Page 5 of Three Wickedly Bad Neighbors and a Very Grumpy Girl

“We got this, Benny,” Porter says as he walks up to the girl in the robe, places his hands on her waist, lifts her off the chair, and sets her on her feet.

“Do you mind? You’re scaring our guests,” Porter says. Of the three of us, Porter is the most serious and has the driest humor.

“Guests?” she shrieks, stumbling a little when Porter releases her. She recovers quickly, slapping his helping hand away before cinching her waist tighter with another knot in her belt.

“They’re not guests. They’re house crashers. It’s literally a crime.”

“Again, we own this property,” Sullivan says, grinning.

“Oh, you must really think I’m gullible. Do I look stupid to you?”

“No, a little grumpy, maybe. Hey, stay, have a drink. You look like you could loosen up a little.” I can’t help myself. Getting her even more riled up just makes her even more fucking gorgeous.

“I do not need loosening up,” she says, clearly affronted, as if I had just told her puppy was ugly. “I have a very big day tomorrow and I need to get some sleep.”

“Oh, yeah. What’s going on?” I ask cocky as ever.

“That is none of your business.”

“Well, we have a big day tomorrow as well, that’s why we’re having a party tonight,” Sullivan says.

“Do you have no consideration for the elderly people who live around here?”

“You mean Mr. Williams and Aunt Maggie? Trust me, they don’t mind the noise at all. You really should stay; it’s a neighborhood party, and everyone is invited.”

Her eyes, up close, are golden orbs flanked with thick dark eyelashes that widen at the sight of her octogenarian neighbors having shots with a bunch of girls.

“Oh my god. They’re on blood pressure medication, you idiots,” she yells, then makes her way over to them and drags them out against their will.

They didn’t tell us that.

“This isn’t over,” she calls over her shoulder, struggling to hold on to an elderly person on either side of her.

“Are you going to call the cops?” Sullivan shouts. “Because we’re going to party all night, straight into Sunday afternoon.”

“You think I can’t get you to leave on my own? You don’t know who you’re going up against, buddies,” she says.

“We would absolutely love to see you try,” I say, knowing for a fact Sullivan and Porter are thinking the exact same thing.

She huffs her way out, but fuck if those weren’t the truest words we’ve spoken. Actually, we can’t fucking wait to see what she comes up with next. And why the hell does the thought of seeing her again make our cocks hard?

Just how fucked are we?

?Chapter Five

Avery

What in the world? I’ve just met three of the most arrogant, obnoxious, egotistical male specimens of my life, all at once.

I say that after being in their company for less than ten minutes.

I finally get Mr. Williams and Aunt Maggie tucked into their respective beds in their respective houses, and the music is back up again.

Ugh! Insufferable.

Did they really think I was gullible enough to believe they owned the house? The sheer arrogance. Their guests—more like their fellow bandits—might believe them, but I know a scoundrel when I see one, and I saw three.

I glare out the window and curse them again. I’m never going to get any shut-eye. I’d have to be dead to sleep with all this noise. And if I don’t, I’m going to look like a raccoon on my first day. Ugh.

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