The Nice Guy Next Door Read online

  “I delivered your vegetables,” I call out as I walk in the front door of my nana’s house. The tiny woman saunters into the room and places her hands on her hips.

  “And how were they received?” she prompts for me to continue. Eilleen Lane is a firecracker. It’s one of the things that made Pops fall in love with her. No one says no to Nana. Nana decided he was the one, and Pops said, “Okay.”

  “She was very grateful, of course.”

  “Good. Now get in here and eat some of these cookies I just made. They’re for my book club later, but I made way too many. If I have to bring all these things home with me, I’ll sit and eat them all, and then I won’t be able to fit through the front door.”

  “But at least you’ll be a happy trapped lady,” I joke. Nana is five feet tall and about as big around as a toothpick, and she knows it. She bats at my arm as if she’s exasperated with me, but it’s all just an act. I’m the apple of her eye, and we both know it—half the town of Waverly, Texas knows it.

  She ushers me into her kitchen, and I’m greeted with the sight of her table completely covered in cookies. “Geez, Nana. How many women attend this book club?”

  “There’s usually about ten of us. I know I went overboard, but Millie is supposed to be there. She’s the new children's librarian, and I want her to feel welcome,” she says. She narrows her eyes, daring me to say something. Nana goes overboard with everything. It’s something of a joke around town.

  She was once in charge of the town’s Easter egg hunt in the city square. For starters, she bought way too many eggs for such a small town, and then she proceeded to hide the eggs so well that even she couldn’t find half of them. Kids were still randomly stumbling upon eggs on Halloween that year.

  “They look delicious,” I tell her as I swipe two cookies from a tray. White chocolate chip and cranberry—my favorite. There’s also chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin, of course. “So, you said Millie is supposed to be there?” I prod while staring down at the table. I’m trying to look nonchalant here, but I don’t think it’s working. Nana has stopped rifling through her fridge, and I can feel her laser eyes focused in on the side of my head.

  “Uh-huh. Did you find anything out about her earlier?” she asks. She sits in the chair across from me and rests her elbows on the table. Her gaze is unrelenting, and I look out the window to escape it.

  Should I tell Nana that the woman I met this morning was shy and sweet and also achingly gorgeous? Should I mention that she’s single and raising her teenage sister? Nana is no town gossip, but a few of her friends are. I don’t want to risk something about Millie getting out that she would prefer to remain private. She should have a chance to get settled in before she becomes a spectacle—and she will become a spectacle. Waverly is tiny, and we rarely get newcomers.

  “Nope. Don’t know anything about her,” I say right before I shove a huge bite of cookie in my mouth. It’s sweet and delicious. The cranberries add just the right amount of tartness. I immediately take another bite, preventing Nana from asking me more questions. I can tell by the shrewd look on her face that she doesn’t believe me for a second.

  The woman knows me well. She did help raise me, after all. My mom had me when she was only eighteen. My father, aka sperm donor, didn’t want anything to do with me. The original plan was to put me up for adoption, but Mama heard my heartbeat on the ultrasound and couldn’t do it. For the first five years of my life, we lived with Nana and Pop while Mama went to beauty school and then got settled into her career. After that, we lived right next door. It was a great childhood. And with Pop around, I hardly ever noticed that a dad was missing from my life.

  “Where’s Pop today?” I ask to get Nana’s attention off of Millie.

  “He’s over at Jim’s or whoever’s, helping to shingle the roof of that new chicken coop he built. I don’t know why the man retired if he’s still going to work. Now he’s just doing it for free—‘as a favor,’ he says. Drives me crazy. And why does a chicken coop need shingles, anyway?” she says and crosses her arms over her chest. She points at me and says, “But don’t you try to distract me.”

  It almost worked. I saw Pop at Jim’s house earlier while I was working and knew that it would frustrate Nana. Pop turned seventy-three a few months ago and decided that it was finally time to retire from the handyman business. He had a good successful career, but the work was getting hard for him.

