1 Chapter 1

1

“Mark!”

If I hadn’t heard the quick knock, I would have jumped at the shout of my name. But instead, I was already up and moving toward the front door as my neighbor let himself into my house. Again. As was his very bad habit that I somehow had not been able to break him of.

Not that I’d tried that hard. But I hadat least tried.

“What are you doing here?” I groused.

Dylan Pomeroy grinned and held up the reusable shopping bag clutched in one fist. He was nearly as tall as me at just under six feet, but far younger. Which was clear by his outfit, which today consisted of wrinkled cargo shorts and a ratty T-shirt with some sort of faded logo plastered across the front.

“It’s Tuesday,” he said brightly as if that somehow answered my question. It didn’t.

“I’m well aware of the day.”

His smile didn’t fade. In fact, I was pretty sure it grew as he padded barefoot—he’d kicked off his flip flops at the door—toward my kitchen. He raised his voice so he could be heard, but he needn’t have since I followed him in.

“You’re always grumpy on Tuesdays.”

I growled. “No, I’m not.”

He hummed and started pulling things out of the bag. Tomatoes and cheese, black olives and salsa and lettuce. “You’re right. You’re extragrumpy on Tuesdays. I think it’s because it’s invoice day. You hate invoice day. Which is why I’m here with—” he flourished his hand over his ingredients, laid out on the island in the middle of the kitchen “—tacos!”

“You have a perfectly good kitchen of your own. In your own house,” I grumbled, then pointed in the direction. “It’s right there. Next house over. Can’t miss it.”

He made his eyes go wide and his bottom lip tremble. “But…but…taco Tuesday.”

I squinted. “Is that even a real thing?”

Dylan laughed, a warm sound that shot through me to settle in my stomach. “It sure is, someone somewhere started it, and everyone in the world jumped on, and now taco Tuesday is absolutely a thing. Just exactly the right thing to cheer up my best friend on his extra grumpy day.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, tightly closing my eyes for a long moment. If I couldn’t see his happy expression, and the way his eyes crinkled, maybe I’d have the strength to turn him away. His eyes were really something, blue but with flecks of green, especially around the pupil. And hell, I shouldn’t know that about him. I shouldn’t know anything about him.

But he’d fascinated me from the moment we’d met, two years ago now. I’d been living next door to his parents for years, and he’d been off at college and then a job he had apparently loved. But when Maxine and Walter Pomeroy decided to retire and move to warmer climes, Dylan had come home and moved into his parents’ house, taking the assistant manager position at the bakery in town.

I’d been pissed at first, mostly because I was sure my quiet life was about to be ruined with loud parties and non-stop socializing next door. He had that frat-boy look about him, with the short dark hair and the disheveled clothing. He was too damn pretty for his own good, too. I’d even started thinking about moving, but it quickly became apparent I’d been wrong.

Dylan had surprised me, by not only being a conscientious neighbor but also a genuinely good guy. We didn’t have that much in common, but that didn’t stop Dylan from striking up a conversation whenever we met. From stopping by with a baked treat on his way home from work to making sure I was doing okay. No matter what I did to gently discourage him, Dylan seemed oblivious. I knew if I truly wanted him to leave me alone, I’d have to downright forbid him from speaking to me

And I just couldn’t do that. Mostly because he was a good guy with a heart of gold, but also because my grumpy ass really enjoyed his company. As long as I didn’t let myself get too attached, I’d be fine. Friends I could do, as long as I didn’t let him get too close.

I sighed, then opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, Dylan let out a triumphant crow. I scowled at him, but he laughed heartily, picked up a serrated knife, and pointed it at me.

“That’s your giving-in sigh right there. I knew I’d win. Now, do you want to help or do you want to go back to fighting with invoices for the next half hour until everything is ready?”

Damn him and his pretty smile and infectious laugh. I grabbed the head of lettuce, then retrieved my own knife and cutting board. While Dylan set to work on the tomatoes, I shredded the lettuce.