The Nice Guy Next Door (When In Waverly 1)

This is a man, and he is gorgeous. Green eyes meet mine, and I think I just squeaked. A small laugh escapes him, and he looks away from me, trying to hide his amusement.

“Uh…umm…” I mutter. Great. Really eloquent, Millie.

“Are you Millie Parker?” he asks while readjusting his hold on the bags and flowers in his hands.

“I am. Yes.” A look of relief washes over his face, but now I’m more worried than ever. I’ve never met this guy before, so how does he know who I am?

“Can I put these down in the kitchen? They’re getting pretty heavy,” he says and then moves to come inside the house. I block the doorway, prepared to fight this stranger off for as long as I can. Granted, I would only last about half a second against him. He’s about twice my size. But at least I could say I tried.

“I don’t even know who you are,” I say.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Jameson Lane,” he says as though that means something to me, but nothing’s ringing a bell. He blinks a few times and then says, “My grandparents are your landlords. Eilleen has spoken with you several times, I believe.”

I jump as understanding dawns on me. “Oh, right. Yes. Eilleen is your grandmother! I just love her. Hilarious lady,” I say as I move out of the way to let him into the house. He walks over to the kitchen in long strides. He places the items on the counter and then turns to face me. His large hand reaches out for a handshake.

I place my hand in his, and it’s engulfed in his large, calloused grip. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker,” he says, and I get the impression that he really means it. “Is everything to your liking? You haven’t found any issues?”

“Oh, it’s just Miss,” I say and hold up my ringless finger. “Everything is perfect,” I continue, glancing around the room. It’s clear that his grandparents have put a lot of work into this home. The appliances are all new, the walls are painted in a cool gray tone, and the wood floors are smooth and shiny. “Lo is so excited about her bedroom.”

“Is Lo your daughter?” he asks in a quieter voice than I’ve heard from him so far.

“Lo is my younger sister. She’s sixteen. Well, almost seventeen. She’ll be starting at the high school on Monday. She’s a junior, and I hated to have to move her to a new school right in the middle of high school, but we had to move for my new job at the library. Harris was a great town to grow up in, but I think Waverly will be good too. She promised she was fine with it. Do you think she was being honest with me?” I look up at him when I ask the question and see a twinkle in his eye and a repressed smile on his mouth.

Just fabulous.

I have a tendency to ramble when I feel awkward. Someone looks at me funny? Ramble. Long silence? Ramble. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my entire life is standing in front of me? Ramble, apparently.

“I don’t know of many teenagers who would lie about being okay with changing schools. I’d bet she was telling you the truth,” he assures me. I breathe a sigh of relief. If I had been forced to change schools in the middle of high school, I would have thrown a tantrum the size of Texas. Lo has always been more ‘go with the flow’ than me. I hate change. I’m a nervous wreck thinking about starting over in this new town. I want to rush back to Harris, where I grew up, and beg my friends to come to Waverly with me.

“Anyway,” he starts. His loud voice startles me out of my reverie. “Sorry. I was ordered to bring you some basic groceries: bread, peanut butter, some vegetables out of my nana’s—Eilleen, as you know her—garden…” My ears perk up at the mention of garden-fresh veggies. I walk over to the bags and rifle through the items. There’s so much color in the bags! Squash, zucchini, tomatoes, carrots, bell peppers. I can hardly contain my excitement.

“Please tell Eilleen thank you for me. It’s very kind of her,” I say.

“That’s my nana for you. She’s always trying to feed someone,” he says with a laugh and an eye roll.

She sounds like a lovely person, if you ask me. I never got to meet either of my grandmothers. The only grandparent I ever knew was my dad’s father, but he died when I was very young. From what I can remember of him, he was a quiet, reserved man. Kind, but not overly affectionate. It was hard growing up with only a father when all of my friends had both of their parents, grandparents, and a whole slew of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Don’t misunderstand me, Daddy was amazing. He did everything for me and Lo.

Not having a support system stressed him out much of the time, though. I remember him sitting at the kitchen table with a calculator and the month’s bills and fisting his hands in his hair. I hated that he had to do everything alone. I hated my mom for leaving us just two months after Lo was born.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the moving truck pull up into the circular drive. Jameson looks over and sees the truck. “Well, I guess I’ll be getting out of your hair so you can get to work. Please let me know if you need anything—anything at all. I actually live just next door,” he says and points in the direction of the adorable light-blue house across the yard from me. The expression on his face looks sincere, almost pleading. His is a kind face, I realize, and it would be nice to have a friend in a new town. I nod my head at his suggestion.

“Here, let me write down my number for you,” he says, and he takes a pen and a tiny notepad out of his chest pocket. He scribbles down his phone number and hands it over to me. I hold it in my hand and look at his hastily written number. “Alright, I will see you later. Tell Lo I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet her.” He winks and walks to the front door.

I watch in stunned silence as he slides those long legs into his patrol car and then drives away. Lo suddenly decides it's safe to come out of her room as soon as his car is out of sight. “What was that about?” she asks.

“He lives next door, and his grandparents are our landlords. Eilleen wanted him to drop off vegetables from her garden.”

“You mean to tell me that perfect piece of man-flesh lives fifteen feet from us, and we’ll be seeing him on a regular basis?” she asks and fans her face like the drama queen she is.

“If you think he’s so gorgeous, why did you hide in your room?” I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her answer. Lo is not typically the boy-crazy type. She’s not one to lose her head over anyone, and she’s not constantly jumping from crush to crush. But it’s impossible to deny how attractive Jameson is.

“And make an idiot of myself like you just did? Ha!” she says with a laugh.

“Oh, stop it! He seems like a nice guy.” I smack her arm to get her to stop laughing.

The movers are at the door, waiting for instructions. Time to put Jameson out of my mind, but only after I make a quick note in my phone to change the hero in the top-secret novel I’m writing from a blond-haired, blue-eyed hunk to a dark-haired, green-eyed heart throb—a much dreamier combination, I’m discovering.

I smile contentedly and slip my phone into my back pocket. Time to get to work making this house a home.