a lie. I feel like I'm a teenager again; I'm confused, nervous, and excited that the girl I'm interested in likes me.

She flips her long auburn hair over her shoulder, and I get hit with that spiced floral scent again.

Screw the consequences. I like my neighbor; I like her a lot, and I'm going to explore those feelings. If things go south, I'll deal with the aftermath later. I can always move.

"Did you use it?" I ask. All the blood leaves my brain and flows south. My dick is in control, and he has to get his answers.

Her brows inch up, "Use what?"

"The shower gel." My eyes roam over her delicious-scented body.

What does it make her taste like?

Her face grows beet red, "You can't ask me that." She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip.

I grab my beer, raise it to my hungry lips, and grin, "I'm asking as a friendly neighbor, Pumpkin. Friends can ask those sorts of questions." I grin. "Can I borrow some sugar? What body wash did you use? Etc."

She tilts her head, trying to look all serious. I've seen her make the same face towards Harper when she is trying to make her civilized.

"Don't you dare start calling me that." She grabs her drink and takes a sip, trying to hide her smirk.

"I can call you Pumpkin puss puss instead," I smirk as I watch her react. She jerks, and her drink spits out from her mouth and onto the table.

A laugh slips free as my abs clench. She's adorable. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist." I edge closer. I can't resist a lot when it comes to you, Poppy.

"That was evil, but Harper would approve." She wipes her mouth and tries to cover a grin.

I shake my head, "I think that's the perfect nickname for you."

"What's the perfect nickname?" Harper shouts as she and Kent slide back into their seats. I don't miss how Harper's lips look redder and swollen. I eye my brother.

"Pumpkin." I smile. "Or did you want to tell them the other option?" I ask Poppy.

Poppy narrows her eyes on me, but her lips are curved up. "You just wait until I come up with a nickname for you, neighbor," she playfully warns.

I rest my good elbow on the table, "I'm patient. I'll wait as long as you need," I state.

"Oh!" Harper gasps, "I knew I liked you, Julian." She grabs her drink and takes a sip.

I smirk at Harper. Something tells me Harper's opinion weighs heavy for Poppy.

When I look at Poppy, her face changes; the red flush to her cheeks flees like a rabbit escaping a wolf's jaws. Something about my words didn't settle well with her. I meant it as a good intention; I am patient. But the way her eyes ghost over tells me someone must have said something similar to her, but for whatever reason, it caused her an immense amount of grief.

"So when are you moving off to Texas?" Kent questions Harper, who casually sips her drink. It's straight-up whisky, neat, which completely throws me off. In my mind, Harper would have ordered a stereotypical pink, sugary cocktail — the kind that's more about the presentation than the substance.

Poppy isn't listening; her eyes drift back toward the direction where the man at the bar is standing.

"I'm not moving to Texas; I'm still trying to convince Poppy to move to Maryland with me. I failed, but I never give up." Harper swings her arm around Poppy's shoulders, tugging her closer and finally snapping Poppy out of her trance.

My neck stiffens. I grab my beer and swallow a sip, but I taste nothing. Why the heck does the idea of Poppy moving far away irritate me? It would feel like I just stumbled upon a treasure map but didn't get to go on the adventure.

How can I resist pumpkin spice? When we eavesdropped on that conversation, I was feral. Lust took over, and it's still inside my body, tingling my fingertips. I've thought about tasting and licking every inch of her pumpkin-scented body.

I run my fingers through my hair, but even that movement causes a strain against my mending wounds.

"Maryland?" Kent replies with a lopsided grin, "I go to Maryland for work sometimes."

"Really?" Harper purrs as she flicks her blonde hair back. "What do you do for work?"

I don't know why they bother with the small talk. A fool could predict what would happen; a wise man would know neither is the relationship type. Just get down to business and fuck already.

"I'm the CMO for our family business. My family uses my face to sell the goods. It's a hard and thankless task, but someone has to do it." Kent fakes exhaustion.

When Kent isn't at work, he's a total playboy, making jokes and pulling pranks. But the most surprising fact is when he is working, he's ruthless and gets the contract signed no matter what. My baby brother has landed billion-dollar contracts that other companies can only dream of. He should be CEO, not me. This facade of being a goofy playboy makes Dad not trust him to run the company.

