The Grump Next Door Early Chapters

Please note: The Grump Next Door deals with topics that may be upsetting for some readers. Should you prefer detailed information in order to have the best reading experience, please click on the content notes below.

Chapter One

Atlas

If there was one thing I hated more than people, it was talking to people. And talking to people while my oversized frame was stuffed into a monkey suit was seventh circle of hell territory.

Didn’t have much of a choice, though.

The sooner I made my appearance at the annual charity gala my former team held, the sooner I could make the rounds, and the sooner I’d be back here in my hotel room.

My empty hotel room.

I could shower off the stench of jersey chasers, jerk off to a faceless woman in peace, and fall into a restless sleep. Then I’d head back home in the morning.

This was my least favorite way to spend an evening, but even though I’d been out of the league for five years, I hadn’t missed one of these events. And despite my disdain for the attire—and events in general—I didn’t plan to start anytime soon.

I tugged on my dress shirt, buttoning it up with as much care as I could manage. Which wasn’t much. After a glance in the mirror verifying I hadn’t misaligned the buttons, I grabbed my cuff links engraved with my number—a retirement gift from the team owner—and slipped them through the holes before securing them into place.

I’d tied enough bow ties in my life that I could do it without thought. The problem was, if I didn’t have anything occupying my mind, it tended to wander to places I’d rather leave in the rearview mirror.

Halfway through tying the bow, my phone buzzed from its place on the nightstand. I abandoned the knot and strode over to glance at the screen. My youngest brother’s name flashed, along with a string of call notifications I’d missed while in the shower.

I pressed the button to accept the call. “Yeah.”

“Nice of you to finally answer, dickhead,” Lincoln said.

“I’m a little busy, Linc. What’s up?”

“We’ve got a Mom Situation,” he said without preamble. The clinking of glasses and the loud hum of voices carried over the line, telling me he was at One Night Stan’s. “And since I can’t be both there and covering the bar, we’ve gotta tag team.”

I froze on my path back to the mirror, my steps halting as a dozen different scenarios flew through my mind, each one worse than the last. “What kind of Mom Situation?”

“Nope. I’m not gonna spill so you can pick and choose. Just tell me which one you can take care of—Mom or the bar. And hurry the fuck up. Who knows what she’s gotten into while I waited for your ass to answer.”

“I didn’t answer because I’m a little busy here. Why didn’t you call Declan?”

“Uh, because I actually wanted someone to show up?”

Fair enough. Dec wasn’t exactly reliable. And Xander was a plane ride away, so he couldn’t just swing by the family bar to lend a hand.

“Well, I can’t show up. I’m out of town.” I scrubbed a hand across my mouth. “Jesus Christ, does no one look at the family calendar?”

Lincoln snorted. “What am I, a soccer mom? No, I don’t look at the fucking calendar.”

“Well, if you had, you’d know I’m in Portland.”

“Maine or Oregon?”

“Maine.”

Not that it mattered. Even though I was in the same state, it might as well have been another country for all the good it did me. This was the first time I’d left our small town all year—since the last time I’d come to this exact event, actually. But of course, shit would hit the fan on the singular day I wasn’t in Starlight Cove.

How bad would it really be if I missed the charity gala? And how quickly could I charter a private jet?

“I don’t buy it,” Lincoln said. “You never leave this place. Barely leave your house unless you’re here, at the school, or at an away game for the team. So stop fucking around, quit giving me excuses, and help me handle this.”

With a muttered curse, I hung up on him and navigated to the camera app.

Group text with Atlas, Xander, Declan, and Lincoln
7:27 p.m.

Lincoln: Why did you hang up on me, asshole?

I sent him the picture of myself glaring at him in reply.

Atlas: Team charity thing in Portland. Just like last year. Just like next year. Just like I put in the fucking calendar.

Declan: Am I supposed to be impressed that you jetted off somewhere in your $10k tux?

Atlas: Linc needs you at the bar or to check on Mom. Your pick.

