He looks at me, deadpan. “That’s not the milk I’m after, Juliet.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“I’m after a specialty boutique kind of milk only served here.”

“This boutique is members only.”

“Seems a shame to put a label on the factory, therefore nobody gets to drink it.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry.” I fake a smile. “There’s people lining up for a membership.”

“Like who?”

“My milk is no longer any of your concern, Mr. James.”

He rolls his eyes, and I push his shoulder toward the front door. “I only said that—”

I cut him off. “I know.”

“It’s just such a waste . . .”

“Too bad.” My smile does break free this time. “The shop is closed.”

“What about a fifteen-minute window? It would be record speed.”

No kidding.

“No.” I push him out my front door, and he turns around to face me.

“Happy milking.” I smile sweetly as I close the door in his face.

Dick.

Things are getting better. I’ve been going out with the girls, I got a new hairdo, and today, Joel is coming over. I’ve saved some more money and am finally getting back to decorating my house.

The entire house is painted internally now, and it’s time to look at outside colors and themes. I’m still enjoying it here, but I’m not sure if it’s my forever home.

I mean, it’s great and all, and maybe one day when my brain finally lets me forget the man next door, I will fall in love with the street again.

The car pulls up, and I peer through the curtains. That’s Joel here now.

I smile and open the door as I wait for him. He gets all his swatches and carries a big box inside. “Hey, stranger.” He smiles as he walks past me into the house. He stops and pecks me on the cheek. “You look gorgeous. I’ve missed seeing you.”

Oh . . .

“Hi, come in.”

Henley

I sip my beer, unimpressed, and stare over at her house. That fucking idiot Joel has been at Juliet’s for over two hours.

“I don’t know if they are going to win,” Blake says casually as he lies back on my couch watching the game. “If I lose this bet over these fuckers . . .”

I stand at the window, peering through the curtains, my eyes still glued over the fence.

My temper hangs on by a thread. “Shut the fuck up about your bet and just watch the game.” I drag my hands through my hair.

“What’s so interesting out the window?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“What is this . . . the third or fourth time the interior designer has been over to her house this week?”

I roll my lips, infuriated.

Fifth.

“Who knows and who cares,” I lie.

I’ve been baiting her with all my might, and not even a nibble. I’ve fucked this up well and good.

“She’s practically in love with him already,” Blake says casually.

“Shut up.” I begin to pace back and forth. It’s all I seem to do lately. “I don’t give a damn what she does.”

“Sure you don’t.”

If she falls for him . . . I swear to fucking god . . .

Damn it, I don’t have time to be worrying about her all the time.

I just want this over with.

“What are we doing tonight?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” I peer through the curtains again. Hurry up and leave . . . fucker.

Before I break your face.

“I’ll hook us up with some girls, blow some steam off,” Blake replies.

My eyes stay glued on Juliet’s house. “Sounds good.”

11:00 p.m.

The bar is loud, the company is hot . . . but my mind isn’t on the scantily dressed women around me.

It’s at home.

With her.

It’s been weeks, and it’s not getting any better. If anything, it’s getting worse.

The more I see her, the more I want her.

She’s all I fucking think about.

I’ve ruined everything with Juliet. I need to work out how to change her mind.

I feel a hand slide up my thigh, and I glance up as I remember where I am. “What are we drinking, Henley?” the hot little redhead purrs.

What is her name?

I exhale heavily. Ugh . . . “I . . .” I pause as I reconsider my options. “I have to get going.”

Blake raises an eyebrow in question. “What?”

“I just remembered something I have to do.”

“Oh no,” the girls sigh. “Don’t leave, the night is young.”

“Sorry.”

“You fucking kidding me right now?” Blake widens his eyes.

“More for you.” I stand and put my hand on his shoulder as I walk past him. “You want them all, admit it.”

“You’re fucked,” he mouths.

I chuckle. “I agree.” I smile to the girls with a nod. “Good night. Have fun.”

Juliet

“It’s getting late,” I say to Joel. “I have to work early in the morning.”

“I’ll get going.”

“Okay.”

It’s the weirdest thing. Joel has been here all week. He’s telling me that we need house-planning time, but the reality is that we don’t talk about my house at all; he just wants to hang out.

Which is fine. He’s a great guy, and in any other circumstance I should be interested. I’m just . . . off men.

“I’ll walk you out,” I say. We walk out the front and down to his car, which is parked on the street. We stop beside it, and his eyes come to me. “Would you like to go out some time?”

I stare at him.

He answers my question before I have a chance to ask it. “Like on a date.”

“Oh . . .” I shrug. “I’m not really”—fuck—“wanting to get into a relationship right now.”

“It’s just dinner, Juliet.” He smiles. “Not a marriage proposal. Relax.”

“Right.” I smile, feeling embarrassed by my dramatic reply. “Sure, why not?”

“Great.”

I step back from him. Please don’t try and kiss me goodbye.

“Next Saturday night?” he asks.

I nod. “Yep. Sounds good.”

Henley’s car pulls into the street and into his driveway. His car turns off.

Don’t look.

“Okay. I’ll see you next week,” I blurt out in a rush to end the conversation. I really don’t want Henley to see me here with Joel. “Goodbye.”

“Bye.” Joel smiles.

I quickly walk inside before Henley gets out of the car. I close the door behind me and lean on the back of it for a moment. Even the sight of his car sends me into overdrive.

Maybe I really should consider moving house?

With a deep sigh I walk into the kitchen and flick on the kettle to make myself a cup of tea.

Knock, knock sounds at the door.