Page 37 of The Chad Next Door
As he watches me, he frowns as if he isn’t quite sure if he can believe me. “Most people hate it.”
“Do most people have something to hide from you?”
That question catches him off guard, apparently, and he has to think about it for a second. “I guess they usually do, yeah. But you don’t?”
I love that he makes that a question, even though I’m pretty sure he has done some digging at some point. He seems like the kind of guy who would want to know everything about his neighbors, which would explain how he knew so much about Hank without ever really talking to him. I wonder how far he dug, but I really have nothing to hide.
“Did you find my parking ticket?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.
He laughs. “I didn’t find you at all.”
“You seriously didn’t dig?”
“I didn’t know your name was Karen until the other night.” He tugs on my hand, trying to pull me back into his arms, but I resist, which seems to frustrate him more than the fact that he couldn’t search for any of my nonexistent skeletons. “What are you doing?”
Biting my lip, I grab one of the mugs of hot cocoa and take a sip, even though at this point it’s more like lukewarm cocoa. The Red-tails highlights may still be playing behind me, but this sounds like a lot more fun. “I’m going to learn everything there is to know about Chad Briggs,” I tell him, settling myself on the ottoman by his feet instead of the couch.
With the way he scowls at me, I have a feeling he doesn’t give many people that pleasure. “What are your sources going to be?” he asks warily.
“I only need one.”
“Which is?”
“You.”
Though he fights his smile, it wins out in the end as he sits up and curls one leg underneath the other. “You know,” he says, taking the other mug of cocoa when I hand it to him, “I’m usually the one asking questions.”
“So it’s long past someone else’s turn, don’t you think?”
“You might not like some of the answers.” Now there’s vulnerability in his voice, and I can tell he wants this. He’s been on his own for a while now, even if he said he was dating his stupid ex up until six-ish months ago. If she was cheating on him—how in the world could anyone cheat onhim?—she was probably neglecting him. And this man needs to know he’s worth loving. I may not know the first thing about love, but I know what I feel for him. If I can find a way to show him, maybe that smile will make an appearance more often.
That’s a win-win situation right there. He gets to be happy, and I get to see one of the most beautiful smiles I’ve ever known. And hopefully it means more kissing because that will never get old.
“Chad,” I tell him as seriously as I can, even though I’m stupidly grinning because I’m so excited. “I don’t think there’s anything you can tell me that I wouldn’t like.”
He wrinkles his nose. “That’s a tall order.”
“Try me.”
“What do you want to know first?”
My grin grows wider. “In a fight between a grilled cheese and a taco, who do you think would win?”
Chapter Sixteen
Chad
October 20
I don’t remember the lasttime I willingly stayed up past two A.M. outside of being on a stakeout, for good reason. Sleep, difficult as it is to come by lately, is a precious commodity, and there are few things that can make up for anything less than a solid eight hours of z’s. Talking to Hope is definitely one of those things.
Though at times I find myself cursing her young body and endless energy, wishing I could be twenty-four again and full of life, she always finds a reason to keep me awake, whether it’s with another question—ridiculous or sincere; she has both—or by kissing me until we can’t breathe. I don’t know if I’ve ever talked this much in my life, and I certainly haven’t ever kissed this much in my life, which is saying something considering I lived with Mercedes for over four years. Hope kisses the same way she does everything else: without hesitation or reservation, and that’s something Mercedes never did. Not even when things were good between us.
Hope makes me feel like a new man—both the woman and the sentiment. Because she does have me hoping that this can be something. She may be young, and she may come with a lot of baggage, but who doesn’t? I’ve got plenty of my own. Together, we might as well rent a storage locker or use it to build a blanket fort or something.
Yeah, she has me thinking about blanket forts, which I haven’t made in years.
The world feels bright again, and it’s all thanks to her.
