Page 8 of Breaking Free

When she reached for the bag, which thankfully hadn’t busted open, to give it another go, hands brushed hers aside.

“I’ll get it.”

Startled, Piper quickly turned, relieved to see someone she knew—sort of. In the waning light of evening, she watched her handsome next-door-neighbor’s arm and shoulder muscles flex as he hefted both her trash bags effortlessly onto the pile.

“Thank you,” she said, grateful that the two bags had stayed on top. “This is the second time you’ve come to my rescue.”

When he didn’t comment, she kept going. “It’s Tristan, right? I wanted to apologize again for the parking space issue. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, tossing his bag onto the pile.

Searching for another topic to fill the awkward void in conversation, she recalled a notice she saw on the community activities board by the mailboxes. “I hear there’s a complex-wide pool party the weekend after next. It sounds like a great opportunity for me to meet people. Are you planning to go?”

“Probably not. I don’t attend many of the social activities.”

Piper felt a twinge of disappointment when he barely glanced her way and walked off without saying another word. Despite his abrupt exit, she couldn’t help but admire his broad shoulders and lean hips in another snug black T-shirt and faded jeans as he took the stairs two at a time.

When he disappeared inside, she let out a sigh. Clearly, he wasn’t interested in getting to know her. Or perhaps he was still annoyed.

She glanced down at her casual, evening-at-home outfit of a cropped top, shorts, and flip-flops. It wasn’t exactly haute couture, especially with her hair in a messy bun. She reached up to brush back the numerous escaped strands but had to shoo away several flies. Forgetting to breathe through her nose, she got another strong whiff.

“Who lingers next to a trash dumpster for small talk?” she asked herself, hurriedly following in Tristan’s wake.

But as she climbed the steps, one by one, she had to acknowledge that most people with the slightest bit of friendliness and manners would have at least said good night.

“Isn’t it just my luck? I move in next to an attractive single man, and he only acknowledges my existence when I annoy him.”

“Piper?”

She whirled at her name. Hunter was climbing the steps behind her, and she hadn’t noticed until he’d spoken.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes. You heard me talking to myself. How embarrassing.”

“If I had, I wouldn’t be uncouth enough to mention it,” he said with a teasing grin. His gaze shifted to her door. “Are you settling in?”

“Actually, I’m settled. I just hauled the last of my trash to the dumpster. I have some recycling to take to the center, but that’s it.”

Leaning against the railing, he smiled up at her. “I’m impressed. I have boxes in storage from a move four years ago.”

“They say after six months you’re supposed to toss it because you don’t really need it.”

“I’ve heard that, but I’ve gotta admit I’m a bit of a hoarder. I couldn’t sleep at night if I tossed a receipt for a two-sizes-too-small pair of jeans I bought in 2018.”

She laughed. “I’ve got the opposite problem. I can’t sleep at night if there’s clutter.”

“Have you eaten? I’m starved, but I haven’t been to the store in forever. We could grab a bite and get to know one another better.”

Her stomach lurched. Was his offer a casual bite between new neighbors, or was he interested in more? Good grief, maybe he’d heard her comment about the attractive single guy next door and thought she meant him.

“I’ve had a really long day. Check that. A really long week, and it’s only Tuesday. Another time, maybe?”

“Definitely,” he agreed with a grin that suggested he wanted more of a date than a friendly dinner.

She quickly but gently dispossessed him of the idea she was interested. “Being new to Santa Monica, I’m eager to grow my circle of friends, especially ones close by who I can depend on.”

“Right. Friends,” he drawled, disappointment in his tone.

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