Mandy Boerma
“There is no way Hot Neighbor Guy has a dead body in that bag.”
If Sydney said it again, maybe it would be true. She turned in the driver’s seat and looked over her white Golden Retriever, Steve, in the backseat, to see the neighbor with his perfectly tussled dark hair, set the bag behind his car as he popped his trunk open.
Her sister, Jenny, opened the car door and stared unabashedly at the neighbor before ducking back into the car. “Nope. That’s a body bag, and there’s something in it. I would know.”
Sydney rolled her eyes. Her sister would know—working in the morgue. But Sydney had seen her fair share working as a nurse in the ER.
“Is that blood on his shirt?” Jenny hissed before she stood, closed the car door, and jogged into the house, leaving Sydney alone.
Steve whined in the back seat. Okay, so Jenny hadn’t left her completely alone with a serial killer. But Steve wouldn’t be a lot of help if her crazed neighbor decided to stuff her in one of those bags.
Sydney climbed out of the car and opened the back door for the dog, the leash in her hand. Before she could latch it on the dog’s collar, he leaped past her, knocking her into the door and making a break across the street for Hot Neighbor Guy’s yard.
“Steve!” Sydney sprinted after her dog. He stopped next to Hot Neighbor Guy, who had just closed his trunk and tossed a backpack over his muscled shoulder.
Of course, the dog didn’t listen, and he greeted Hot Neighbor Guy like they were long-lost BFFs. In turn, Hot Neighbor Guy kneeled in front of the dog. Steve immediately sniffed the bag. If there was a dead body in there, Steve might ferret it out. Then the neighbor really might be willing to add a second body, and a dog, to his bag.
Sydney slowed her steps and immediately clipped the leash onto Steve’s collar. “I’m so sorry. Steve doesn’t normally run off like that.”
“Steve?” Hot Neighbor Guy’s voice held a rich timbre as he stood. Wow. He could get paid to read books, the news, or anything. Maybe that’s how he lured people into his trap.
“My dog. I’m so sorry. I hope your bag’s okay.”
“I’m sure Melvin’s fine. He’s never complained.”
Melvin couldn’t complain if he was dead. Did she need to grab the bag and run? It looked heavy and awkward to carry. Sydney took a step back. Maybe she should just call the police. The red on his shirt could be blood. What did she really know?
“It’s paint.” Hot Neighbor Guy’s voice rumbled again as he gestured to his chest. “Ran into the art teacher on my way out of school.”
A teacher? Likely excuse. Sydney tugged on the leash, but Steve had planted himself down in the yard and panted happily. There was no moving him until he wanted to. Hot Neighbor Guy relaxed against his car. His lips quirked in an adorable grin, and his biceps flexed as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Holy Smokes. He didn’t look like a killer, but do they ever?
Hot Neighbor Guy’s deep voice sounded again. “You work at the hospital?”
She must have given him a strange look because he gestured to her outfit.
Oh, she still had her scrubs on with her name badge. “Yes. ER.”
He nodded, his warm brown eyes as hot as melted chocolate. My. Word. He might be a serial killer, and she could get trapped with his grin, those eyes, his voice.
Bad, Sydney. Get out. Go home. “Well, I’ll be going.”
She stepped back, and her heel stuck on in the soft ground next to the sidewalk. The leash slipped out of her hand. Hot Neighbor Guy stood, shock written across his face as he stepped closer, his arms extending toward her.
She did not want to end up like Marvin. Her arms flailed as she tripped backward. Why weren’t her feet moving? Strong arms slid around her waist, pulling her upright and straight into a warm, firm, rather sticky wall of muscle.
Heat climbed up her neck, and her ears burned as she gripped his paint-stained shirt. At least now she could confirm it wasn’t blood.
Hot Neighbor Guy pulled her closer. Her breath slowed, and one hand held her pressed against him. He smelled like a Snickers bar—and those were her kryptonite when it came to candy, and apparently men.
A shiver ran down her spine as his hand moved. She closed her eyes to take this moment in. Yep. This was the way she wanted to go.
Something soft and furry pressed against her, pushing her further into his embrace, their lips a breath apart.
Sydney pulled away, looking down sheepishly. She didn’t even know his name, and she’d been ready to kiss him. Who kisses a potential killer?
“Are you okay?” His quiet voice pulled her gaze from the ground.
“Of course. I’m fine. So long as I don’t end up like Marvin—”
“Marvin, my skeleton?”
“Skeleton?”
“I didn’t want to leave him in the classroom tonight. There’d been some rumors that the seniors were going to prank him.” Hot Neighbor Guy dropped his arms and stepped back.
Oh. Oh. “You’re a science teacher?”
“Mr. Peterson to my students, but you can call me Mitch.” He held out his hand.
“Sydney.” Her skin warmed as she slid her hand into his grip.
“Well, Sydney, perhaps you’d like to come in for dinner? I promise not to let you end up like Marvin.”
Sydney glanced back over her shoulder. The blinds in her front window had a small opening where she knew her sister watched. She offered a small wave. All’s good.
Dinner with a science teacher she would enjoy—even if Marvin made an appearance.
She is the author of You’ll Be Mine: A Hearts Bend Novel with Rachel Hauck and Here with Me (Home to Heritage Book 2) with Susan May Warren and Tari Faris, both released by Sunrise Publishing. Connect with her on Facebook, Twitter (X), Instagram, Goodreads, BookBub, or her website.
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