Page 7 of Sexy Bad Neighbor

One of the three girls jostling for space on the first step pushes in front of the others. She’s wearing a bright yellow sundress and sandals, dolled up as though she’s auditioning for a role on that bachelor show Bernadette liked to watch. “You’re Paynter.”

“That depends on who’s asking.” I take another slug of water as I run my gaze over the group. There have to be at least thirty, thirty-five women at my door.

“I’m Adeline, and this is my friend Kara.” Another of the three girls pushes herself forward. “We’re here about the advertisement on Craigslist.”

Advertisement on Craigslist? “I think you have the wrong house.”

“Oh no.” She shakes her head. “This was definitely the address.”

“The address for what? I didn’t put any ad on the website. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Wait,” the third says as she opens up a small, bright blue purse. “I have it right here.”

I run my gaze over the line again. There’s a disturbing variety of women waiting for me to acknowledge what’s going on, from the young women on the steps to the woman who is talking about her grandchildren and showing pictures to those around her. I’m pretty sure the tallest one near the mailbox is more than a woman. Most of them speak in hushed tones between themselves.

“I wonder if the house is as big as it looks.”

“I hope he’ll pick me.”

“He’s cute. And those glasses. Don’t you think they make him a little like Clark Kent?”

“Do you think he’s into role playing? I’d love to be Lois Lane to his Superman.”

“I’d let him fly me around the world, if you know what I mean.”

What on earth is going on? Why are these women here?

“Here. I found it.” One of the girls pushes a Samsung Galaxy into my hand.

Wealthy Man Seeks Bride

Wealthy man seeks what? If this is one of Garrett’s stupid attempts to get me back on the dating market, he better be prepared to find himself going prematurely gray over the next month. I bet his dates will love a more distinguished look.

I scan the rest of the content. Sure enough, my name is at the bottom along with my address and a time to meet. And as a last addendum, my ideal, totally unrealistic, and far-fetched woman must be able to iron.

“Uh.” I spike my fingers through my hair as I gaze over the group. Considering what was in the ad, I’m surprised so many of them turned up.

That’s when I notice Chloe in front of her house. She’s made herself at home in a lawn chair, her short, serious skirt tucked neatly around her legs. Back to being prim and proper, I see, and nothing like the cute girl sans makeup I got a good peek at the other day. Smug satisfaction brightens her whole face as she raises a wineglass to her mouth. I fight not to grin back at her. I honestly didn’t think she had it in her to pull off any prank, let alone something like this. Well played. Quite well played.

And the ironing thing? She must have been checking me out that night.

“So are you going to interview us?” the girl in yellow asks.

I bring my attention back to the women in front of me. I could just tell them to leave, that the ad was a joke, but the idea of getting the last laugh from Chloe’s stunt is too tempting to pass up. “Why don’t you all come inside? I’ll whip up some refreshments.”

“You can cook?” one of the girls asks, her eyes lighting up. “The ad didn’t say anything about that.”

“That’s sexy,” another exclaims.

Great, now they’re more excited about being here, and I have no idea how I’m going to break the fact this is a stunt to them when they all look so eager and hopeful.

The line moves quickly into the house. Women giggle and chatter animatedly between themselves.

Three of them stop in the foyer to stare in awe at the ridiculous chandelier.

“That’s a big—”

“Everything about this place is big. Do you think the man himself has something comparable?”

“Oh gosh. It really does look like a guy’s...” Her voice drops to a whisper I don’t hear.

Chloe is no longer looking smug. Actually, her smile has been replaced by a thin line, her shoulders pulling back farther and farther. The last woman enters my house, and I smirk and wave. She’s going to have to do better than this.

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