Grump Next Door, page 1
Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2023 Sam Crescent
ISBN: 978-0-3695-0918-5
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Lisa Petrocelli
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
GRUMP NEXT DOOR
Sam Crescent
Copyright © 2023
Chapter One
Robin Caites had been living in her new home, which she had already redecorated three times. Glancing at her newly installed, modern kitchen, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was right. She’d never been a picky person, but the cream cupboards and black work tops were not inspiring her.
Running fingers through her hair, she pursed her lips and shook her head. “Enough, it is enough.” She took a deep breath and then walked into her sitting room.
The kitchen had been changed three times, but she’d left the rest of the house alone, after she decorated.
She hated decorating or renovating more than anything. Collapsing onto the sofa, she stared straight ahead. The television was turned off—she couldn’t remember the last time she had turned the damn thing on. She didn’t like watching television, not even when her ex would insist on seeing the latest hot show.
Pushing thoughts of her cheating ex out of her mind, she took a deep breath and listened to the silence. A year.
She was over her ex, had been over him long before the divorce had been finalized. It wasn’t hard to get over him. All she had to do was think about him with the other woman—a younger woman—who got pregnant with not one, but two of his kids. Yes, for eight years of marriage, her husband had been living a life with someone else. The only reason he’d stayed with her as long as he did, was because he liked the money and lifestyle she’d created.
She had started a blog when she was young, that had expanded across many different kinds of social media. The blog ranged from cleaning, to cooking, to fashion, and she had done a great deal from reviewing to editing. The blog had become so much of a success that in the final year of her marriage, she’d gotten an offer for it, which she’d accepted. From time to time, she still did videos and wrote blog posts, but other than that, there was nothing more for her to do.
After discovering her husband’s infidelity and his other life, working on the blog had somehow lost its edge. She was no longer in love with the work she did. The offer had been huge, so she decided to take it. She never had to work again if she didn’t want to. Her life was her own.
Much to her ex-husband’s anger, he didn’t get a cent of it. Her husband had been a lawyer and because he figured he’d be making most of the money, he forced them both to sign a prenup. A very solid, concrete, uncontestable prenup. She got what she paid for during the marriage, as did her husband, and he didn’t get anything else.
That day in court when the judge read the ironclad agreement, Robin had felt a great deal of pleasure. Even her lawyer had said there was nothing that could be done. Her ex had really shot himself in the metaphorical foot.
Robin got her divorce, decided all men were evil, and moved here, to this rather secluded house in a kind of cul-de-sac. The only problem was her grumpy neighbor. They hadn’t talked, ever, in the past year.
There had been a couple of times she’d seen him, and he’d been miserable. Like at Christmas, he didn’t appreciate her hanging up lights and decorating the house. With her ex, he hadn’t liked to go overboard on Christmas. One tree only was ever allowed in the house, which was such a waste, so her first Christmas truly alone and free, she decorated the house completely, inside and out.
She even posted it on her social media. Pulling her cell phone out of her back pocket, she brought up her account and quickly scrolled toward the December posts, and sure enough, there they were. There were a lot of likes.
Quite a few of her followers had been a little disappointed in her giving up the blog, but once she did a post explaining everything, many had been so kind and were willing to wait to see what she wished to explore next. Their comments and emails had gotten her through some of the toughest times.
At the sound of scratching at her back door, she couldn’t help but smile. That would be Buttercup.
Her neighbor had gotten a dog a couple of months ago, the cutest little Jack Russell she had ever seen, and it had stolen her heart the first time she found it crapping in her backyard. She had cleaned up the mess and then spent the whole afternoon playing with the gorgeous dog. Only when her owner, Mr. Grump Next Door appeared, did she wander off, and that was when she heard that her newest love was called Buttercup.
Robin didn’t have a clue why he named her Buttercup, but as far as she was concerned, it was the perfect name for the perfect angel.
Robin opened the door, and she didn’t have to wait long before Buttercup walked right in, with her tail wagging. Then she did this little half-leap as if she wanted to jump up onto her. She couldn’t help but giggle and then sink down to her knees, where Buttercup suddenly did this amazing puppy pose that would make any yoga participant envious.
“Sweetie pie, does he not know you got out? He’s going to be so worried about you.”
Robin hadn’t quite found the part of the fence she seemed to be able to slink through to get to her yard. The truth was, she didn’t exactly look hard enough. Buttercup always made her smile. This dog was like … she didn’t know, it probably sounded crazy, but a lifeline in a way.
She melted away the sad and lonely feeling. At thirty years old, she could retire, but she couldn’t help but feel alone as she was divorced, without any kids, and right about now, she hated men.