Declan: I’m busy

I ground my molars, biting back the string of curses I wanted to release. How my brothers still acted like fucking children even though they were all in their thirties was a goddamn mystery.

Atlas: Unbusy yourself, shithead. I’m four hours away and can’t exactly pop over.

Lincoln: Guess it’ll forever remain a mystery why I didn’t call Dec first.

Declan: One of you assholes fill me in on what’s going on.

Lincoln: Mom Situation

Declan: Dire or standard?

Lincoln: Anyone’s guess. Her faucet’s been dripping. Instead of waiting for one of us to handle it, she started watching YouTube videos. She’s attempting to be her own plumber.

“Motherfucker,” I muttered. I began typing out a reply when another text notification popped up, this time from the woman in question. I clicked over to the thread with just her and me.

Mom: I know your brother has sent out the bat signal or whatever, but I’m FINE. I’m a fully grown, independent woman and don’t need my sons to come to my rescue all the time. Have fun at your gala! And send me pictures!!! I’ll take care of this myself, no need to worry. These videos are very informative!

Atlas: Mom. Just leave it alone for now. Don’t touch anything.

Mom: I’m perfectly capable of handling things in my own house, Atlas.

Atlas: I know you are. But just wait for one of us, will you?

Mom: Your brothers are welcome to help me once they get here. Unless I’ve already finished by then.

Group text with Atlas, Xander, Declan, and Lincoln
7:36 p.m.

Atlas: Jesus Christ, one of you needs to get over there right fucking now. She’s diving in without waiting for us.

Lincoln: I’ve got the bar to handle, and we’re two deep because Mabel’s offering half off a sex toy if people buy her a drink. I’m going to have to roll her out of here by last call.

Atlas: Dec. That means you’re up.

Declan: Goddammit. You fuckers have no idea what I’m passing up for you.

Lincoln: Not for us, douchebag. For Mom.

Declan: Yeah, yeah. I’m on my way.

Xander: Sorry for the late reply. Looks like you got it handled, but lmk if otherwise.

Lincoln: Convenient, Xan.

Xander: I can’t do shit when I’m 1k miles away, dickweed.

Atlas: Someone keep me up to date.

Lincoln: Enjoy the fancy party. Word on the street is there are a whole lot of thirsty women ready to pounce.

Atlas: What’s that supposed to mean?

Lincoln: When’s the last time you looked at your Instagram?

Atlas: I have an Instagram?

Lincoln: Yes, idiot. You got tagged in a bunch of promo pics for the event. The ladies are going feral. Including Cara Preston. She’s happy to be your date or—and I quote—whatever you need, anytime. So your next game should be fun.

“Fuck me,” I groaned to my empty hotel room and scrubbed a hand down my face.

I tossed my phone on the bed and finished tying my bow tie, my mind properly occupied this time. That woman might as well have taken out a billboard for how subtle she’d been in her interest since I’d moved back home.

Problem was, I didn’t date my players’ moms. Or women who lived in Starlight Cove. Or in general.

I’d come to realize that returning home—or to my hotel room—alone and jacking off to a faceless woman held a lot fewer headaches for me. God knew my family proved enough of a challenge that I didn’t need to add any more to my list.

Chapter two

Sutton

On any other Saturday night, my big plans for the evening would’ve been to spend it in an empty house with my current read and my vibrator. Possibly at the same time. Okay, probably at the same time.

Unfortunately, moving across the country thwarted those plans. Being stuck in a hotel room with my teenage daughter meant there was absolutely no fun in my future. Especially when that teenage daughter was cursing my very existence for dragging her away from the favorite city she’s ever lived—never mind she’d said that about literally every place we’d ever called home.

Laurel groaned as soon as we walked into our room. “Seriously? We have to share a bed?”

I walked past her, rolling my suitcase behind me, and glanced around the space. With its crisp, clean lines and modern touches, this hotel was a step up from our last one. But it did, in fact, have only one bed. “I thought we loved when that happened.”

“Ugh, in books.” She fell back onto the bed, her eye roll loud enough for me to hear. “Not with my mother.”

