Page 23 of Sunshine
He nods.
“What could we possibly have to talk about, Mr. Biker?”
“We’re neighbors, Tessa. Call me Case.”
I frown, mostly to keep my smile holstered. He’s quick-witted and I hate that it amuses me.
“It’s Tess,” I stress. “And where I come from neighbors are nothing more than strangers you wave at occasionally while getting your mail.” I cross my arms, adjusting my footing slightly as my ankle starts throbbing. “Feel free to wave from your side of the tree line.”
“What if I need to borrow some sugar?”
My brows rise. This man does not look like the sugar-borrowing kind. He looks like someone I’d like to lick sugar off of though.
Ugh, down girl.
I want to smack myself for the intrusive thought, but instead I gather a breath, making myself sound extra annoyed. “That’s what Instacart is for.”
“Instacart probably isn’t a thing out here,” he states.
Of course it isn’t.
I roll my eyes. “Do you need sugar, Mr. Biker? I’ll give you the entire ten-pound bag if you’ll just get to the point and leave.”
“No, and it’s Case.”
I audibly growl and Case holds his hands up in surrender, once again giving me a look at his spectacular arms. I tap my foot, and the move makes me wince.
He notices but doesn’t say anything, thankfully.
“I thought we could talk about a mutually suitable schedule.” He gestures inside and despite my urge to growl him right off my porch like a rabid dog, I step aside and let him in. He immediately makes his way to the kitchen table and sits.
I catch him noticing the overturned coffee cup and spill. “You startled me,” I say and wipe up the mess, trying hard not to limp as I walk around to my spot. “That’s what happens when people pound on your door at the crack of dawn and break your concentration.”
He doesn’t apologize again. Instead, he points at the coffeemaker. “You mind? I could use one.”
This time I roll my eyes behind closed lids, my shoulders slumping. “Would you like a coffee, Mr. Biker?”
“That’s a neighborly offer, Tessa. Yes, thank you.”
My jaw tightens. “Help yourself.”
He heads to the machine opening the cupboard like he’s made himself a coffee here many times. Maybe he has.
“Right, you should be resting that ankle.”
“My ankle is fine,” I say through clenched teeth.
He only nods, pops in a pod in and presses the start button.
“Here’s the thing,” he says, and I look skyward to thank the gods he’s finally getting to the point.
“I’d like to work with you. You said you’re on a deadline and I am as well, but maybe we can both make some compromises and make things work.”
Just as I’m about to open my mouth to answer, an instant message pops up on my screen. It’s from Paige, and not best friend Paige. In all caps, Agent Paige says,THEY ARE CONSIDERING LEGAL ACTION, TESS!
I don’t need to ask who ‘they’ are. She’s talking about my publisher. And my stomach instantly roils.
“I’m willing to adjust my schedule and start at nine in the morning instead of eight, as long as you don’t mind me working until seven in the evening.”
