Page 27 of Stealing Second

“A keg’s blown, and she needs to go change it.”

I cock my head to the side. “Your employees at your bar don’t know how to change a keg?”

“It’s complicated,” she says as Francesca takes her hand and pulls her away.

“Good night. We’ll text you,” Francesca calls as they scurry away.

“What the hell?” I think out loud, and then puppy yaps come from behind me.

I turn and see Rome on the edge of the property line, picking up more puppy poo.

“Any tips on how to train her to shit in her own yard?” he asks, obviously frustrated.

I cave. “Just make sure she doesn’t go in my flowerbeds and clean it up.”

“Thanks, Red,” he says as the girls pull out of my driveway, both smiling. “You’ll have to show me the property line when the sun’s up.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Just trying to avoid crossing any boundaries.”

My eyes narrow, and he chuckles.

“See that, Red? We’re being neighborly.” He smirks.

“Uh-huh,” I agree skeptically.

He ties off the bag, tosses it over into his yard, and starts toward me.

When we are within a foot of each other, he smiles, and it’s genuine and beautiful. It also makes my core clench. The slight flare of his nostrils tells me he’s aware.

He swallows hard and clears his throat. “Let’s start over, yeah?”

I lift a noncommittal shoulder. “I mean, sure.”

“Cecilia, it’s nice to meet you. My name’s Roman, and I bought the place next door. If you ever need anything—a cup of sugar, an egg, someone to jump your vehicle in the morning, or anything else you could possibly desire—all you have to do is knock.” He holds out his hand for me to shake it.

There is a great possibility that if I touch it, I’ll end up doing something as inappropriate as I did last night, so I step back. “Pleasure to officially meet you, Roman.” Roman … “However, I’ve watched you stimulate a bum and pick up poop without washing your hands, so …” I leave it there.

He fights a smile, but it’s there in his eyes. “Understood. Thank you for the help with the pup.”

“She deserves a better name,” I remind him.

He nods. “She does.”

Once the kitchen is cleaned up, I head into the living room, basically forcing myself to avoid the temptation of looking out the window and hoping to see Hot Neighbor/Gym Bro, who has a seriously sexy name now.

Roman.

I’ve just turned on the TV when my doorbell chimes.

I grab my phone, click the app, and see Roman.

Pushing up off the comfy couch, I swallow back the giant lump in my throat and try to will my heartbeat to slow down as I make my way to the back door. I open it, and to my surprise, he closes his eyes and grips the doorframe.

“I don’t do this. I don’t knock on a woman’s door and tell her I think she’s fucking beautiful, and funny, and so refreshingly cool.” He exhales a slow breath. “I don’t.”

I wrap my arms around my center and nod.

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