Read No Sweeter Love (Sweeter in the City Book 3) Online
Authors: Olivia Miles
No Sweeter Love (Sweeter in the City Book 3) (16 page)
Ben cursed under his breath and hurried with his key as the sound of a nose blowing filled the small hallway. But damn it, he wasn’t quick enough. From behind him he could hear the turning of the locks over a few determined sniffles, and then a voice, small and sweet, saying, “Excuse me?”
Ben closed his eyes. He’d seen the sign on the stairwell door. The petition for a proper recycling program for the building—no doubt she’d want to talk to him about it, ask why he hadn’t signed it yet, if he perhaps didn’t believe in recycling.
Since moving into the building, the girl across the hall was full of perky ideas for improvement. There had been the suggestion of the community garden on that back patch of dirt one might call a yard, an initiative for a “spruced up” laundry room in that cave of a basement, and the call for “beautifying” the front entryway, whatever that meant. And who could forget the invitation to an ice cream social to “get to know your neighbor.” When one sign came down, another went up. Next thing, she’d probably be suggesting a progressive dinner! Just another reason he’d been sure to avoid her.
He turned, raising what he hoped to be a polite but not entirely interested eyebrow and stared flatly at the girl across the hall. She was a several years younger than him, probably in her mid to late twenties, and she was pretty, not that it mattered. He had to admit he was slightly curious to discover that little miss sunshine had actually been crying, but he resisted the urge to ask the reason. It wasn’t his business, and he knew from experience that when things were rough, it was better to be left alone.
Her big brown eyes were puffy, swollen, and red rimmed. He swallowed, suddenly feeling like a jerk. In all the time they’d share the third floor, he’d barely spoken to her, and that was only in response to her initiation. He didn’t even know her name. Giving her a name would be making her real, making her someone he’d have to acknowledge, chat with about the weather—and all that would make it entirely too difficult to overlook the way her auburn hair bounced at her shoulders and her pink lips pouted when she stood at the mailbox, inspecting the day’s letters.
Only right now that hair was sort of standing on end, half pulled back in a messy ponytail, the rest frizzing out in every direction. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes bright and watery, and damn it if that didn’t make her even more attractive.
“I was down near the mailboxes today, and I noticed—”
He held up a hand. “Look, I know this recycling thing is important to you, but it seems to me that you have all the signatures you need. I have a lot on my plate right now, and while I support the cause, I just don’t have time to pitch in with all these little building initiatives.”
The girl’s eyes flashed in surprise and then narrowed a fraction. “That isn’t the reason I wanted to speak to you, actually, but now that you mention it, thank you for letting me know. I’ll be sure to include a note on my next little building initiative that it pertains to everyone but you.” Her nostrils flared slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest.
Ben dragged out a sigh. He suddenly missed Bonnie terribly. Bonnie, the fifty-some-year-old woman who had lived across the hall for years before he’d come along, who was content to wave a simple greeting, who needed nothing more from this world than her tabby cat and her boxed wine. Bonnie didn’t knock on his door. Or create petitions. Bonnie might not have been beautiful, as her replacement was, but oh, she had been the ideal neighbor.
He suddenly wondered what had happened to Bonnie, and shame bit at him when he realized he hadn’t even said a proper good-bye.
Maybe his sister was right. Maybe his life was unraveling.
“Look, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant that I—”
Now it was her turn to hold up her hand, even if it did clutch a balled up and soggy-looking tissue. “I know, I know. Don’t worry. I’m not here to harass you into being neighborly. I wanted to let you know that I received some mail for you. At least, I think it’s for you. It has your apartment number on it, but it’s addressed to someone named Violet.” She tipped her head in question, and Ben felt his body stiffen in defense.
“Yes, that’s for me, then. I mean, for Violet.”
The girl’s eyebrows pinched slightly. “I don’t know why I thought you lived alone. But then, I just moved in and I’m rarely here on evenings and weekends.”
And when you are here, you’re busy making petitions, Ben thought to himself.
The girl disappeared behind the door for a minute and came back with a small box in her hands. It was the necklace he had ordered for Violet’s birthday. “Thank you,” he said gratefully.
