Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“Sordid things happen in that house, dear.”
“Really?” I bite my lip to hide my smile. Special-ops sordid things sound hot.
“Women coming and going at all hours. Real playboys, those ones.” She leans in to lower her voice again. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re swingers.”
“Oh . . .” I nod as my eyes roam over their house. “Are they married?”
“No.” She frowns. “What makes you say that?”
“Swingers are married, aren’t they?”
“No, no, dear, it just means that they have sex with a lot of people. Look it up on the Google.”
The Google.
I bite my lip to hide my smile. Carol think she knows everything, and it is clear that she doesn’t.
“Anyway,” she continues, “they are huge and all muscly and go running and all types of crazy extreme activities.”
My eyes linger on their house.
Interesting.
“They rent and don’t really involve themselves with us. The boys don’t like them much.”
“The boys?”
“Oh, the men on this street are all tight. They hang out together.”
“What men?”
“Well, next door to you on one side lives Henley James.”
“What’s he like?” I act clueless.
“Beautiful man.” She leans in and lowers her voice. “Owns a huge engineering company, very successful.”
“Is he?” I nod as I listen. “What’s his wife like?”
“He’s not married. Although every woman he meets falls madly in love with him.”
Ugh . . .
“I see.”
“And then in the white house on the other side of you is Bennet Stark.”
“What’s he like?”
“He’s some IT whizzbang, develops apps or something.” She shrugs. “It’s all well over my head, but he’s the bee’s knees at what he does apparently. He’s single too. Actually, I think he’s got a girlfriend now. There’s a strange car there at night sometimes.”
“Oh, I see.” I look around the small cul-de-sac. There seems to be a lot of men who live here. Chloe is going to be so jealous when she finds out that Blake Grayson is one of them.
“Rebecca and John are across the street. They are lovely too. They got married a few years ago.”
“What do they do?”
“John is a surgeon, and Rebecca is a teacher.”
“Sounds great.” I smile, grateful for the intel. “Thanks for the rundown.”
“I do hope you like scones, dear,” Carol says as she walks down the front steps. I walk with her as we talk.
“I do. Thank you so much.” I peek under the tea towel and see steam rising. “Oh, they’re still hot.” I smile in surprise as we arrive at my mailbox.
“No store-bought rubbish in my house, dear. I bet you’re a good cook too.”
“Sure am,” I lie with a fake smile. Can’t cook for shit, Carol, but whatever.
A black Range Rover pulls onto the street. “Here’s Henley home now,” Carol says.
Fuck.
He drives in and waves and parks in his driveway. His house is big and fancy looking.
He gets out of the car and waves. “Hi, Carol.” He begins to walk into the house. “Lovely day.” He walks toward his front door and stops on the spot.
He just realized who I am.
He turns back to us and frowns as his eyes lock on mine.
Shit.
“Come and meet our new neighbor,” Carol calls.
He twists his lips as if angered and walks over with his hands in his fancy suit pockets. “We meet again.”
Hearing his familiar sexy voice snaps the sanity band in my brain, and I just want to lash out and be a bitch.
“Sorry?” I smile sweetly as I pretend to forget him. I hold out my hand to shake his. “I’m Juliet. Nice to meet you.”
He narrows his eyes in confusion as he shakes my hand. “Henley James.”
“Juliet just moved in; I’ve made her some scones.”
Henley’s eyes stay fixed on mine, his face emotionless. “The best scones in the land, Carol.”
Carol lets out an overexaggerated giggle. “Oh, Henley, you tease me so.”
I inwardly roll my eyes as it becomes blazingly clear that Carol is one of those women who is in love with him.
“The owners must be renting this house out while they get a permit approved for the new build,” Henley says.
You wish.
“No, Harry,” I reply.
“Henley,” he corrects me, unimpressed.
“I bought it.”
“What?” He frowns. “What do you mean, you bought it?”
He means, How could I afford a house on this street? Judgy prick. I begin to hear my angry heartbeat in my ears. “What else could I mean, Harry? I bought the house.”
“Henley,” he spits through gritted teeth. “Don’t call me Harry again.” His eyes hold mine, and it’s really hard not to burst out laughing. This forgetting-him plan is a hoot.
God, I’m brilliant.
“Nice to meet you,” he lies before storming off. “Goodbye, Carol,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Bye,” Carol calls. “I’ll make you some scones on Sunday, Henley.”
“Not necessary.” He waves his hand in the air and keeps walking.
Carol stares after him, perplexed. “He must be very busy. He’s usually so warm and welcoming; he’s never abrasive like that.” She raises her eyebrows as she contemplates his reaction to me.