Men cheated. They were evil, and she didn’t want anything to do with them. They were all after something, and she didn’t have to participate in that kind of life. Luck was not on her side, because there was no denying that the grump she lived next to was a very … sexy man.
Not that they had many interactions, except when opening the curtains, taking out the trash, standing next to the window. And seeing him, yeah, there was definitely something to look at, but that was all she allowed herself to have. A small little look. Nothing else. Nothing more.
Buttercup came toward her, licking and nibbling at her face, and she couldn’t help but laugh. Wrapping her arms around the dog, she pressed her face against the scruff of her neck, breathing her in. Another little strange thing was that she loved dog smell. Yeah, she was weird.
Pressing kisses to the dog, she rolled to the floor, and Buttercup jumped onto her stomach and then settled down, curling up. She let out a sigh and lay on the floor, then stroked the dog, feeling content. Did Buttercup know she was feeling miserable?
Robin didn’t know if it was possible, but for now, she was going to take it. She needed this. Thinking about her ex and her life always seemed to settle her into a horrible depressing feeling that she struggled to shake. She didn’t love her husband anymore. During their confrontation, Robin had even asked why he’d married her, and he had told her because of work. To make partner, they needed someone who looked like they had a family. She was frumpy and boring, and that was what family meant. He described the woman he had two kids with as being “his little slut.”
She wrinkled her nose and Buttercup wriggled on her lap.
“Don’t worry, I’m not sad or anything. I’m used to it, but Buttercup, don’t ever let a guy tell you you’re the most perfect woman on the planet. He’s going to be lying to you.” That was what her ex said, to get her to marry him.
Robin had thought he was in love with her, but it was all just a lie, which was another reason to stay clear of men. They only brought heartache.
She was done with men.
Done with love.
Done with romance.
It didn’t exist.
Just pigs.
Horrible men … and women. She didn’t judge, it was across the board, and the only thing good in life was Buttercup.
****
Dylan Greaves looked around his house, but he knew without a doubt that Buttercup was at the neighbor’s. He’d never really spoken to the hot, curvy neighbor. The few times he’d seen her, she’d been either gardening the front lawn or putting up those blasted Christmas lights, and he hadn’t been interested in starting a conversation.
The truth was, he knew he was grumpy. He’d turned into what he hoped to never be—a grumpy old man. What exactly did he have to celebrate? At forty-five years old, he was divorced, alone, with Buttercup being the only real love of his life right now. That dog meant everything to him.
He wasn’t exactly sure how he got Buttercup. It all started six months ago when he was driving home late at night. He had been in the house six months, the same as his neighbor, but they hadn’t spoken. Then, by some magical intervention or something, they were on the front lawn at the same time, and looked at each other. Dylan had wanted to make introductions, but he’d fought that urge, and instead left and went for a much-needed drive.
On the way back, he found Buttercup, the stray dog that seemed to have a limp. He picked up Buttercup, and much to his surprise
Dylan tried to ignore it, but the truth was, he dreamed about that little dog, and he wanted her. After the past six months, no one had claimed her, and she was now his.
Also, he may have also currently wrote the dog into his will, which his lawyer wasn’t too impressed about, and asked if he wanted to see a therapist. He didn’t need to see anyone.
He was a guy who loved his dog and wanted to make sure that if he passed before Buttercup, she would live a good life. When his lawyer tried to get all logical and said the dog wouldn’t live as long as he would, he nearly fired him on the spot. Dylan wasn’t interested in hearing those kind of facts.
Right now, he had a feeling Buttercup was with his neighbor. He moved toward the door, ran fingers through his hair, and wondered what the hell he should do. They hadn’t really spoken, and he was pretty sure he heard his neighbor calling him “Grumpy.”
What exactly should he say about that?
“That’s my dog,” Dylan said, and walked out of his door.
He glanced down the street, because in the year since he had lived at the house, he had come to notice, every now and then, there was a collection of people just staring toward their houses. He was pretty sure one of them was the previous owner’s daughter, but he wasn’t sure. They were not there today, so he held his hand up and knocked on the door. He didn’t hear anything, but he saw her car in the driveway.
Seconds passed, maybe even a minute, and then his very sexy neighbor opened the door. She wore a pair of jeans that seemed to mold to those juicy thighs like a second skin. The top she wore was a little out of place, seeing as she held Buttercup in her arms, but it didn’t detract from the curves of her waist, hips, ass, and tits. Fuck. She was a walking, talking wet dream.
Her ass had been one of the first things he noticed. He loved a woman with curves, which is what made his ex-wife so strange. She had always been on a diet, and even though she was slender, she had always called herself fat. Nothing he said or did stopped her from dieting. Then, finding her with his best friend balls-deep inside her, he figured nothing he could say was going to change that.