“Well, that’s what neighbors are for,” the girl said, and with a purse of her lips, began closing her door.
“Wait,” Ben said, and then clamped his mouth shut, cursing himself. He knew the type. Outgoing. Happy. Fun. Eager to be involved, to rally people together. She was looking for some big happy family, and he . . .well, he’d had that. Lost it. “Is . . .everything okay?”
Well, now he’d done it. Gone and done the right thing. Next thing he knew she’d be stopping by to borrow sugar, not that he had any.
She blinked at him a few times, her cheeks reddening. “It’s just . . .It’s been a bad day.” She gave a watery smile.
Ben gave a small grin. “I’ve had a few of those myself,” he admitted.
Her smile was a little easier. “I’m Mary, by the way.”
“Ben,” he said, but she was already nodding.
“I know.”
Of course she did. She’d swept into the building with an eager smile, full of cheerful hellos and good-nights, a friend to everyone from the garden level up through the second floor within a week. Alarm bells started to ring in his head. Time to leave, Ben. Time to go. End this politely, step inside your apartment, and shut the door behind you. And lock it. “Well, good night, then. And thank you.”
“As I said. That’s what neighbors are for.” She smiled, a sight so sweet, with those full pink lips and rosy cheeks and bright eyes that he felt himself waver.
Ben clutched the box tighter in his hand, thinking of his daughter, the tears in her eyes when he’d moved out, and tightened his resolve. There were lots of pretty girls in this city. Didn’t mean he was looking.
He only needed one girl in his life from now on. And she was five years old.
***
Could this day get any worse? Mary stared at her reflection in her bathroom mirror and watched as another tear slipped down her mascara-stained cheek.
Nope, she decided. It couldn’t.
Had she known that she looked like something out of, well, a horror movie, she might have thought twice about opening the door and handing over the package to her oh so hot and oh so aloof next-door neighbor. Here she’d convinced herself that her cheeks were probably just nicely flushed from crying, and it hadn’t felt right to withhold the package, especially when she rarely crossed paths with the man and didn’t know when she would again. She didn’t like the idea of knocking on his door—he hadn’t been very receptive the first time she’d done that, giving her a long, borderline menacing stare that made her heart speed up and her words stumble, when all she’d been hoping to ask him for was the code to the storage locker in the basement—and not knowing the contents of the package, it didn’t seem responsible to leave it on his doormat.
So instead she’d done the right thing. And made a complete fool of herself in the process.
She sniffed again and then flicked off the light. Oh, well. So the guy was good looking and no doubt thought she was unstable or something. He was also, she knew from experience, a total jerk. And hadn’t she dealt with enough of those lately? It didn’t matter what he thought of her. Not when she didn’t think too highly of him herself.
Besides, he apparently lived with someone named Violet. He was probably married.
Mary wandered into the kitchen and filled the kettle for tea. Then, on second thought, she plucked a bottle of wine from the fridge instead. One drink, she thought. One drink and then she’d sit down with her bills, clean up this apartment she could barely pay for, clear up this mess she’d created for herself.
On the bright side, she thought, she’d been so busy worrying about the shop all day, she’d barely even thought about Jason.
She rewarded herself with a piece of chocolate for that. Maybe there was hope for her yet.
Curious about what happens with Ben and Mary?
SWEETER THAN SUNSHINE is on sale now.
Grand Central Publishing/Forever
Mistletoe on Main Street
A Match Made on Main Street
Hope Springs on Main Street
Love Blooms on Main Street
Christmas Comes to Main Street
Harlequin Special Edition
‘Twas the Week Before Christmas
Recipe for Romance
Sweeter in the City Series
Sweeter in the Summer
Sweeter Than Sunshine
No Sweeter Love
One Sweet Christmas – COMING SOON!
Olivia Miles is a bestselling author of contemporary romance published by Harlequin and Grand Central Publishing’s Forever imprint. A city girl with a fondness for small town charm, Olivia enjoys highlighting both ways of life in her stories. She currently resides just outside Chicago with her husband, daughter, and two ridiculously pampered pups. Olivia loves connecting with readers. Visit her website at
www.oliviamilesbooks.com
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Copyright © 2016 Megan Leavell
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