And Then It Happened: An Unexpected Romance Read online

  And Then It Happened: An Unexpected Romance

  Annie Green

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, facts and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is strictly coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Annie Green; All rights reserved.

  Dedication

  To my husband who thought this book should be named D-Bags Anonymous.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter One

  The rumble through the wall was so incredibly loud that I burned myself with my straightening iron.

  “Damn, piece of poo, holy mother,” I muttered as I quickly ran my hand under cool water. The thumping of the bass only seemed to grow louder as I stood in my bathroom fuming.

  Adrian Thatcher, the neighbor who lived in the townhouse adjoined to mine was the reason earplugs existed. Since I’d moved into this damn place, I’d bought more than enough to last me until the apocalypse. And I needed them. Between the loud music and the constant sex he was having, I hadn’t slept well in ages.

  And to be a rational human being, I needed my sleep. Which was why I ended up resigning from my job today. It wasn’t totally Adrian’s fault because I had been on the precipice of quitting for months, but my inability to put up with BS anymore was why I marched into my boss’s office and quit. I wasn’t sure if I was more relieved or scared about my sudden decision. Now I really couldn’t afford to put off my artwork anymore.

  I pounded on the wall of my bathroom as loudly as possible, but knew that wouldn’t help. It did help alleviate my frustration though, which was part of the reason I’d taken up boxing at the gym recently. Every time my fist landed on the punching bag, I thought of Adrian’s face being smashed in. His pretty little face and his perfect smile crushed by my blow.

  I was irrationally mad. My hand throbbed and I could feel my skin begin to blister. He really needed to be stopped. Barbarians only existed in historical fiction, but Adrian was living proof the rare breed still existed today. He only needed a beard and a rusty axe and it would be the complete picture.

  I didn’t even bother to pull on a sweater as I stormed downstairs and out my front door. It was a little cold for a spring day in March in Southern California. The breeze bit my skin, but I barely noticed. I was a woman on a mission. A mission to take down the enemy force and his god-awful music.

  A second later, I was ringing his doorbell. And I didn’t stop ringing it until the door lazily swung open. Thankfully his music had been turned down in the process.

  “What do you want?” Adrian asked as I placed my hands on my hips and shot him my meanest scowl.

  “Turn your shit music down,” I said as I bared my teeth.

  He rolled his eyes to the ceiling like I had just stuck my tongue out at him. “Suck my dick...” he said as he leaned his muscular body against the doorframe. My eyes snapped over his biceps, hard pectorals and tight abs in admiration while my mind screamed for me to focus. So in order to appease my angry brain, I did my best to ignore the fact he was wearing boxers and the dick he just spoke about was hard and straining against his underwear. Did he really have to be so damn sexy? Why couldn’t he have been a modern day villain with acne and a beer gut?

  “...Janice,” he finished with a smirk.

  That name snapped me back to reality. I hated it when he called me that. It made me feel like a sixty year old virgin librarian who wore yellow Crocs. Dicks forgotten, I scowled once more at him.

  “That's not my name, asshole,” I said as I shoved at his bare chest. I tried to ignore the tingle that spread through me as my skin met his and was overtly proud that I didn’t let my hands linger. He really was a work of art, a modern Adonis. It was too bad, really, because if it were anyone else, I’d be literally begging him to pose for me.

  “Janet, Janice. Same thing,” he said with a shrug.

  “It’s Jane, you sonofabitch.”

  He blinked at me like I was talking gibberish. “Like I said. Same thing.”

  “You’re seriously the worst person I've ever met.”

  “And you're a nag. So we're even.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You wish,” he said with a cocky smile, showing off his expensive teeth. No one had naturally perfect teeth. But knowing Adrian, they probably were like that when he first sprouted teeth. I hated him even more.

  “Ugh,” I huffed in anger and nearly stomped my foot. Nearly. I hadn’t resorted to childish gestures yet. Normally, I was a recluse, happy to spend most of my time indoors, but Adrian forced me to come out of my shell or else be walked on. I chose the former. I wasn’t about to be stomped all over by a shirtless hottie who had the moral fiber of a granola bar…an organic, fat free granola bar.

  His eyes, which were astutely fixed on mine dropped suddenly and his lips turned up in a half smirk. “I can see your tits through that slutty little top.”

  His comment had me blinking rapidly before I clutched at my shirt defensively. “Well, I can see your dick, pervert,” I stuttered. “I mean, who answers the door like this?”

  He glanced down at his crotch before his gaze met mine. “I do and why are you looking at it? Who's the pervert now?”

  His question had me placing my hands on my hips and scowling, “How does that make me a pervert? I'm not the one answering the door with an erection!”

  “Well, just stand here a little longer and it will go away.”

  I folded my arms tightly across my chest and exhaled loudly, “Whatever. You're a jackass. I hope your dick falls off.”

  “And now I know why you’re single, Janet. You are as exciting and creative as a piece of cardboard.”