Sixteen-year-old attitude was going strong with this one.

“You heard the guy at check-in—with the event happening, we only managed to snag this room because of a last-minute cancelation.”

And thank god for that because if I had to spend even five more minutes in a car with Laurel, I wasn’t sure both of us would make it out alive.

Bracing my hands on either side of her shoulders, I leaned over her on the bed and shot her a mischievous smile. “You wanna crash whatever fancy sportsball thing is happening in the ballroom?”

“We hate sportsball.”

“All the more reason to crash it. I’d be willing to bet gala plus sportsball equals good food.”

“Silence plus solitude equals a good night.”

Becoming a mom at sixteen hadn’t been easy, but I loved my daughter more than life itself. Would crack open my chest and rip out my own heart if she needed it. But spending two days in a car with her and her shitty attitude was pushing me to my limit. What I wouldn’t give for a roll of duct tape right now.

“Hey, I have a great idea,” I said with false cheer as I pushed to stand. “I’m gonna head down to the bar for a while and give you some privacy for your existential crisis. Sound good?”

“Still living in Atlanta would sound good.”

“Great! I’ll work on getting that time spinner up and running while I’m enjoying a lemon drop.” I hooked my oversized purse over my shoulder and strode toward the door. “Lock this behind me.”

“I know, Mom. God. I’m not a child.”

The look I shot her screamed more than my words ever could. Unfortunately, her attention was focused solely on her phone, so the effect was wasted.

I stepped out into the hall, the door shutting behind me, and leaned against the wall. Breathing out a deep sigh, I let my head fall back and closed my eyes, waiting until I heard the lock click into place.

“Mouthy little shit,” I muttered, sidestepping a guy coming out of the door across the way. “Sorry, not you.”

Without waiting for him to reply, I hooked my bag higher on my shoulder and strode toward the elevator. I might not have been able to have any fun with my vibrator tonight, but at least I had my book with me. Getting lost in a fictional world for a while was exactly what I needed.

I’d park myself at the bar for an hour or two, give both Laurel and me some breathing room, and head back up to try to get a good night’s sleep. We had several hours in the car tomorrow before we’d arrive at our new home. And then came the unpacking. My daughter was just going to love that.

While moving wasn’t new for us, her attitude definitely was. And I couldn’t say I was a fan. I also couldn’t blame her. Switching high schools halfway through wasn’t ideal, but I didn’t have much of a choice.

As a travel nurse, I had to go where the job was, and I couldn’t always choose where I wanted that to be. I was just lucky a good friend from college had been looking to hire a nurse when my last contract ended. It was serendipitous.

Yeah, Starlight Cove, Maine, was a far cry from Atlanta. And yeah, it was smaller than any other place we’d lived…ever. But I wasn’t sure that was so bad.

I wouldn’t mind a slower life for us. One where it didn’t take an hour to drive ten miles. One where I didn’t have to wonder what part of the city she was lost in on a Friday night. One where I could enjoy these last two years of having her home with me before she flew the nest for good.

It’d been just the two of us for so long, I wasn’t sure what I’d do when I no longer had that. I wanted to soak up every second I could.

“What I’m not gonna do is cry tonight,” I mumbled to absolutely no one as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

As I stepped inside, I tugged my book out of my purse…and somehow managed to fumble a move I’d done a hundred times before. The corner of the paperback got caught on my strap, flew out of my hand, and landed on the floor, skidding to a stop in front of a pair of polished black men’s dress shoes.

“Shit, sorry. I don’t usually assault people with books. At least, not at the first meeting.”

The man reached down and picked up the paperback, flipping it so the title faced him before extending it to me. “Fake Dating Her Ex…good choice.”

His voice was deep, just a low rumble that somehow perfectly matched his appearance. Dark hair, harsh brows slanting over whiskey eyes, and a short beard that did absolutely nothing to hide his sharp jaw or those full, sinful lips.

Taking the book from his outstretched hand, I raised a brow. “Read a lot of romance, do you?”