That's why Kent does it. None of us want to be CEO because we will never live up to what our dad wants. Ever since my mom died, Dad just turned cold. He loves us with all his broken heart, but he's never happy, never smiles.

"So you're just a pretty face?" Harper challenges, "That's a shame." Her eyes looked around the bar. "I like an intelligent head, along with a pretty face." She responds with a devilish grin.

Jesus, that girl is a dangerous one. Kent might have met his match. Most girls Kent brings home will just nod and smile, Harper is my brother in his dream female's body, and Kent would like nothing more than to fuck the female version of himself.

"Here we go." Poppy mumbles.

"Is she always like that?" I whisper to Poppy. I slyly try to edge my stool closer to hers.

Poppy raises a brow. "This is conservative."

"Hey," Kent leans closer to Harper, grasping her chin and bringing his face almost nose to nose with hers, "Keep those wandering eyes focused right here, baby. I've got the prettiest face and the most impressive head."

"Fuck off, Kent," I grumble. Jesus, he's a new level of embarrassment. I land a hard kick to his shin under the table that should have him limping for at least a day.

Kent reaches out and smacks my back right on my bandage.

I grind my teeth.

"Oh, crap. Sorry, bro, I keep forgetting about that."

Kent hasn't forgotten I'm broken; he's still upset I put myself in this situation in the first place. Every accidental hit and pat is his way of making me feel the suffering he felt while I was gone.

"What do you do, Julian?" Harper asks, but her blue eyes remain on my brother.

"Jay here is the brain; he's the CEO, and our older brother Theo is basically Batman; he lives in a cave," Kent chuckles. I laugh, too, because he's not far off.

Poppy's forehead furrows, "An actual cave? Like spelunking?"

She knows what spelunking is. Another box is checked. Careful, Poppy. You might rank as my dream girl.

I shake my head. "Theo is an engineer and leads our technology development department," I reply. Then, I try to change the subject. The last thing I want to do is talk about work. I want to get to know Poppy better. I want to hear it from her lips and not others.

"What about you?" I ask.

Poppy grabs her beer, taking a small, teasing sip. The sight of the amber liquid glossing her lips is tantalizing, and when her tongue flicks out to catch a stray droplet, it hits me hard. I feel a visceral jolt so intense that I almost lose it right there.

Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I try to control the rush of raw desire coursing through me.

"I took Business Administration in college, so I am still trying to discover my path. I worked in reception for three years, but I just got a job as a Personal Assistant. I like to organize and manage schedules; it relaxes me."

"That's perfect." Kent adds, "Julian was a soldier, so he is used to taking orders. Just boss him around, and he'll comply."

I'm going to kill him. Slowly.

Poppy tries to hide her giggle with another sip of beer. At least she is used to the horrible jokes because Harper has no problem dishing them out.

"If you need something organized, labeled, or rearranged to flow smoothly, Pops is your girl." Harper spins her barstool towards Poppy. "She is going to be amazing." She grins at her friend with such pride.

"Remember those thousand-piece puzzles we used to have as kids? We were all losing our minds, but Poppy was like a puzzle ninja, slicing through them with the patience of a saint. Absolutely astounding!"

"So you're not a saint then?" Kent probes.

"Please. Sinners have much more fun." Harper bats her lashes.

Poppy waves her hand, "I'm nothing compared to Harper. She was recruited out of college because her hacking skills are next level." She boasts.

"Hacking?" Kent's brows inch up to his hairline.

"When she said she liked a pretty face with an impressive head, she was referring to herself," Poppy chides, "She is beauty and brains." She continues to wax poetic about Harper. The shock on Kent's face is priceless. For once, he is silenced, giving us all a break from his comments.

I'll admit I'm shocked, too. Just goes to show you can't judge a book by the cover, especially when the cover looks like Harper and acts so goofy.

I can tell my brother is impressed, but more than that, there's a shift in his eyes. Harper puts on a front of being a flirtatious bimbo, but it's a mask covering up her biggest secrets: she's an impressive, dangerous nerd. A cunning player that my brother wants to challenge. I see it now.

Poppy uses Harper as a shield, deflecting attention towards her friend. People deflect because they don't want attention focused on them; it could be because they are shy, insecure, or carrying a secret.

I wonder which is Poppy's reason?