Page 19 of Tempt Thy Neighbor

Don’t look at her ass. Don’t look at her ass.

By the time I reach the elevator, I’m practically running through the garage. I shove my hand between the doors just in time to take the ride along with her.

She looks irritated when I step in, probably because she was presumably holding down theClose Doorbutton.

Angling her body away from mine, she taps her heeled foot against the floor as she checks the time on the dainty silver watch circling her wrist.

The elevator takes forever just to start up, and I can already tell this is going to be a long ride.

I straighten my jacket and tie, then lean against the other side of the elevator car, watching her unabashedly. Judging by the way her jaw is clenched tightly, I’m certain she can feel my eyes on her.

And I’m certain she doesn’t like it one bit.

I can’t seem to drag my gaze away from her or the knee-length black skirt that hugs her like it was tailored for her curves. A white blouse cuts just low enough to bring attention to her tits without it being inappropriate for the office. And of course it clings to her body in all the right fucking places.

Why can’t she be one of those people who wear frumpy, ill-fitting clothes to the office? Why does she have to look like she’s ready to walk the runway? Especially with those hot pink heels that make her legs look a mile long.

I’ve seen her hair in many shades over the years because she can’t say no to a box of hair dye, but I think the strawberry blonde locks that fall just below her shoulders in effortless waves might be my favorite.

Not that I’d tell her that.

“Why are you here, Sutton?” She doesn’t look at me when she asks this, but I can see her jaw clenching from here.

“I guess you haven’t heard the news, then.”

She gives me a hollow laugh. “Can’t say I’ve really been following the Wells Springs gossip. Don’t have much use for it these days.”

I want to ask her what happened, hear her side of things, but I doubt she’d give me any answers.

“I’m out.”

“You’re out? Of what—brain cells? Yeah, that I knew.”

I ignore her dig. “Of the family.”

She snorts. “You make it sound like the mafia or something.”

Fuck. With the way my dad has his hands in every pot and the way people bow at his feet and shake with fear when he’s in the room, yeah, sometimes it feels that way.

“Let’s just say the puppet cut the strings in a very dramatic fashion, and the puppet master wasn’t pleased, so he tossed out the trash.”

She finally glances my way, her brows inching higher. “You’re being serious.”

“Yep.”

“So you, what, live here now?”

“Yep.”

“In Harristown?”

“And you accused me of not having brain cells.” She narrows her eyes at my quip. “Yes, I live here now.”

“And your family…you’re out?”

I nod, and she runs that through her mind. She knows what being a Barnes means: family first, and you don’t walk away from family.

“Your father…”

---