“Depends on what you define as a lot.”

Uh…for this man? Anything more than zero would be a lot. He wasn’t exactly the poster child for a smut slut.

I stepped to the other side of the elevator and took him in. He was huge, with shoulders roughly the width of a truck and thighs the size of tree trunks, all encased in a fancy suit that probably cost more than a nice used car.

It didn’t take much to deduce he was more than likely on his way to or from that sportsball thing happening tonight. I glanced at the floor panel to his right, noticing the bar/ballroom level was lit up—to, then.

He was going to be as out of place there as I would be, considering I was still wearing my standard driving uniform that basically amounted to pajamas. Tuxedo or not, he looked like he belonged in a secluded cabin in the forest, being pissed off about all the wood he had to chop rather than attending a gala.

And he definitely didn’t look like he read romance.

“More than three?” I asked.

He lifted his gaze to mine, and jesusfuck. I felt that all the way to my toes and every single forgotten inch in between.

That was…new.

I didn’t usually have that sort of reaction to a man. Not after mere minutes. And certainly not after coming out of a spectacularly shitty relationship where just the thought of men pissed me off.

“In a week?” he asked.

My brows lifted. “Um…I was thinking in a year.”

“Then by that definition, yeah.” He pressed himself against the far wall, hands tucked in his pockets, face impassive. Though his gaze…it kept straying to mine. Almost as if he couldn’t help himself.

Even standing slouched as he was, he positively dwarfed the space. There was no denying just how imposing this man was. But something about the way he was holding himself told me he was trying very hard not to be.

I cleared my throat. “Well, Mr. Seven Foot Tall, it’s not very often you meet a guy who looks like you who happens to read romance.”

“Six-six.” His lips twitched—there and gone so quick, I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined it—and he glanced down at the book I held. “And, to be fair, I haven’t read that one. But my mom loved it.”

“Your mom, huh?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “You guys have book club?”

“She’s a librarian. And a great cook. Sometimes I don’t have a choice.”

The way he said it, all business, no inflection, brought a smile to my lips. It’d been a long time since a man had been able to disarm me long enough to do that. Even longer since I’d felt regret over not being able to see where this could possibly lead.

Alas, it wasn’t in the cards.

The elevator came to a stop, and he reached out, holding the doors open for me. “Enjoy your book.”

“Enjoy your gala.” I laughed as his scowl only deepened, and I stepped out of the elevator, shooting him a smile over my shoulder. “I bet the food will be good, at least. Eat something delicious for me.”

Then, without a backward glance, I headed toward the bar. I was ready for a drink. And to get lost in a world where a woman like me would’ve spent the night with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy instead of by herself with only a book boyfriend for company.

* * *

Apparently the universe had taken my silent desire as permission that I didn’t want to be alone and dropped the worst of mankind in my path.

I’d been at the bar for fifty minutes, and this random guy had been on my ass for forty-five of them. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to open my book before he’d sidled up to the stool next to mine, shooting me a leering smile and diving straight into a single-sided conversation.

One I’d tried subtly and not so subtly to put an end to.

Normally, I’d just up and leave—I wasn’t in the habit of allowing men my company if I didn’t want to—but this wasn’t a normal situation. It hadn’t taken me long to realize he was the same guy I’d seen in the hallway outside Laurel’s and my room. Because of course he was. My one talent in life was my ability to attract some real losers.

Since my teenage daughter was in our room, alone, I had no intention of leading him back there. Which meant I was stuck.

The bar was about half full, scattered with an eclectic mix of people—a few in jeans, several who’d obviously escaped from the gala…and exactly no one dressed in pseudo pajamas, save for me.

Unfortunately, even that hadn’t stopped Chief Creep from descending.

I’d kept a napkin over my drink the entire time because I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t slip something into it if I even blinked. I was giving him the coldest shoulder known to humankind, but he just would not take the hint. And I was really damn tired of this game.

I’d been down this road before, and I had no intention of returning so soon.

