Page 8 of Three Wickedly Bad Neighbors and a Very Grumpy Girl

“You didn’t think we were going to let you get away with it, did you? Tit for tat and all that.”

“Hmm, excuse me, but what? You broke the law. Now please open the door right this minute.”

“Oh no. Here we are, minding our own business, when the grumpy girl next door crashes our party and sends our guests flying out of here because she starts scratching these tiny dots on her arms and claims she has chickenpox.”

I take a step back, fully accepting that I’m essentially trapped here inside with them.

Why do I feel so trembly? A million butterflies collide in my stomach; my nipples are achingly sore now, my breasts swollen and heavy, too. And no matter how hard I press my thighs together, I can’t quell the throb between my legs. What in the heck is going on with me?

?Chapter Seven

Avery

What is it about these men that makes me so hot? Hot? I’m analyzing their effect on my temperature when I’ve been deliberately trapped in here with them. Do I need my head examined?

“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, unable to disguise the quiver in my voice. I hate looking at them. They make me feel crazy, like I’m losing my mind and control over my body. I don’t like it.

“Payback time.”

“There can’t be any payback. You can’t break into someone else’s house and have a party. It’s illegal. Why am I repeating myself? Don’t you get it? Now you’re lucky I didn’t call the cops, so this is your chance to leave and—”

“We own this house,” Sullivan says, interrupting my lecture.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose are our adopted grandparents,” Porter adds.

“Wait. What?”

“You heard us.” I whip my head up to look at Gray.

“You want to call them up to make sure? Or better yet...” Porter pulls out his phone, and after a few seconds, the bubbly giggles of our mayor, Shelly Burns, echo around the room as she greets Porter. She knows it’s him without him uttering a word. Also, she answered her phone after one ring at this hour?

“Mayor Burns, do you mind telling our lovely neighbor that the Ambroses are our adopted grandparents and that we’re allowed to have a party at any time, day or night?”

“Oh, is she giving you a hard time?” Mayor Burns says, her voice full of contrition. “My deepest apologies. I should have warned you about your uptight neighbor. She’s a stickler for rules, that one. Drives me bonkers when she starts quoting laws to me.”

“Yep, we figured that much already. The bonkers part. She scared away all our guests by pretending to have chickenpox.”

“Oh no, she didn’t,” Mayor Burns groans over the phone.

“She did. She thinks we’re trespassing.”

“Oh dear. Please accept my deepest apologies again. I’ll have a talk with her.”

“She’s right here, scowling murder at us.”

“Of course she is,” Mayor Burns sighs. “Avery, Avery? Are you there?” Porter holds the phone out to me. I take it gingerly, my head held high.

“Mayor Burns,” I say a little stiffly.

“Please stop busting their balls, honey. They’re just back from the military, and all they want to do is unwind. They deserve to have a party all night long if they want. Also, the house does belong to them anyway. The Ambroses gave them the house. I’ll speak to you tomorrow, okay?”

“But there wasn’t anything about new owners in the bulletin,” I say lamely.

“Well, of course there wasn’t. If I had put anything in there, these poor men wouldn’t have had a moment's peace. Everyone would be bringing them baked goods and swooning over their good looks. They’re just back from the military, like I said, and needed to acclimatize and kick back.”

“Well, if you wanted them to be incognito, you should have told them not to throw a party in the middle of the night and wake up the entire neighborhood anyway.”

“Did they, though? Do you know if anyone else complained? No, because no one else complained. Case in point. Avery, love, get yourself a pair of earplugs and leave those deliciously hot men alone.”

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