Neighbors (Entangled Flirts) by L.S. Murphy

Chapter One
    The moving van blocked my car on the street outside my building. Thanks to a freak storm knocking out the power the night before, I was already running late for an appointment halfway across the city. The meteorologists in St. Louis should just add “we think” to every forecast to save themselves the trouble. Of course, my mother would have said I was always late, no matter what the reason. It’s her favorite complaint, besides pointing out her lack of grandchildren. Never mind my two older brothers with three kids between them.
    “You’re not getting any younger, Rena,” she chided the night before as we had our weekly phone conversation. Mom loved using my name against me as added emphasis. “You’ll be thirty in a few years. And it’s all downhill from there.”
    Such a positive influence.
    The cars were covered in summer leaves. The winds had sent tree limbs to the center of the streets. Despite the storm, the air had already lost its “fresh rain” scent and regained the heavy humidity of a St. Louis summer.
    Soulard’s neighborhood association had a policy that movers could not start until after nine o’clock in the morning. It was ten minutes until nine, which was also the time I was supposed to meet my biggest client.
    I hammered my palm against the door of the moving van, leaving a wet handprint on the white paint. A guy with dark hair cut in the traditional USMC hairstyle—short on the sides with an inch on top—leaned out the window. He lowered his wraparound sunglasses and cocked an eyebrow. A smirk played above his stubbled jaw. I wanted to smile back—guys with dimples were a weak point for me—but I was running way too late to flirt. Too bad.
    “Could you move? You’re blocking me in.” I motioned to my red hatchback, which my best friend Maddie had dubbed “The Tomato.”
    He stuck his arm out the window and opened the door from the outside. His dark, sleeveless t-shirt revealed a tattoo of the eagle, anchor, and globe on a tight bicep. I figured he was around my age, give or take a year or three. As he climbed down, my gaze traced each curve of his athletic frame until the prosthetic caught my attention. I felt his eyes on me as I stared too long at the fake leg.
    “Are you done yet?” he snapped with a voice hardened by the Corps. It was the same voice my uncle, a retired sergeant, used on my cousins. It made you want to stand at attention and shout “Yes, sir” at the top of your lungs.
    Before I could come up with a decent sounding apology for letting my eyes linger too long where they shouldn’t have, he stalked past me and around the back of the truck. His elbow brushed against the bare skin of my arm. Goosebumps spread to my shoulder. It’d been too long since a guy, any guy, made that happen. Just freaking great. I don’t have time for this. I spun on my heel and hurried after him, glad he didn’t see the embarrassment color my cheeks. Good job, Rena. Piss off the hot Marine. It’s not like you haven’t seen a guy with a prosthetic before.
    He glared at the Tomato as if it offended him by its presence. Without turning to look at me, he reached his hand back and barked an order. “Gimme your keys.”
    “Excuse me?” This man may be used to people obeying him, but I was not in the Corps.
    “There’s room to get her out.” He thrust his hand toward me as he glanced over his shoulder. “Give me your keys.”
    “I’m not giving my car keys to a complete stranger.” My voice was calm despite the rage that bubbled inside me. How dare this jackass think he can order me around? “Move your damned truck.”
    He smirked, turning to face me at last, and shoved his glasses on top of his head. With at least half a foot on me, he bent down until our noses were inches apart. If he wasn’t such an arrogant ass, and if I wasn’t in a massive hurry, closing those last inches would’ve been worth the thrill. At least I thought so until he opened his mouth