“C’mon, you know you wanna come back to my room.” He gave me a slow perusal, the sweep of his gaze like slime coating my skin. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

Fuck me. While all his other talk amounted to please, please come home with me, this was the first time he’d laid it out so clearly. I needed to be done with this, and I needed that now.

Unfortunately, the bartender was otherwise occupied, and the closest patron was four stools away, so I didn’t have any hope of catching their attention.

I was on my own.

I scanned the bar as Chief Creep leaned closer, his rancid breath sweeping across my skin. My mind was spinning a thousand miles an hour as I darted my gaze around the space, trying to find a way out of this. Preferably one that didn’t end with my body being found on the ten o’clock news. There were a few men in tuxedos clustered together who I assumed to be sportsball players, but I wasn’t about to dive into a group.

And then I spotted him.

Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy stood at the entrance of the bar, an imposing sight even from across the room. Had he somehow gotten bigger in the hour since we’d met in the elevator? Or was it just the air he was putting off now?

He surveyed the room, a scowl firmly in place, mouth set in a hard line, brows drawn down. His tuxedo was still impeccable, save for the tie now hanging loosely around his neck, the top couple buttons of his shirt undone. But even those helped in broadcasting a silent, stay the fuck away from me if you know what’s good for you.

The problem was, I didn’t know what was good for me.

Even surrounded by other hulking players, he was, without a doubt, the biggest, meanest-looking motherfucker in here. And he was exactly what I needed.

“Who says I’m alone?” I barely spared Chief Creep a glance before grabbing my bag, sliding off my stool, and heading straight for the man I’d been certain I would never see again.

This might be a mistake. This probably was a mistake. But my internal alarm had been blaring from the moment Rancid Breath Douchebag had sat down next to me, when it hadn’t so much as beeped while in an enclosed elevator with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy.

Besides, a guy who listened to his mom dish about her latest romance novel couldn’t be all bad. Could he?

I’d taken only three steps toward him when his gaze landed—and stayed—on mine. He watched my approach with an intense focus I felt all the way to my toes.

And I had absolutely no business liking that as much as I did.

I didn’t slow my steps, worried if I did, I’d second-guess just what the hell I was doing and be right back at square one—or worse, with Chief Creep following me to my room. I had pepper spray somewhere in my bag, but I’d rather not have to spray a random guy outside my hotel room and deal with the cops tonight.

The space around Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy was sparse, as if no one else had the audacity to step too close.

But I did.

I stepped right up to him, craning my head back to meet his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but he studied me intently, trying to get a read on what was happening.

I rested one hand on the hard expanse of his chest. His skin was warm beneath my touch, his heart thrumming in a steady beat. With my other hand, I reached up and wrapped my fingers around the nape of his neck, all too aware that the only reason I was able to tug his face toward mine was because he let me.

He silently studied me the entire time, but those deep whiskey eyes were broadcasting everything he wasn’t saying. Namely, just what in the fuck was I doing?

Great question. Getting Chief Creep off my ass was my main objective. But doing that while also making him think this beast of a man was mine? That Laurel and I would be under his protection? That would be the cherry on top. Because no one in their right mind could look at this guy and think he’d do anything less than irrevocably fuck you up for just looking the wrong way at what was his.

When our mouths were so close I could feel his breath with each exhale, I whispered, “Please play along.”

And then I steeled my nerves, closed my eyes, and pressed my lips against this stranger’s.

I’d come to realize that returning home—or to my hotel room—alone and jacking off to a faceless woman held a lot fewer headaches for me. God knew my family proved enough of a challenge that I didn’t need to add any more to my list.

Chapter three

Sutton

Kissing a stranger should not feel like coming home.

Except coming home wasn’t quite right. That was too gentle for what this was. For what stirred inside me when this man banded an arm around my lower back, lifting me flush against him so that only my tiptoes anchored me to the floor. Too gentle for the response that hummed in my body when he parted his lips and brushed his tongue against mine.

And the groan he released straight into my mouth the second our tongues touched? That sure as fuck wasn’t gentle.

