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  I turned back to face her.

  She fiddled with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

  I stepped in the hall.

  She closed the door behind me.

  Well, I didn't have to worry about this girl wanting me for my fame or money. It didn't seem like she wanted to be around me at all. It bothered me more than I cared to admit.

  I spent the next couple of days unpacking and getting to know the neighborhood. The temperature dropped even further, which worked for me. A hat pulled down over my ears and a scarf wrapped around my face turned out to be the perfect disguise. I didn't run into Callie or Nip. Not even on the morning bathroom runs.

  A few days later, I wandered around Park Slope and passed by a Greek restaurant. It stood out because the all-white facade contrasted with the surrounding red brick buildings. It sat in the middle of the block. I loved Greek food.

  I opened the door but stopped when I spotted Callie sitting at a table in the back. She wasn't alone. Her wavy red hair cascaded down her back. She ran her hands through it, and I imagined doing the same. Even from a distance, I could see her bright eyes shine.

  She spoke with her hands. Threw her head back and laughed. The guy sitting across from her appeared older. A pang of something hit me when he reached out and touched her face. My chest tightened.

  I stared for a few more minutes before pulling my gaze from her beauty, tucking my hands in my pockets, and walking back home in a funk.

  As soon as I stepped into my place, I got to work. I was on edge from seeing her with that guy. I had run five miles today and did an hour session with weights this morning; my workouts bordered on obsession. I was bored.

  I cooked instead.

  Making my mom's spaghetti put me in a good mood. The tomatoes simmered and I cut up all the ingredients. I hadn't familiarized myself with the kitchen much since I’d arrived. I placed everything on the counter and got to work. Halfway through with my prep, I realized I didn't have salt.

  I peered out the window. Rain had started to fall. I didn't want to go back out. Maybe I could ask Callie.

  After all, what are neighbors for?

  Five

  Callie

  The loud knock startled me.

  I had returned home seconds before.

  I had met Charlie, my dad's property manager, for lunch. He was a nice guy. Young and eager to please ... my father. He had called me every few days since I moved. He wasn't satisfied with being my dad's go-to guy; he wanted to be my dad's son-in-law.

  I shuddered at the thought.

  Despite his little crush, I agreed to have lunch with him if only to get dirt on his new tenant. Turned out, he knew nothing because Noah's agent had rented the place for him.

  I sat through a long lunch with even longer stories about all Charlie's ‘big deals’ he had closed since the last time we saw each other.

  Near the end of lunch, fueled by a bottle of Cabernet, his advances became not so subtle. I excused myself and hightailed it back home.

  The knock rang out.

  Nip ran to the door yapping.

  He knocked again.

  I yanked open the door.

  His eyes grew wide. He coughed and stuck his hands in his pocket.

  "I'm sorry to bother you," he said.

  "No, it's okay? I keep forgetting I'm not alone in the place." My gaze got caught on his strong chiseled chin. I needed to stop staring, but his physical appearance was much more striking in reality than in my fantasy. It messed with my head.

  He narrowed his eyes and looked toward the front door.

  "So I started cooking and realized I don't have any salt." He turned back toward me. "Do you have some I can borrow?"

  I narrowed my eyes at his strange Seventies neighborly-like question.

  He stared, his intense gaze challenging me. As if trying to figure out if I was real or not.

  I peeked behind me and saw my computer open and on. Noah's shirtless image splashed across the screen. I stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed. Nip yelped in protest at being left behind.

  "I have extra stuff like that in the cellar." I waved. "Follow me."

  He cocked his head.

  I proceeded back down the hall toward the stairs in the back of the house. In the cold hallway, my body felt the heat of his gaze. I wore skinny jeans and a sweater that hung long in the front and short in the back. My sister bought it for me. I hated it. My sister was one of those women who had a perfect body. She never understood my insecurities because she didn't have any. She even loved her butt, me not so much. I wore it under another sweater that I had pulled off as soon as I got home.

  I shuffled down the hall faster. He caught up with me at the door that led down into the ground floor cellar.

  I flipped on the light and descended the stairs.

  "This is kind of creepy."

  "Don't worry." I looked back. "We removed the dead bodies long before you got here."

  I cringed, but he laughed.

  The unfinished basement with its exposed beams and concrete floors creeped me out. In the main room, we kept garden tools and maintenance stuff. To the right, a few feet stood another door.

  I shielded the keypad with my body and typed in the code, eighty-nine, eighty-nine.

  I really am obsessed with this man.

  The keypad beeped, and the door released.

  "High security," Noah said and chuckled.

  "Yeah. We store a lot of stuff in here."

  "We?"

  "My family. We use this place for short rentals and whenever we have family in town. I just moved in here a week ago."

  I pushed open the door, flipped on the light, and waited for my eyes to adjust.

  The room resembled a supply shack for one of those crazy people preparing for the end of the world. Metal shelves lined the left wall with cases of bottled water, blankets, canned foods, and other survival gear. It was enough to live off if you found yourself in a War of the World's type situation.

  "What's back there?" Noah walked to the sealed glass door to the left.

  "That's the wine cellar," I said.