  The comment, while not overtly rude, hit me somewhere in my middle. My eyes filled with involuntary tears and I blinked rapidly. It shouldn’t have bothered me so much, but it did because it seemed to solidify what I’d become. I was an awkward, loser singleton with only one friend. To top it off I had never had a sex-induced orgasm in my entire life.

  I didn’t want him to see my cry so I turned away quickly, my feet tangling beneath me. I swore as I was suspended in the air before I flopped onto the ground with an unladylike thunk. I landed right on my knees, twisting my wrist in the process.

  Great. Just great. Now I was going to have to wait to begin the series of paintings I knew would probably generate interest. If I were into painting postmodern crap it wouldn’t have mattered. I could have slopped on a crooked blue line and called it an apple, but I took more pride in my work than that. I actually painted still lifes, which took a good eye and coordination to pull off.

  As pain screamed up my arm, I felt strong hands lifting me up as if I weighed nothing. I dangled in the air for only a second right before I was planted firmly in Adrian’s bare arms. Which felt disgustingly nice as they bunched up against me.

  “Janice, you okay?” Adrian asked, his breath moving across my cheek.

  “It’s Jane and let go of me,” I demanded half-heartedly. “I didn’t break my legs. I can walk.”

  “Shut up. Now you're just being stubborn.”

  “I don’t w
ant you touching me,” I spat, as I cradled my wrist against me. “You’re ruining everything.”

  Adrian snorted like he didn’t believe me as he strode confidently up the stairs. I hated him even more for not even breaking a sweat.

  We finally made it to the upstairs bathroom, which was cleaner than I expected it to be. For some reason I had imagined garbage cans filled to the brim with used condoms and hair in the shower. There was neither and I found myself searching for something to use against him. I came up empty.

  Gently, Adrian set me down onto the floor and I wobbled slightly before gaining my balance. Leaning against the counter, I watched as he held out his hands. He had nice hands, large and strong. Ugh, I thought, mentally slapping myself.

  Just run your tongue up the vein in his forearm like you want to. Stop being such a prude.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my eyes narrowing in suspicion at his outstretched hands.

  “Give me your arm. I want to see if it’s broken.”

  “It’s not. It’s fine,” I said, holding my arm away from him.

  “It doesn’t look fine. Let me look at it.”

  “No.”

  His eyebrows rose, causing his golden brown eyes to widen. He watched me for a moment before saying, “Fine, then I’m taking you to the Urgent Care.”

  “I don’t have insurance, so there. No Urgent Care for me.”

  He brushed his short brown hair from his face, causing it to fall adorably onto his forehead. “Well then, even more reason for me to look at it.”

  He was right. Not that I was going to admit it out loud. It was either him or a shady ‘doctor’ who operated his practice out of the back of a windowless van and bought surgical supplies from the dollar store. Reluctantly, I held out my wrist and tried not to sigh as his skin rubbed against mine. Traitor body, I thought as he leaned down and peered at my wrist, his thumbs gingerly running along my hand.

  “Doesn’t look broken.”

  “Told you so,” I replied snottily. It was either that or run my tongue along the inside of his neck.

  His eyes snapped up to meet mine and I looked away, flushing as I wondered if he could read my mind.

  “I think it’s just sprained,” he finally said.

  “Duh.”

  He ignored my childish retort and asked, “You hurt anywhere else?”

  Now that he mentioned it, my knees did sting a little. Not that I would tell him that.

  “Nope.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, Janet.”

  “My name’s Jane,” I said between clenched teeth. How did he not know that by now? We’d lived next door to each other for months. Months! He was either as obtuse as he appeared or he enjoyed pissing me off.

  “Right,” he said as he reached out and moved me toward the toilet seat. “Sit.”

  I did as he asked because I didn’t want to seem like an obstinate shrew.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, as his fingers fumbled with the bottoms of my tight yoga pants.

  “Seeing if you’re lying,” he began before leaning back on his heels and sighing. “I need you to stand up. Your pants are too goddamn tight.”

  I rolled my eyes, but pushed myself up anyway, nearly falling over when he reached up and tried to tug my pants down. It was a good thing they hugged my hips or else everything would have been exposed to him in seconds. And I wasn’t wearing any underwear.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I asked, my cheeks flaming red, my good hand immediately slapping his away.

  “Seeing if your knees are scraped up like I think they are.”

  “They’re fine,” I said, tugging my pants up. “You can’t just go pulling people’s pants down.”

  “I don’t pull people’s pants down. I was pulling yours down.”

  “Well, I’m fine, so I’m going to go now.”

  “Not until I do my civic duty.”

  “What are you? A doctor? You are not seeing me with my pants down.”

  His lips crooked up in a smile. “I bet you say that to all the guys before you end up naked in their bed.”

  I wanted to slap him, but my wrist hurt too much. Instead I just scowled, “For your information I don’t sleep around.”

  “I can see that, Janice. No wonder you’re so frigid.”

  “I am not!”

