I leaned over the breezeway railing that overlooked the parking lot and searched below until I found a rugged-looking black Jeep with the top off. The Beastie Boys song “Fight for Your Right” reached my ears. I blinked. Damn, it was loud.
The driver was a bulky guy with a black Union Jack hat pulled low over his brow, blocking his face from me, leaving only the ends of his brown hair showing as it curled around the sides. A pair of aviators rested on his nose. Even from here, I saw broad shoulders and taut, muscular forearms as he shifted gears on the manual transmission. I even caught the flash of tattoos on his arms but couldn’t make them out.
Mystery neighbor? It was the same hat from the box.
I found myself leaning over further, arching my neck to see more of him.
Something about a big dude that read Pride and Prejudice made me breathless.
In my head earlier, as we’d gone through the boxes, I’d pictured my neighbor as more the Harry Potter type, a geek with black-rimmed glasses and a shy smile. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Before he pulled out into the traffic, he turned and glanced back at the apartment building, his shielded eyes seeming to zero in on me. His car idled as he looked at me, and even though there were quite a few yards between us, I felt the physical weight of his stare.
I inhaled sharply, goosebumps making the hair on my arms rise up.
Had he seen Shelley going through his things? Shit.
The book! I looked down to see it was still clutched it in my other hand.
Dammit.
Feeling ridiculous, I tore my eyes off him and backed up slowly until he was out of my vision. I propped the book up against his door and bolted for my apartment.
“Who was that?” Shelley asked as I flew in the door.
I shook my head. “It wasn’t Harry Potter, that’s for sure.”