Hardest of Hearts

Chapter 2: The Rudest Man in the Upper West Side

When I turn back to the now-opened door, I get an eyeful of tanned muscles and have to crane my neck just to see his face. Christ, his head of brown curls nearly scrapes the top of the doorway.

Fuck.

Of course my annoying neighbor has to be hot.

With green eyes, a chiseled jaw, and high cheekbones, if he was a bartender, I'd easily add him to my rotation.

"How can I help you?" he asks, his voice deep and vaguely amused. He knows exactly why I'm here.

"For starters, you could play your music a little quieter."

His mouth twitches. "Not a fan of rock?"

"No."

My deadpan response doesn't faze him in the slightest. If anything, he looks infinitely more amused. "Okay, what else?" At my questioning look, he continues, "You said for starters, implying that there's something else I could do to help you. What would that be?"

"You could put on a shirt." Seriously, who does he think he is, answering doors half-naked? Some werewolf from a bad romance book?

"Noted."

Relieved that getting him to turn down the music wasn't an overly difficult ordeal, I go back into my apartment.

But the moment I shut the door, the music resumes.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

Just like five minutes earlier, I pound on his door. Also just like five minutes earlier, he makes me wait before opening it.

"Yes?" he asks, his tone rich with pseudo innocence.

"Did you not just agree to turn down your shitty music?" My eyes flicker to his still bare chest. "And wearing clothes when strangers come to your door to berate you for it."

The flecks of yellow in his eyes seem to sparkle. "I recall you telling me to turn down my music and put on a shirt, but I never agreed. I told you that your requests were noted, but unfortunately, subsequently denied."

"Thanks for the play-by-play. It would have been helpful if we didn't just have this conversation five minutes ago. Just turn it down."

"No."

My jaw falls to the floor when he closes the door in my face. Before I can pick it back up off the ground, the music plays even louder.

Oh hell, no.

After another minute of pounding on his door, he opens it again, a smile playing on his lips. "Can't get enough of me, I see."

I blink, in total disbelief of his refusal to turn down the music. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing, as far as I'm aware."

Cocky bastard.

"It's rude to play music so loud this late at night! People are trying to sleep!"

"Usually, I would agree. But I'm merely returning the favor, sweetheart." Again, with the fake innocence in his tone.

"Don't call me that." I scowl. "And what favor?"

"Keeping you from sleeping. I myself was in the throes of a very deep slumber when I was so very rudely awoken." He pauses. "John, was it?"

"You were listening to me have sex?" I ask incredulously. Now that I think about it, my bedroom shares a wall with his apartment. In my defense, I didn't even know anyone had moved in.

"Didn't give me or the rest of the Upper West Side much of a choice, sweetheart." Now, his voice drips with dry humor. "I'd ask you if something was wrong with the bed tonight, but I know that's not the case, since your headboard slamming against wall woke me up two nights ago. Adam, right?"

For a minute, I'm tongue tied, floored by his abrasive words. "Slut shaming is overrated."

"Oh, I'm not shaming your game, sweetheart. I understand why you traded Adam for John. You were much louder tonight than you were two days ago."

There's no way in hell I'm actually having a conversation with my neighbor about my sex life. "Are you trying to aggravate me?"

He flashes a set of brilliantly white teeth. "Just paying it forward. If I don't get any sleep, neither will you." He slowly begins closing the door. "Sleep well." Before it fully shuts, he adds, "Or not."

My mind still not fully comprehending what the fuck just happened, I go back into my apartment and attempt to continue painting, but it's impossible to focus with the music still blaring.

Giving up on working for the night, I wash the dried paint off my skin and change into my pajamas, hoping that by the time I get into bed, the music will shut off.

It doesn't.

I lie in bed, fuming. I don't think I've ever met someone more rude in my life. It's not just his unwillingness to be amenable that pisses me off, but the way he so outrightly called me out. Who the hell brings up the topic of sex with someone they barely know?

Okay, well, I would, but definitely not with my neighbor. I have a firm policy about never hooking up with someone that I could potentially cross paths with often. That's why Penny and I rarely go to the same bar twice.

Groaning, I roll over and pull my pillow around my ears to soften the noise.

No such luck.