  The problem is, he’s going and helping people do projects for free now. He can’t handle staying home and relaxing for days on end.

  “You have to tell me what you thought about her. It’s so rare that we have new people in town. I have to find out everything.” Nana bounces in her chair, waiting for all of the details of this mysterious woman’s life.

  “Really all I can tell you is that she has long, light-brown hair, the color of honey. It’s almost to her waist, and it has a nice wave to it. Her eyes are dark brown. Her skin is pale and creamy looking…”

  “Well, I take it that you were taken by her beauty,” Nana says with a laugh. “But you forget I met her when I showed her the house two weeks ago. Did she tell you anything about herself?”

  I clear my throat and say, “Oh, umm, right. We didn’t really talk long because she’s trying to get moved in. You probably spent more time with her than I did, so why don’t you tell me something about her.”

  “Well, you’re no help at all,” she says and crosses her arms over her chest.

  “Nana, you’re going to see her tonight at your book club meeting. Why don’t you just ask her more about herself then?”

  “I don’t want to harass her and scare her away.”

  “So, you’ll just harass me instead, huh?”

  “You’re family. You have to put up with me. And besides, who’s going to feed you all the time if you stop coming around here?” she asks with a smart-alec smirk on her face. I shove the last of my cookie in my mouth and stand from the table. I brush the crumbs from my hands and land a loud, smacking kiss on Nana’s cheek.

  “I gotta go. I’m meeting some friends for a game of baseball,” I say as I get ready to head out. In reality, I have more than enough time, but once Nana decides she has to know something, she’s not going to let it go. I make my escape quickly before she can pepper me with any more questions.

  It’s 7:00, and the baseball game just ended. My team lost by two runs—a loss I plan to avenge next week at the same time, same place. Some friends and I have had a long-standing Thursday evening baseball game here at the park for well over two years now. From fall through spring, we play from 5:00 until the sun goes down or we get tired. In the summer, we typically push it back later to avoid the sweltering heat.

  The park is right beside the public library, and apparently, the women’s book club starts at 7:00. I’m watching the steady stream of women trickle into the parking lot and walk in together, laughing. I recognize most of them.

  “What are you staring at?” my friend Seth asks, sitting down beside me. He’s watching the direction of my gaze with his brows scrunched up in confusion.

  “Nothing. Nana just mentioned that the new librarian is going to be at their book club tonight,” I reply with a shrug of my shoulders to show that it’s no big deal.

  Seth narrows his eyes at me and bites his bottom lip. “You have a thing for librarians, little Jamesy?”

  I stand up from the bench and say, “What? Gosh, no! She’s my new neighbor and Nana and Pop’s tenant for their rental house. I was just wondering how she’s doing.”

  “Hmm, you seem awfully defensive,” Seth chuckles.

  “What’s going on?” our other friend Colby strides up to ask.

  “Jameson has the hots for the librarian,” Seth supplies.

  “Isn’t Gertrude ninety years old? Or you better not be talking about my sister, man!” Colby asks with a look of half disgust, half anger on his face.

  “Not Gertrude or Hannah. Gosh, man. The new children’s librarian. She literal
ly just moved next door to me today,” I correct him.

  “So, you admit it. You have the hots for her,” Seth says with a triumphant smirk on his face. He’s a know-it-all, and it irks me to no end. I rub my hand down my face and growl in frustration. “Does she wear her hair in a bun with pencils tucked behind her ear? Does she have thick-framed glasses?” he asks.

  Colby continues the joke and says, “Does she have a closet full of cardigans? I bet her favorite word is, ‘Shhh.’”

  “I don’t have feelings for her. I’ve only met her once, and she thought I was coming to arrest her.” That has both of them rolling on the ground, cackling like hyenas. Colby is laughing so hard he falls off the bench and brings Seth crashing down with him. I stand off to the side and resist the urge to throat-punch both of them.