It turned out that the woman he thought he loved enjoyed fucking everything with a cock. His best friend had taken a turn, many of their neighbors had, some of the people he’d worked with, waiters, and who knows how many others. She loved to fuck and hated being tied down.
What she loved about Dylan was his money. From a young age, he’d played the markets, and he had a good eye on what would do well, so he’d made a fortune. He could retire if he wanted to.
His wife didn’t get a cent of the money, much to her annoyance. Due to her blaring infidelity, he didn’t have to pay her anything.
Last he heard, she was enjoying life with his ex-best friend, and there was even rumor of her being pregnant.
Dylan had never considered himself a fool, but for five years, he was taken for one, and that was not something he liked.
“Hi, I was going to bring her back, I promise,” his neighbor said.
“It’s okay. I want to apologize. I don’t know how she keeps getting into your yard, or your house.”
She gave a little laugh. “She got into my garden and then I let her in my house.”
Her smile lit up her whole face and he was pretty sure he saw a twinkle in her eyes. They seemed to sparkle. She had amazing brown eyes.
“Er, I know this is probably a little late and all that, but I’m Dylan Greaves, your neighbor.” He held his hand out to her.
She supported Buttercup’s weight and then placed her hand within his. He didn’t know what happened, but it was like a tingle rushed up his arm, spreading through his whole body. She opened her mouth, then closed it.
“I’m Robin Caites, your neighbor. I think we moved in roughly about the same time, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, we did.”
“I don’t think I can call myself your new neighbor.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I, ugh, I think we, I don’t know, got off on the wrong foot maybe. I’d just gotten out of a messy divorce, and knowing a woman had moved in next door, I wasn’t the greatest guy to be around.” And he had no idea why he was just blurting out all this nonsense.
Dylan never shared anything about his life, not with strangers—and this woman was a total stranger. She didn’t need to know that he hated women, or wanted to hate women.
“Don’t worry about it. Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse. He’d sworn off women for all eternity. After needing to get tested because of all the men his ex slept with, and everything that had gone wrong, he didn’t trust them.
“I’d love to.”
Why the fuck was he agreeing to go in for a drink? None of this made any sense. He didn’t want to have a drink, but then in the next second, he’d stepped foot into her home, and the door had closed.
The scent of vanilla invaded his senses and it smelled so good. It actually made his mouth water, which was completely insane. Nothing was supposed to make his mouth water.
He was trying to get back at all women with his anger.
“I better hand her to you,” Robin said. She placed Buttercup in his arms, but the little devil wanted down.
“Do you mind me putting her down on the floor? I can take her home, it’s no problem.”
“No, no, it’s fine. Buttercup is a sweetheart.”
“Tell that to the postman,” Dylan said.
This made her laugh. “Oh my, does she go for the mail?”
“All the time. She barks and nips at it, but she hasn’t caught his fingers yet. I can’t say the same about my mail, though, some of it ends up in shreds.”
She started to laugh. “That is so adorable.”
“You love dogs?” Dylan asked.
“I do, or at least I love Buttercup. How can anyone not love her?” Robin pointed just behind him and he turned to see his little angel on the floor, looking so perfect and peaceful, and so damn cute.
Yes, he loved this dog. More than he had ever loved his ex-wife. Nothing like a cheating wife to put his life into perspective.
He pushed thoughts of that cheating bitch out of his mind as she didn’t have a place in his life anymore. She meant nothing to him, nor would she ever mean anything to him again.
“Cream? Milk? Sugar?”
Chapter Two
Robin had no intention of inviting Mr. Grump—or Dylan, she had to remember that—into her home, and certainly not for a cup of coffee. She quickly glanced around her newly decorated kitchen and then looked toward Dylan, who seemed to be inspecting the place.
“This looks amazing.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you hire someone to do it, or did you design this?” he asked.
“I did. I wasn’t happy the first couple of times, but then, I don’t know, I quite like it this way. What do you think?”
“It’s awesome. In fact, I know this is rather fast, but how would you feel about doing my kitchen? I feel it needs a new lease on life and I’ve not done anything to the place since I moved in, other than, you know, dump my stuff.”
Was he asking her to help him decorate his home? She wanted to say no, but she found herself smiling and saying yes.
“But, I feel I should warn you, I’m not, like, a professional or anything.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, that’s why it took me three times, and I’m so sorry if the noise was a problem.”
“Don’t worry about it. I can’t believe you’re not a professional, this is amazing. What do you do, if not interior decorating?” he asked.