  Adrian stood up and placed his hands across his perfectly sculpted chest. “You can keep denying it, but it’s the truth. You wonder why you spend your nights alone…”

  “I have plenty of guys who are interested in me,” I said defensively even though Adrian was right. I hadn’t been on a date in eight years and I hadn’t been properly laid in months. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but no one was particularly interested in what I had to offer. Not that I ever put myself out there. I was pretty reclusive. But what artist wasn’t?

  That’s just your excuse. You’re scared you’re going to be turned down. Rejected. Kicked to the curb once again.

  Adrian’s voice broke into my nagging mind. “I just don’t understand it. It’s not like you’re ugly…”

  I stared at him in mortification because what he’d just said wasn’t a compliment. I’d seen the women walking in and out of his door. All of them had perfect hair, big boobs and wore excessive amounts of makeup. And they were all tall and willowy, like models. I was the opposite. I had wavy brown hair that hung just over my shoulders, a petite frame and I rarely wore makeup. I knew I wasn’t his type and from how he treated me, I had a feeling he thought I was disgusting. Like great-aunt-Vern-who-wears-orange-lipstick-and-has-purple-hair ugly.

  “…You have potential,” he continued.

  “Potential? I think I’m fine just the way I am.”

  Well, you could benefit from some bigger boobs and maybe a little makeup. Oh, and maybe if you were just a little taller…

  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” he replied casually, unaware of the dialogue running through my head.

  “Well, you could use a little work yourself,” I countered.

  Adrian leaned against the wall and arched an eyebrow at me in disbelief. “Oh can I?”

  “Yes. You may look good on the outside…”

  “Thank you.”

  “…but inside you’re a complete jackass. You may be able to get girls, but I doubt you can keep them.”

  His eyes narrowed, the mood suddenly shifting in my favor. “Trust me, I can keep them.”

  I snorted and smiled widely. “Yeah, sure. I’ve never seen the same girl walking into your house…”

  “Now you’re spying on me? How bored are you?”

  I ignored his distraction technique. “That can’t make you happy, Adrian. At some point, you’ll want someone to love you, but who’ll want you when you’re such a dick?”

  I saw the muscle in his jaw flex as he watched me and I knew I struck a chord.

  “I bet it gets lonely in this place all by yourself,” I added smugly.

  “I’m never alone,” he responded quickly. Too quickly.

  “I know that,” I said because I did know. I heard him having sex on an almost nightly basis. “But I bet you wish you had someone to come home to. And I don’t mean those bimbos always walking through your door.”

  Adrian pushed himself away from the wall and gestured toward the doorway. “Thanks for the therapy session. How much do I owe you, Janette?”

  I sauntered past him with a knowing glare. “Nailed it, didn’t I?”

  “Not at all, Judy.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re just as terrible a liar as I am,” I said as I made my way down his hallway.

  “At least I’m better looking,” he quipped, following me down the stairs.

  “You might be, but I have something you don’t.”

  “And what’s that?” He opened the door for me and I stood in the doorway feeling superior for the first time since moving in.

  “I’m actually loveable. Something must be really wrong with you to keep driving th
ose women away.”

  “Right. Whatever makes you feel better,” he said. And if I hadn’t been so consumed by my obvious victory, I would have seen that the twinkle in his eye wasn’t there. But I was, so I turned around with flare and strode, well, more like limped, to my door with my head held high.

  For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was the best. Like I could do anything and no one could stop me.

  ***

  I woke up the next morning, unsure of what to do with myself. I had no job, which meant I really had no reason to get out of bed when the doorbell rang. In fact, I huddled under my comforter for a full ten minutes after the rude awakening before rubbing my eyes and glancing at the clock.

  It was almost noon. Holy crap. I hadn’t slept in this late since I was thirteen and stayed up all night at a slumber party. But living next to Adrian was somewhat similar to an ongoing party. Between the loud music and the constant screaming, I felt like I was living next to a frat house.

  Speaking of which, I hadn’t heard his music blasting last night, which was a relief. I also didn’t hear him banging it up with some loud, extremely vocal woman who screamed things like ‘spank me harder’ or ‘harder, harder, HARDER’ or some other phrase with ‘hard’ in it. I couldn’t help but wonder if the women he slept with were clones of one another. None of them ever said anything remotely fascinating during sex. They just screamed and moaned and (I imagined) writhed about. But last night there was none of that. No wonder I felt so rested.

  Perhaps my ‘therapy’ session with him was life changing and he’d given up sex forever.

  I snorted at the absurdity of it as I trudged down the stairs and opened my door, squinting as the sun invaded my line of sight. That was the problem with Southern California. It was always so damn sunny. Seasons couldn’t catch a break out here. They might as well just give up and retire.

  I glanced around, annoyed that someone had actually taken the time to doorbell ditch me when I saw a small package lying on my doorstep.

  Reaching down, I grabbed it, immediately scanning for a return address. There wasn’t one. Shrugging, I strode inside and ripped into the package, not even bothering to consider that it may contain something like a bomb or Anthrax. What I found was much worse.