When Dawn and Destiny were seventeen, and Destiny was ready to pop with Dilan, they stopped in this coastal town called Cave’s Beach. For the first time, Dawn could remember her parents rented a house, and she finished her last year of school. Destiny gave birth and a month before Dilan’s first birthday, their parents told them they were leaving. They were welcome to follow, but they were now eighteen and old enough to make their own way in life. She and Destiny decided to stay.
So for the last almost six years Dawn, Destiny, and Dilan lived in Cave’s Beach. She started her internet business, got a weekend job at Razor, tattoo shop, and once she had enough money saved, she bought the duplex she now lived in. Dawn wanted stability, craved it. She was sick of traveling and never knowing where she was going or how long she’d be there. She needed to know she had a home of her own that would always be there for her. She and Destiny had made a pact when Dilan had been born. They would never be the flighty people their parents were. They would have a plan and make sure Dilan was raised knowing he could count on them, always having a home to go and would feel safe. Truth, stability, discipline, and love were Dawn’s list, and she applied it to everything.
Going back to her computer, she sat at her desk and got back to work before her nephew woke.
****
The duplex was small and old. Gordon had never lived in anything so outdated and small in his life. It was two bedrooms, a lounge room, bathroom, kitchen, and small little laundry. Gordon had never lived in anything this size his whole life. Now he looked around. He thought it might be a bit too low class. All his furniture bar his bed was second hand. He’d wanted to fit into the part he was playing, a single guy on minimum wage.
He’d been here now for over a month and hadn’t met his two neighbors. He’d heard the one in front of him, but the one behind he’d been told when he bought the duplex was a sweet old lady. Gordon found a job as a bartender five nights a week at the local leagues clubs. It was different work to what he was used to doing. He usually sat in an office or wined and dined clients. He’d bartended in college, but that had been to piss his family off. His mother hated that he was doing a meager job when he was born for greater things. Gordon had done a refresher course before starting, and it was slowly coming back to him. The last couple of weeks, he’d been on his feet for eight, sometimes ten hours. He’d forgotten how exhausting bartending could be, and he wasn’t a young twenty-one-year-old anymore.
Gordon was beyond tired. His feet ached, and he now had a better appreciation for the working class man. One good thing about his job—he had met a lot of women. He’d taken quite a few out so far, but they weren’t right.
It was two-thirty a.m., and all he wanted to do was to crawl into bed and sleep. Ripping his clothes off, he threw them on the floor and slid into bed in his boxers, too exhausted to even shower. His head hit the pillow, and that’s when he heard it—the screaming voice with drums and a guitar behind it. Groaning because this was the third time this week this had happened, and the last couple of nights, he’d had enough and called the police, but nothing really seemed to happen. His neighbor still played their loud, screaming music every night.
Exhausted and cranky, he got out of bed and stalked to his door, opening it and headed to his neighbors. He was going to deal with them himself, and when he finished with them, they wouldn’t be blasting their music at ridiculous hours. Banging on the door until finally, after what felt like a good fifteen or so minutes, the door opened, and Gordon stumbled back at the sight before him. A sprite that barely reached his shoulders glared up at him. Her inky black hair sat in a messy bun on top of her head. Her big brown eyes with thick black lashes narrowed on him as her full red lips thinned. She crossed her arms over her more than ample breasts, and he bit his tongue, so he didn’t lick his lips at her shapely body. She was gorgeous, and he felt his cock jerk and rise. This was not what he expected when he knocked on the door.
“What?” she snapped. “You’ve been banging on my door for the last ten minutes. Are you just going to stand there now or are you going to say something?”
Mentally shaking his head and gathering himself back to why he was here, he stared down at the little female. “Yes. It’s after two in the morning. I’d like to get some sleep, but with yawl’s loud music, I can’t.” He knew he was tired when he slipped into his Texas tongue. His parents had spent a lot of money making sure his Texan accent was nonexistent, but at times like this, it slipped through.
She was quiet for a moment as she just stared at him before she sighed and nibbled on her lip. He clenched his fist as his gaze narrowed in on the action, and his now rock hard erection jumped. “So you’re my new neighbor? You American?”
“Yes. And yes,” he snapped, hoping it would crack him out of his lustful thoughts of the little sprite before him.
“You the one who’s been calling the cops?” She tapped her foot, and he noticed her toenails were painted black. Who painted their nails black?
“It’s past two and for the last couple of nights—no, weeks, your screaming music is all I’ve heard until the crack of dawn. So, yes, I did.” He closed his eyes and gathered himself before opening them on a sigh. “I’m sorry.” He was so tired. He just wanted this over, and it was quite cool out tonight. The sprite didn’t say anything. She just stared at him and for the first time he felt awkward. “Look, I work until two a.m. Wednesday through to Sunday. You can have your music as loud as you want until two-thirty, and then, please, get some earphones or turn it off.” She may be beautiful, and his body was interested, but she was his neighbor, and he was tired. Turning around not even bothering to hear if she replied, he hurried back to his duplex. His door was still wide open, and he walked in, slamming it shut before heading to his room where he fell on the bed and let sleep claim him.
****
She’d been baking all morning. Dawn felt guilty. Her neighbor had apologized, and she was being a shit having her music so loud at early hours of the morning. The disheveled guy from last night had looked exhausted. After, she’d tried not to be too obvious at checking his magnificent body and fought to contain her sigh when his Texan accent came out thick. She saw that his eyes had black bags under them, and he had a good day or two of stubble on him. His light ocean blue eyes looked tired as he stared down at her. He was tall, which to her, most people were. She was only five-one, and he was probably close to six foot two maybe taller. The more he spoke in his American accent, the more she had to control her raging hormones that almost had her coming in her panties. So now, she felt terrible for being so rude.