  I grab my things and stomp over to the library in annoyance. I take deep breaths, determined to calm down before I enter the building. It doesn’t work because I hear Seth call from behind me, “What are you going to do in the library? Do you even know how to read? Maybe the new librarian can teach you.” He and Colby both dissolve into a fit of laughter again. I tune them out and keep walking.

  The library is quiet when I first enter, but as I walk farther back, I can hear the chatter coming from the conference room. I have a good view of the room. It looks like there are about fifteen women. More than the usual ten Nana mentioned but still not enough to eat the mountain of cookies she made.

  “Are you interested in joining the book club?” a quiet voice asks behind me. I jump and turn around so fast it makes my head spin. I use a hand to prop myself up against the wall and fix my eyes on Millie. “I can get the sign-up sheet and book list for you. I must warn you, though…” She leans in, and I can smell her citrusy perfume as she whispers, “They’re all romance novels.” A nervous smile spreads across her face, and my head spins again for a completely different reason. She’s beautiful and funny, and I know I’m sporting a dopey grin.

  I stand up straight and cross my arms over my chest, trying desperately to not look like the dork that I am.

  “Oh, um, no. I was just playing baseball over at the park and came in to check out a book before heading home,” I say. I rub my chin, now scratchy with stubble at the end of the day. Her gaze follows my hand, and I watch as her mouth parts. “Alright, I’ll let you get to your book club,” I say too loudly.

  The next thing I know, Nana is practically running out of the conference room to tackle me. “Jameson, sweetie. What are you doing here?” she asks with a knowing glint in her eyes. “I know you’re not interested in reading or discussing romance novels with a bunch of women,” she says with an elbow to the side. You wouldn’t think it would hurt too bad since she’s so little, but those bony elbows can do some damage. I yelp in pain and scooch away from the hellion.

  “Ouch! Nana, do you have a license to carry those weapons? I just came to look at some books.”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” she says before turning to Millie. “I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous, having my knuckleheaded grandson here drop off those groceries earlier,” she says.

  “Oh, no. It was wonderful! Right before I got the veggies, I was despairing the fact that Lo and I would have to live on rice and beans for a month because moving is so insanely expensive,” she says with a laugh. But I see the shadows in her eyes. She’s not joking. This woman has been through more than she’s letting on.

  “Lo?” Nana asks.

  “Oh, my younger sister. Lorraine, but everyone calls her Lo. She hates her name.”

  “Why would she hate such a lovely name?” Nana asks her. Millie’s face turns the deepest shade of red I’ve ever seen on anyone’s face before, and her eyes are darting between me and Nana. There’s something she doesn’t want to tell us.

  I scramble for something to say and wind up blurting out, “Probably because it’s an old lady name!” Nana’s mouth falls open, and she reaches up on her tippy toes to smack the back of my head. She can’t quite reach, so she smacks the back of my neck instead. “Why are you so violent? I was just making a joke.”

  “It was rude, young man.”

  “I’m thirty-one years old, for crying out loud.” I glance at Millie, and she looks relieved to have the attention taken off of her for the time being. I wonder how well she’ll do walking into the room full of nosy old women who have been retired too long and have nothing better to do than dig into the life of someone new.

  “It’s okay. It’s true that that is why she doesn’t like it. Should we head into the book club meeting, Eilleen?” She gestures to the door of the conference room. It looks like they’re about to get started, and I don’t want to make her late.

  I start to turn toward the bookshelves next to me but then decide to ask, “You didn’t lose my number already, did you?”

  She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and shakes her head no. “Nope. I put it in my phone,” she says. This brings a grin to my face—a huge, cheesy one that goes from ear to ear—until she says, “You are related to my landlord and are my next-door neighbor, after all.”

  “Right. Of course. Like I said, call me if you need anything,” I mutter. I give her a quick wave, grab the first book I see off the bookshelf, and check it out. I drive home in a fury. I get home and realize I checked out a massive romance book with a shirtless man on the cover. No wonder Colby’s sister, who works the desk at the library, asked if I was okay.

