Her eyes go wide, and she shudders. “It’s a good thing you didn’t give me a warning. It would’ve given me time to freak out.”
“The element of surprise does have its benefits.” I apply antiseptic cream and bandage her hand. “The next time you lock yourself out, maybe knock on a few doors before you scale the building, yeah?”
“I make no such promise.” She plants her hands on her hips and side-eyes the empty space between our decks. “Ready to do this?”
I climb up on the railing, bracing one hand against the townhouse. It’s only a few feet to the next deck, and with my 6’3 frame, it’s basically just a big step. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for Maybe-Tink, which is why I cross over and turn to face her, offering my hand.
She scrapes her hair into a messy ponytail, securing it with a hairband from her wrist, and before I can so much as blink, she’s standing on the railing across from me.
“Piece of cake,” she says, taking my hand. A spark passes between us, electrifying my nervous system, but I’m not sure if she feels it because the little daredevil is checking out the drop.
I shake my head. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you’re not supposed to look down?”
“That only applies if you’re afraid of heights.” She leaps across the gap, landing easily on the four-inch strip of wood at our feet. “Which I’m not.”
I should’ve guessed as much, but I’m not exactly on top of my game.
She hops down, and I get a bird’s-eye view of the nape of her neck. Of the ink just below her hairline.
Holy shit.
My vision narrows, blocking out everything but the beautiful woman before me. “Tink?”
2
AVA
“Excuse me?”
My sexy new neighbor jumps down from the deck railing, and despite being a dang giant, he lands like a cat. Which tracks, becauseof courseMr. Sexy-as-Sin-and-Helpful-to-Boot has a ballerina’s grace.
He may have the moves, but his aesthetic is all wrong.
Facts. The beard alone would rule out ballet, but he’s sure as heck got the body for it. He’s tall and broad with sun-bronzed skin covering his sculpted thighs and biceps. Sweat glistens on his brow, and damp strands of dark hair curl around his ears and over the collar of his t-shirt, giving him a distinctly boyish look, though he’s got to be in his late-twenties.
“I can’t believe it.” His piercing blue eyes lock on mine, and for the first time, I notice the small, silvery scar above his right eyebrow. “It’s really you.”
My belly dips.
“I…have no idea what you’re talking about.” I offer him a self-deprecating smile, hoping to soften the blow. “Sorry.”
“You really don’t remember me?” Disbelief flickers across his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “I guess I looked alittle different back then. My hair was shorter, and I didn’t have a beard.” He claps a hand over his flat stomach. “Plus, I’ve put on some weight.”
And it was clearly all muscle.
Talk about unfair. Why is it that men keep getting better with age, and I look like a Walking Dead extra if I skip my skincare routine?
So not the point, Ava.
Right. Maybe we met a few years ago? In clinicals. Or grad school. I rack my brain for context, but I’ve got nothing.
I’ve never seen this man before in my life. Not that I can remember, anyway. And if I’d met an objectively gorgeous man with muscles for days, surely I’d remember.
Still, he just saved me several hundred dollars in locksmith fees I can’t afford, and I don’t want to offend him. Not when we’re going to be neighbors for…however long I’m in Atlanta.
“Perhaps you could give me a hint?” I suggest. “I haven’t had my coffee, and I’m notoriously bad with names, even on my best day.”
Not entirely true, but Nana always says a white lie is better than a nasty truth.