(Lucy — Same Day)

“I cannot believe you did this to me,” Lucy hissed into her phone, pacing furiously outside her new shop.

On the other end of the line, her sister Harper chuckled.
Like this was all one big hilarious joke.

“Relax, Luce,” Harper said breezily. “You love the location. You love the building. Who cares who your neighbor is?”

“Who cares?” Lucy screeched. “Harper, he’s the devil in designer shoes. He’s the reason I lost the Fairmont lease. He practically destroyed my entire career with his stupid—”
She broke off, nearly tripping over a rogue brick on the sidewalk.
“—his stupid everything!”

There was more laughter. “You’re so cute when you’re ragey.”

“I am not cute! I’m murderous!“

“Potato, potahto,” Harper said. “Look, you’re both grownups. You’ll figure it out. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even end up friends.”

Lucy stopped dead in her tracks, scandalized.
“Take that back.”

Harper only cackled harder.
“Okay, okay. Not friends. Maybe just…tolerable acquaintances.”

Lucy groaned and thumped her forehead lightly against the shop door.

She heard a soft chime as the door next to hers swung open.

Speak of the devil.

Lucy turned her head slightly — and there he was.
Miles Bennet, unloading a box from his sleek black SUV, wearing dark jeans, a fitted gray tee, and an expression of mild annoyance like it was permanently etched onto his stupidly symmetrical face.

As if sensing her glare, he glanced over.

Their eyes locked.

Lucy gave him a tight, murderous smile.

He responded with a slow, sarcastic clap — like he was so proud of her for successfully moving a single box into her shop.

Lucy imagined herself throwing her phone at his head.

“Harper,” she muttered into the receiver, “I’m hanging up before I commit a felony.”

“Love you!” Harper sang cheerfully. “Play nice!”

Lucy stabbed the red button to end the call and marched toward the back of the van for another box.

Unfortunately, it was the biggest, heaviest one she had.
And of course, just her luck — the bottom was starting to sag.

She hefted it up with a grunt, trying to balance it against her hip.

“You know,” Miles said lazily from his doorway, “if you drop that on your foot, you’ll probably sue me out of spite.”

Lucy shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass.

“I’m capable, thanks,” she bit out.

The box gave a dangerous creak.

Miles rolled his eyes and strode over before she could protest.
“Here. Before you hurt yourself.”

“I don’t need your help,” she said, trying to adjust her grip.

The box promptly tilted, sending a set of pans sliding dangerously toward the ground.

Miles snatched it out of her hands just in time, his strong arms steadying the load like it weighed nothing.

Lucy scowled at him.
“I had it.”

“Sure you did,” he said dryly, carrying it effortlessly across the sidewalk and into her shop.

She trailed after him, gritting her teeth the whole way.

Miles set the box down with a thud, straightened up, and dusted off his hands.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

Lucy crossed her arms.
“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“No,” he said, smirking slightly, “you just desperately needed it.”

She opened her mouth to argue — but stopped when she saw the way he was fighting a grin.

Almost like he enjoyed riling her up.

Lucy narrowed her eyes.
“You’re insufferable.”

Miles tipped an imaginary hat.
“And you’re charming as always, sunshine.”

Before she could think of a suitable retort, he was already sauntering back to his side of the sidewalk, whistling under his breath.

Lucy stared after him, vibrating with unspent rage.

This was going to be a long, long neighborly relationship.