  Chapter Three

  Millie

  It’s Monday morning. My first day of work at the library and Lo’s first day at her new school. We’re both running around in a panic because half of our belongings are still packed away in boxes. Lo can’t find her straightener, and I can’t find my burgundy heels that I desperately want to wear today. They give me a nice boost of confidence—and height. They’re very retro and librarian-esque, according to Lo.

  At least we have the coffee pot unpacked. I would not be able to get through this day without caffeine. Lo and I exchange sleepy blinks across a box that is clearly mislabeled. It says bathroom in big, bold letters, but it contains all of my missing shoes. Hallelujah! Lo glares at me while I slip my heels on and strut over to the kitchen to pour coffee into my travel mug.

  “We need to leave, Lo. You don’t have time to straighten your hair now, anyway,” I tell her. She glares daggers at me and goes to her room in a fit of rage that is very out of character for her. She must be nervous, so that makes two of us.

  A minute later, she returns with her hair in a loose braid and her backpack slung over her shoulder.

  “Ready?” I ask her. She nods her head, and we rush out the door in a tornado of activity. I’ve forgotten my keys and have to run back in to grab them. My room looks like a bomb went off due to my shoe search, and it takes five minutes (that I did not have to spare) to find them. They were in my underwear drawer of all places. Who puts keys in their underwear drawer? Have I mentioned that I’m exceedingly exhausted from this past weekend?

  I plop back down in the car and see the time. I only have ten minutes to drop Lo off at school and get myself to work. We can’t be late on our first day. I buckle up and then speed out of the driveway. I’m going way too fast, and I know I’m being a horrible influence on my impressionable little sister. I don’t normally drive like a raging maniac, but desperate times call for desperate measures. That’s the saying, right?

  We’re so close to the school. At least Lo is going to be on time. That is, she was going to be on time. Not now. I’m 95% sure that my tire just gave up on me and is now lying in the road instead of on the rim where it’s supposed to be.

  “No! No, no, no, no! This cannot be happening. Not today!” I yell. I pound on the steering wheel and accidentally hit the horn. It blares loud and long, and I want to crawl in a hole. Lo reaches over and pats my shoulder. “Don’t patronize me,” I snap at her. She snatches her hand away and scoots farther away from me in her seat.

  I get out of my car and look at my
tire…or lack thereof, I guess I should say. Just then, a state trooper pulls up behind me, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Jameson steps out of his patrol car and says, “Hey, Millie. Good to see you. Just wish it was under better circumstances.”

  “Yeah, it has been a rough morning. Even worse now. Yay. I mean, I know it’s my fault. I knew I needed new tires, but things have been so crazy lately. Who has time or money for tires?”

  “Oh my gosh, you’re so weird,” Lo groans from inside the car and rests her head against the window. Jameson laughs softly. He leans down to see her better.

  “Hi, I’m Jameson, your neighbor. I’m guessing you’re Lo,” he says.

  “Yep. And I’m about to get a tardy on my first day of school here,” she says.

  “Well, let me get this tire changed for you real quick then.”

  Jameson gets to work changing the tire, and I stand to the side, watching him. His hands are filthy, and his forehead is sweaty, but he somehow still manages to hold the title of “Most Gorgeous Man Alive.”

  It’s taking longer than I thought it would, though, and with each passing second, I’m feeling more and more guilty. Lo isn’t going easy on me either. She’s whispering under her breath how this is all my fault. I wish she would have just stayed in the car.

  I’ve apologized at least five times, but she’s not having it. I feel awful. I’ve made her move to a new town and start a new school, and now she’s going to have to walk into a room full of kids she doesn’t know, late. Like, really late.

  He finishes up and loads all of my things into the trunk of my car before coming over to talk to me.

  “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate it,” I say as I clasp his dirty hand in mine.

  “You look like you’re having a rough start here in Waverly. Just make sure you get that tire taken care of quickly, okay,” he says.