  I searched for the salt and pepper.

  I found it and grabbed one of each.

  Noah flipped the switch next to the door and the wine cellar illuminated under orange light. He opened the door and stepped into the cool room.

  The small square space had floor-to-ceiling wine racks lining three walls. Wine bottles filled every rack. Next to the door on the fourth wall stood a hip-high table made of dark wood and two barstools.

  The table had a covered hutch where we stored wine glasses in different shapes and sizes along with a decanter. I knew nothing about wine except that most of it tasted good. I was a craft beer kind of girl.

  I peeked into the room and giggled as I watched Noah search with wide eyes. He looked like a little boy checking out the gifts under the tree on Christmas morning.

  "Oh, wow," he said as he carefully reached out and palmed a bottle of red wine from a lower shelf. His head shook, he licked his lips, and he continued to explore, holding the bottle of red wine close to his side.

  I stood inside of the door, watching him.

  He winked and continued to explore the stacks unashamed.

  In this weird, crazy, mixed up, insane, and unpredictable world, how did this become my life?

  Six

  Noah

  “No f-ing way."

  I replaced the first impressive bottle and picked up a more impressive year and vintage.

  I had never held anything more precious in my hand. Well, when it came to wine anyway.

  "This is a 1972 Chateau La Tour." I said with wide eyes.

  She shook her head but smiled. She had a fantastic smile. Genuine and rare, like the bottle of wine I held in my hand.

  "That’s ...” I watched her search for the right world. "Old."

  "Yeah, it's old and valuable." I read the label again. "This is your dad's collection?"

  "
My mom. She's the wine person."

  She is so cute.

  I put the bottle of wine down and searched for more.

  "If you want, you can try it." She opened the draw of the bar and took out a corkscrew. "There are so many, she won't notice."

  "You really don't know anything about wine, do you?" I grinned.

  "Uhm. No. Why?"

  "Well," I walked over to her and stared down at her. She held my gaze. "That bottle is worth over twenty thousand dollars."

  "For a bunch of old grapes?" She dropped the corkscrew back in the drawer.

  I laughed. I wanted to touch her. I turned back.

  "I wonder if my dad knows," she said.

  I spotted a Stag's Leap, 2010.

  "Here. If you want an intro into good wine, try this." I handed her the bottle, but her hands were full with the salt in one hand and the pepper in the other.

  I took the salt, and she took the bottle and read the label.

  "I'll keep that in mind." She handed the bottle back and took a seat on one of the barstools at the bar.

  I peeked over at Callie as she sat in silence with a far-off look in her eyes. I had the feeling she had deep-seated secrets hidden in the depths of her mind behind those bright green eyes. She shared nuggets about herself. Apparently, her family was wealthy, yet she dropped out of school. She appeared at ease with the guy in the Greek restaurant but seemed uneasy around me. She traveled the world, but seemed naïve or sheltered.

  She was a fucking mystery.

  Get a grip, Noah. You've known the girl for five minutes.

  I had been on guard lately because of the trouble I got myself into.

  Even when I told her my name, she didn't seem to recognize me. Maybe she had been around celebrities before and knew they wanted to be treated like normal people.

  "Tell your mom she has a well-represented collection. She should be really proud."

  "I'll tell her you said so." She walked back out of the cellar.

  I followed.

  "How do you know so much about wine?" she asked.

  "My dad." I flipped off the light in the wine cellar. "Something we kind of got into together."

  With the way her sweater hung, I couldn't help but check out her ass. She had a fantastic body. All curvy and sexy and with her innocent expressions, she had me adjusting my pants as I followed her back up the stairs.

  Maybe it was the red hair and the pale skin, it was flawless and beautiful. Almost angelic, but with promises of sexiness that had me thinking dirty thoughts.

  I shook the thought out of my head and followed her back upstairs.

  "Thanks for this." I held up the salt. "I'll pay back your stash when I get to the store."

  "No, don't worry about it. As you can see, we have plenty." We stopped in front of my door. "What are you cooking?"

  "Spaghetti."

  She beamed up at me again, and my heart thumped in my chest. Something about the way this girl looked at me. I got the feeling she knew me but liked me anyway.

  I swore off women, but I didn't need to be un-neighborly.

  "Why don't you join me? It should be ready in an a few hours."

  Her face dropped.

  I didn't like that. Maybe she did know me.

  "No, thanks. I have plans tonight but thank you." She blinked.

  "Yeah, sure. No problem." My chest tightened.

  I glanced back once I reached my door, but she had already gone into her place. I frowned and entered.

  The smell of the simmering sauce hit my nose. I pushed my disappointment aside and concentrated on finishing the task at hand. Cooking my mom's spaghetti sauce made me feel good and bad at the same time. It made me miss her.

  I couldn't help but think I would never make the choices I had made if she were alive.

  The sauce turned out great.

  I made enough for twenty people for five days. I ate a heaping bowl of the rich, sweet sauce over spaghetti, cleaned up, and put away the rest. When I cooked it, I usually thought about my mom, but this time, I thought about Callie. I couldn't remember a woman ever affecting me in this manner. When I met a woman, the physical attraction came first.

