Page 1 of Protecting Clove
1
Caden “Bud” Hansley’s new neighbor was driving him crazy. It was after seven in the morning, but the asshole hadn’t even waited until one minute after the hour to start playing the piano. He couldn’t take another day of this early morning piano serenade on the weekend.
Today! He would confront them today.
He pulled on a T-shirt and shorts, then headed over to their door, ready to make them understand the piano was too much at seven in the morning on a Saturday.
Part of the problem was he lived in a duplex, and the piano sounded like it was right up against the wall to his bedroom. If they moved it out to the den, or dining room, it wouldn’t be so bad. It was absolutely imperative he get them to understand they couldn’t keep doing this.
The sound of the piano wasn’t as loud as he pulled open their screen door and raised his hand to knock. There it was—proof the piano was in the wrong room of their place.
He pounded his fist on the door and then paused. The sounds from the piano died, and he waited for them to come to the door.
He was about to start pounding again when the door opened just a crack, but no one was there. Then he heard a small voiceand looked down, seeing dark eyes that were wide as saucers staring up at him. It was a child.
“Did you need something?” The girl was small and young, maybe five years old.
The anger bled out as he took in her braided hair and a gap-toothed smile. She was too young to understand his anger. But he was over here, and he couldn’t think of anything else to do but complain about the noise.
“The piano, it’s loud.” He tried to speak softly, but he wasn’t sure he hit the right tone.
“Oh, crap. No, you aren’t supposed to open the door. Who are you talking to?” The woman inside sounded breathless as she moved closer.
The little girl looked over her shoulder, opening the door more, revealing a woman tugging at the hem of her shirt, pulling it down to cover her torso. “Our neighbor. That’s why I opened the door. I recognized him. He’s wearing his booty shorts.”
Bud glanced down, looking at his thighs. He was wearing his short workout shorts. They were very short, but he didn’t think of them as booty shorts.
“Don’t call them that,” the woman said as she gently moved Neo away from the door.
“That’s what you call them,” the little girl said as she moved deeper into their house.
“I’m sorry, what did you need?” the woman asked as she pulled the door open more, giving him a better look at her.
He froze as he stared into dark eyes that seemed to pull him in. Dark, curly hair bunched around her face, making her cheekbones look high. Her pink lips were parted slightly in what could be described as surprise. Her skin was creamy, near perfect looking, with just a few freckles across her nose. He wanted to reach out and touch her and see if she was as soft as she looked, but he kept his hands to himself.
“So, why are you over here at seven in the morning?”
He blinked, coming back to the reason he was here. “The piano. It’s loud.”
She narrowed her eyes. “No, it’s not on the wall we share. It shouldn’t be loud.”
“It woke me up. It’s loud.” He needed coffee and more sleep to talk to this beautiful woman. It shouldn’t matter how she looked, he wasn’t here to hit on her, but she had him tongue-tied and unable to think straight.
She shook her head while she turned her back on him and started pointing from one side of the house to the other before she gasped. When she spun around, she slapped her hand over her mouth.
“Crap, I’m so sorry. I asked the movers to put it against the outside wall. I can’t believe I got that wrong. It shouldn’t be in the bedroom, should it? That was wrong. I’m so sorry. I can get someone out to—no, I won’t have money until two weeks from tomorrow. I spent everything—never mind. You don’t want to hear that.”
“I can move it for you. I just need to get one of my buddies out here.”
She jerked her head back and narrowed her eyes. “You want to come into my house?”
He shook his head, wishing he’d stopped to grab a cup of coffee before coming over. He needed more sleep and had wanted the piano to stop. “No, I want to be able to sleep late on Saturday morning. I don’t want to be in your space, but that piano can’t stay where it is.”
Her lips thinned, and she pointed her finger at him. “If you misbehave, I know where you live.”
He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Trust me, I just want sleep.”
“What is your name?”
