I shouldn’t care one way or another but for some reason I was pleased he wasn’t going to hold a grudge. I placed my palm against my chest. “I’m so relieved.”
He chuckled. “And for future reference, you don’t need to create such a dramatic excuse to hit on me.” He cocked his head as if he were waiting for my reaction.
I really hoped he was joking. As he held my gaze, his eyebrows pulsed upward, convincing me he was just teasing at the same time as making my stomach flip.
“Right,” I said, nodding. “Because swearing at guys is my favorite flirting technique.”
He chuckled. “You really think I was in danger?”
“You think I generally scream at strangers?”
“Good to know you singled me out for special attention.” His glance slid from my eyes to my mouth and back up.
“You seem pretty good at attracting the wrong sort of attention.” I folded my arms.
He shrugged. “I’ve clearly lived in LA too long and forgotten what real weather is.”
Ah, California sounded about right. He had the body and the face for it. He was probably “working on getting into the business,” which really meant he was working at getting drunk each night and sleeping all day. I’d dated a guy like that for a few weeks in New York. I really couldn’t trust my heart.
“So, you’re my neighbor,” he said.
“Apparently so. You here on vacation?”
He paused for a second and I couldn’t figure out whether it was because he didn’t want to tell me the truth, or because he wasn’t a sharer. “Business and pleasure.”
The twinkle in his eye told me everything I needed to know. This man was definitely not gay. Not the way he made my insides fizz and pop. His expression made it clear he was used to making girls swoon. I just nodded, praying I wasn’t blushing under his attention.
“You didn’t tell me your name earlier.” He swept his eyes up and down my body and then fixed me with his stare. The way he looked at me made everything he said seem so outrageously flirtatious, as if he were picturing me naked.
“Lana.” I tried to sound matter-of-fact, as if his presence wasn’t affecting me at all, as if I didn’t feel this pull toward him. I wanted to write him off as a pretty boy, but something about him made me want to get a little closer.
“As in Turner? Beautiful,” he said, his eyes dazzling. “It suits you.”
“Lana Kelly. But thanks.” I waited for him to tell me his name, all the while trying not to stare at his hard, golden brown chest.
“Oh,” he said when he realized I was waiting. “I’m Matt.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Matt. I co-own the cottage you’re staying in, so if you need anything, let me know.”
He jerked his head back to the house as if he were expecting it to have disappeared since he’d walked over. He turned back to me. “You left me the gummy bears?” he asked with a grin.
I leaned against the banister. “Yeah, sorry. I got mixed up and thought a family was staying.”
He smiled as though he was in on some secret he’d not told me about yet. “I don’t get the opportunity to eat shit like that very often, so thank you.” He stared at me so intensely that I glanced toward the ocean. “That’s two things I owe you for.”
“So you live here?” he asked, and I faced him again. His eyes fixed on me, pinning me to the spot. He seemed to take up more space than most people, as if he had command of the air around him. Maybe it was just because he seemed so sure of himself.
“Yeah. I’ve been in Worthington my entire life, but I’ve had this place a couple of years.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets, broke eye contact with me then looked up at me from under his lashes with a stare that made my whole body shiver and my skin tighten.
This man was dangerous.
“Actually, there is something you could do for me.” His eyebrows pulsed upward and he gave me a half smile.
God knew what he was imagining I might do. I bet this man flirted with his own mother. “What’s that?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral. I couldn’t decide whether his outrageous self-confidence was annoying or justified. Maybe just annoyingly justified.
“I wanted to get the burner to light, but I couldn’t find any matches. Do you have any?”
Didn’t men like him normally have stoves magically ignite for them? “I’m sorry. They should have been provided.” I turned and climbed the steps back up to the deck. “I’ll just go and get them,” I called over my shoulder.
The screen door creaked and snapped shut behind me. Why was it when I met a man as handsome and almost-naked as Matt, I was wearing yoga pants and no makeup?
Not that it mattered. I wasn’t interested in impressing him anyway. In fact, just the opposite.
I found the matches and headed back out. Matt had made his way up onto the porch and was leaning on the railing, facing the door, his arms folded over his chest. Now that we were on the same level, it was clear just how tall he was. Way above six feet.
The fading light caught in his messy, dirty-blond hair, and I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to stop fireworks igniting inside me. I stepped outside and held out my hand. Without breaking eye contact, he reached out to take the matches.
“Thanks.” He paused but it seemed like he had something more to say. “We should have a glass of wine one night,” he suggested. “It seems . . . neighborly.”
“Does it?” I asked, tilting my head to one side.
“In a town like this? I think so.” He pushed himself off the railing and suddenly he was too close for a stranger. “Bring a friend if you like. Boyfriend. Girlfriend. Whatever floats your boat.”
I shook my head. Men like him were incorrigible. They just assumed they could have everything they wanted without working for it. I couldn’t admit to being single. He’d take that as if I was returning his advances. Which I wasn’t.
“Thanks,” I said and he moved away, the breeze making me aware of the gap between us. He jogged down the stairs.
“I’m here alone.” He nodded. “And relaxing by myself all weekend if you want to drop by.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile.
I grabbed my tray of art supplies and watched as Matt strode back toward the cottage. Probably for a shower—not that I was imagining that or anything.
I sighed and awkwardly pulled the screen door open with my foot before heading inside. The light was fading and my bed was calling.
A little bit of TV before bed would keep my mind off my neighbor. It was nice to be flirted with. Flattering to be noticed by a man like Matt. It did not mean Mrs. Wells had been right. He’d just rented the cottage next door, and the storm tonight had passed.
Five
Matt
Five o’clock in the morning was too fucking early. But I wanted to fit in a run before the car came at six. As I got to the entrance to the park I stared at the bandstand and smirked. Who’d have thought that the beautiful, tempting girl I’d mistaken as a stalker not only didn’t seem to have a clue who I was, but would end up being my neighbor while I was in Maine?