  When I met Callie, her beauty hit me in the gut, but I saw something deeper. Maybe because I wasn't looking.

  It had been such a long time since someone regarded me and didn't judge me.

  When she turned down my dinner invitation, it stung. More than stung, it fucking sucked. Maybe the guy she had lunch with wasn't just some guy.

  After dinner, I sat on the couch and while game highlights played in the background, I read a copy of The Hobbit I found in the bedroom nightstand. I woke to the sound of a faint bark and a knock on my door.

  I checked my phone, and it showed ten thirty. I heard the knock again and pushed myself up off the couch and padded down the hall to answer it.

  It had to be Callie. I wiped the grin off my face before answering.

  But why the late night visit when she had turned me down before?

  I opened the door. She wore the same outfit I saw her in earlier. If she did have a date, she didn't dress for the guy.

  "Hey." Her shy smile made me smile. I leaned on the door.

  "Hey."

  "I'm sorry it's so late, but I didn't have your number." She held her phone up in her hand.

  I didn't say anything. I stared and waited for her to speak.

  Her eyes blinked and she bit her lip. She hugged herself and rocked from one foot to the other.

  "I'm sorry." She shook her head, turned, and headed back to her place.

  I went after her.

  "Hey." I reached out and touched her arm. She turned on me as if I had burned her. She rubbed the spot where I had touched her. "I was up. What's going on?"

  "I want some spaghetti." She blinked and stared up at me.

  "Okay." I narrowed my eyes but backed up toward my apartment.

  She shook her head. "Not tonight." She scratched at her wrist and inspected the ground. "I mean I would like to have dinner with you. Umm, how's tomorrow night?"

  "Okay."

  "Seven."

  "Fine." She turned and headed back to her place. I spotted her dog sitting at the door glaring at me as if to ask why I had upset his owner. I wondered myself.

  I'll get to the bottom of it tomorrow.

  Tonight, I couldn't stop smiling as I skipped back to my room and jumped into bed.

  Seven

  Noah

  Callie knocked at five after seven.

  I rushed to the door. My grin had set up permanent residence on my face since last night.

  When I opened the door, I took a step back. She had dressed for the occasion.

  She wore a maroon sweater dress that hugged her curves, black leggings, and ankle boots. Her wavy hair fell past her shoulders. I stopped myself from reaching out and touching her cheek. I wanted to see for myself if it felt as soft as it looked. I wanted to run my fingers through her red hair. I wanted to step close to her, so she had to tilt her head up to see me. It took every ounce of restraint not to wrap my arms around her waist, pull her close, and taste her sweet lips.

  She handed me a bottle of wine.

  "How did I do?" she asked. Her eyes lit up.

  She liked my approval.

  She picked out the Stag's Leap Cabernet I showed her last night.

  "Perfect." I smiled and stepped back.

  She walked in and surveyed the place as if she had never been in here before.

  "How do you like the place?" She ran her hand along the back of the brown leather sofa. Two matching leather and tweed chairs flanked the sofa. An entertainment center with a fifty-one inch flat screen television hung on the wall. "If there's something you need, I'm sure Charlie will make sure you get it."

  "Charlie?" I asked.

  "He's my dad's property manager. I saw him yesterday, and he wanted to make sure you were comfortable," she said.

  The guy worked for her father.

  She
sat on the edge of the couch. I bought flowers and set the table all proper like. I wanted to impress her.

  "He's the guy you had a date with last night?" I asked as I sat the wine on the table.

  "Date?" Her eye scrunched up.

  "Last night, you turned me down because you said you had a date," I said.

  "I didn't say I had a date," she said and shook her head and grinning.

  "Oh, yeah." I grinned back.

  "No, I wasn't with Charlie last night."

  "So you were with some other guy last night." I turned towards her and crossed my arms over my chest.

  "Is this your not-so-subtle way of asking me if I'm seeing anybody?" She asked.

  "I didn't think I was being subtle." I rubbed my head.

  She rolled her eyes.

  "It smells good. Can I help you with anything?"

  She didn't answer my question, but I dropped it for now.

  "No, I have it under control. Make yourself at home." I escaped to the kitchen to check on dinner.

  I returned and found her leaning over the coffee table.

  I cleared my throat.

  She straightened and pulled her hair to one side and gave me a glance. I doubted she knew how crazy her side glances and smile made me.

  "I wasn't snooping," she said.

  "I didn't think you were."

  "This copy of The Hobbit." She picked it up. "It's mine. I must have left it here."

  "I found it on the nightstand in the bedroom." I pointed toward the bedroom.

  "When I was in high school, we spent a summer in my apartment, while my parents’ place in Manhattan was being remodeled. I used to sneak over here and pretend it was my apartment. I was this hip college student living on her own in the big city." Her green eyes gleamed as she told the story. "I felt more like a grown-up in those days than I do now."

  "I know what you mean. When I was a kid, I loved being the center of attention, and now, I just want people to leave me alone." I shrugged.

  She smirked and turned back to the books on the table.

  "So did you write this?" I took the book out of her hand and flipped through to the blank page with her handwritten list.