Jesus, I wanted to climb him like a tree. Was actually gripping the collar of his suit jacket like I might try it right here in the bar. I didn’t care that we had an audience. Barely even remembered why I was doing this in the first place. I just wanted to cling on for dear life and allow myself to be taken anywhere—anywhere—this man wanted to take me.

The way he cupped his other hand at the base of my skull, his fingers delving into my hair, said he had a lot of ideas about doing just that. Screamed it even louder when he brought his thumb to my chin, guiding me to open myself farther for him, allowing his tongue even deeper. So calm and confident and sure in a situation that was anything but.

My god, it’d been a long time since I’d been kissed like this. Actually, I wasn’t sure I’d ever been kissed like this. Like I was an oasis in the middle of a desert, that first gulp of fresh air after cresting the surface of the sea.

He was devouring me. And I was letting him.

His massive body was warm and firm, a steady rock holding me up. And thank god for that, because I had no hope of doing so myself. My nipples were tight points against his chest, and I had very little doubt he could feel them. Because my dumb ass hadn’t thought it imperative to pair a bra with my pseudo pajamas. These barely B cups usually didn’t need one.

Usually.

Unless, of course, I was dry humping the hottest man I’d ever seen and my pussy was loudly reminding me just how lonely she’d been with only silicone to keep her company.

After too long and yet not nearly long enough, he pulled back, both of us breathing heavily into the scant space between us. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?”

“More like in trouble. But thank you,” I murmured against his lips. Mostly because I was still dangling off the floor, and he didn’t seem in a hurry to set me down. “I just really needed—”

“Anything.”

“There was this creepy guy, and he—”

“I’ll kill him.” Storm clouds descended over his features as he glanced around the room, pinning each man with a glare.

I huffed out a laugh at the sheer gravity of his words. They were spoken with such a deadly calm, I didn’t for one second think he wasn’t serious. “I’m not sure we need to do all that. I just needed to get away without bringing him back to my room.”

He turned his attention back to me, a beat passing. Two. Three. “How about my room, then?”

A slow smile swept across my mouth. I speared my fingers through the short hair at the base of his head, my body lighting up over the possibility of what this man could do to it.

My time here was nothing more than a stopover. In less than twelve hours, I’d be on my way to a new life with my daughter. And I’d never see this sexy beast of a man again. So what did it matter?

What did any part of tonight matter?

“That would definitely be easier, considering my teenage daughter is alone in mine.”

It took only a moment before realization dawned. His features hardened even more, his jaw ticking as he scanned the bar once again. And I could tell the second he’d spotted Chief Creep. His entire body went stiff, his murderous glare alone enough to send people scurrying.

I looked over my shoulder and confirmed my wannabe suitor did just that, not daring to even spare me a glance. I exhaled a sharp sigh of relief, knowing that even if the guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer never saw my knight in brooding glory set foot in Laurel’s and my room, he’d assume this man would be there. And that was good enough for me.

“He got the message,” my protector rumbled. “But just in case, text your daughter and tell her not to open the door for anyone.”

There was absolutely no reason for my stomach to flip over his concern for Laurel when that had been solely my job the entirety of her life. That probably wasn’t even the reason for the feeling anyway. The flutters in my stomach were no doubt just the letdown of nerves since I wasn’t in fight-or-flight mode anymore.

“She’s a mouthy teenager who wouldn’t open the door if there was a fire. Believe me, she’s fine,” I said. “And I’ll be up there soon enough. We’ve been at each other’s throats for two days, so I was just giving her some space.”

“For how long?”

“What?”

“How long were you giving her space?”

“Oh…” I darted my gaze between his eyes, reading every ounce of desire reflected back at me. “An hour or two.”

“So, you’ve got, what? Forty-five minutes left?” he asked, his gaze dropping to my mouth.

I caught my lower lip with my teeth, loving the way this man looked at me. Who the hell needed a lemon drop when I could get drunk on that alone? “Something like that.”

He met my eyes once again, a thousand promises in his stare. “I can do a lot in forty-five minutes.”