Chapter 1
Kate
“Mmm,”Imoanas the hot coffee assaults my taste buds—a combination of sweet cream, salted caramel, and heaven.
I crane my neck from side to side as the caffeine runs through my veins. Mornings aren’t really my thing, but with a cup or two or three, I think I can handle anything thrown at me.
I bring the mug down as I lean against the pillar of my front porch. It may be a simple one compared to my brother Kyler’s in-laws’ home in Annapolis, but this is perfect. When I first pulled up to the address on the listing, I instantly fell in love with the front porch.
My mind takes me back in time to when I dragged my twin sister, Lauren, to see the house for the very first time.
“Why would you want to live here? It’s so big. You realize you have to clean this by yourself. Mom won’t clean up after you anymore,” Lauren said as she took in the large empty house.
A house I planned to make my home.
I threw my head back in laughter. “Mom hasn’t cleaned up after me in years.” I looked around and sighed. “Can’t you see it? I could have a bookcase over there with all the books you buy me but I never intend to read. A couch against this wall with the television hanging there.” I pointed to the wall opposite where we stood. “When the lighting is right, I could set up my easel here and paint the neighborhood. If not, then I have a whole room upstairs that I plan to set up as a studio. It has a window facing the west so I can paint the sunsets. With the large backyard, I could have everyone over and have room for the kids to play. It’s perfect.”
I watched my sister as she wrapped her arms around her waist and nibbled her bottom lip. Was she seeing the same vision I did?
“Woah, kids? Have you given it more thought since—”
I waved my hand to cut her off. “No.” I shrugged. “But one day, Kyler might meet someone he wants to settle down with. Or who knows, maybe you will have little bookworms running around.”
Lauren smiled, however, it didn’t reach her eyes anymore. She might not admit it, but I knew she was still healing her broken heart. Closing the distance between us, she threw her arm around my shoulder and rested her head against mine. “I think it’s perfect, sissy.”
Shaking myself out of the memory, I can’t help but smile, realizing that it will all become a reality soon since my brother and his wife are expecting twins—the Lawson Twins 2.0, as I’ve nicknamed them. He is the first of us to start a family, but I’m sure Lauren won’t be far behind now that she and her high school sweetheart, Finn, reunited after spending ten years apart and recently tied the knot.
And then there’s me, the cool Aunt Kate, ready to spoil her nieces and nephews with presents, never tell them no, and sugar them up before sending them home to their parents.
Notice how I said their kids. I’ve known from an early age that family life wasn’t for me. It’s not like I haven’t met a man I could see myself settling down with. Okay, maybe that is true. I have quite a dating history—it’s often a topic of my siblings’ conversations—but all that history contains is a bunch of fuddy-duddies not worthy of a second date. Maybe a man for me is out there, but I enjoy having fun with no strings and leave the falling in love to my siblings.
I adjust the sleeves of my hoodie. The closer we get to fall, the brisker the mornings are. Between my oversized hoodie, my hat, and the aviators blocking the sun from my eyes, I could easily be mistaken for the Unabomber.
I’m mentally going over my to-do list for the day before going over to my sister’s house for a cook-out when movement across the street catches my attention.
New neighbors just moved in yesterday. I haven’t met them yet but can only hope they are just as nice as the previous neighbors, the Lassiters. They were the sweetest couple, who recently moved to be closer to their grandkids.
What a great first impression I’m going to make—looking like hell under this hat and in dire need of a shower. I lean down and catch a whiff of myself. Well, at least I don’t smell like I’ve been hanging out in a dumpster, and the sunglasses hide the terrible bags under my eyes. Between helping pull off my sister’s surprise wedding and, well, just life in general, I’ve been working my ass off.
However, when I look up for the first glance of the new neighbors, it’s not an adult I’m greeted with on the front porch but a little boy wearing pajamas. He can’t be older than five. For sure, he is younger than the kids my sister teaches. He’s looking around, and I follow his gaze, hoping I see his parents. Maybe I just missed them walking out before, but I come up empty.
He grabs the railing and walks down the steps to the front yard. A million different scenarios are running through my brain. Maybe he came out to look for someone to help because there’s something wrong. Maybe his parents are having a medical emergency and he doesn’t know how to dial 911. Even worse, what if they forgot the kid at home alone? Hey, it happens. The father thinks the mother is taking the kid to day care. Next thing you know, they’re all over the news because the kid died. Okay, so maybe that’s an extreme scenario, but I have seen Home Alone plenty of times.
By the time the boy reaches the bottom step, I’ve already set my coffee down. My mind is in a frenzy as I make my way down my sidewalk to make sure he’s okay.
I freeze midstep and gasp, “Holy shit,” under my breath. He’s pulling his pajama pants and underwear down and peeing against a small tree in his front yard.
What in the actual fuck?
I grew up with a younger brother, but I don’t remember Kyler ever walking outside to pee. Peeing outside to avoid having to go back inside, sure, but not specifically walking out to do so.
I freeze and slide my aviators down my nose to make sure I’m seeing what I’m seeing for sure and it’s not just my mind playing tricks on me. If it is my mind, the least it could do is make me believe Chris Hemsworth is professing his love toward me and not a child that may be in danger. I wait for a moment for his parents to walk out, but once again, there’s no one.
The little boy has finally finished his business and pulled his pajama pants back up by the time I make it to the edge of the sidewalk. He rushes back inside without a second glance.
I grip the back of my neck, stuck at a crossroads. Do I ignore it, or should I at least let his parents know that he just walked out the front door? I mean, unless he’s being raised by a bunch of Neanderthals who purposely teach him to do that, they should be made aware. After all, he was lucky that it was just me out here and not some creeper driving by. Yeah, that settles it. I continue my walk toward the house.
It’s a shame that I’m meeting the new neighbors under these circumstances.
When I’m halfway up his front yard, a tall man emerges from the front door, carrying a large trash bag in his hand. Forget Chris Hemsworth—he has nothing on this man. Yep, I’m definitely regretting introducing myself now.
It should be illegal to be that gorgeous. I’d say he’s around six feet of deliciousness wearing dark jeans, black work boots, and a black fitted T-shirt that wraps around his bulging biceps. I’m close enough to notice a light coating of stubble lining his jaw, and I just want to run my fingers over it to feel the roughness on my skin… or on my thighs.