Welcome, sweetheart!

Zara’s POV

I stood to the side like the rusted third wheel of a lovely couple. The so-called Chance was busy flirting with Kaden, who hadn’t stopped blushing like a schoolgirl. I scoffed internally, the sound echoing in the hollow space of my chest.

“You know I can’t only eat your food,” Chance said playfully. He caught Kaden’s hand, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. She beamed, practically radiating a glow that made my eyes ache.

“I know, my love… and I have your food ready. All you have to do is sit and wait for me,” Kaden giggled. I wanted to reach out, grab her arm, and drag her away from this man. He felt like a predator wrapped in expensive cologne and practiced charm.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. Slowly, he turned his head toward me. I averted my eyes immediately, but I could feel the weight of his gaze…it was heavy, like a physical pressure against my skin.

“Won’t you introduce me to your… new friend?” Kaden grabbed my hand and yanked me forward. My eyes met his, and for a second, the world narrowed. He had intense, rare grey-blue eyes that looked as if they could peel back layers of skin to see through your soul.

“Well, this is Zara. She just moved here…actually, you guys are neighbors!” Kaden said with enough excitement for the three of us.

“She’s staying at the Whitmores'.” Chance’s eyes lit up with a predatory spark. A smirk danced at the corners of his lips.

“Oh, right. Miss Zara. What a nice name. Nice to meet you.” The way he said it…husky, deep, and far too intimate…made my skin crawl. He extended a hand. I stared at it. I had seen what that hand was doing through the window last night, and I wasn't about to touch it. Kaden nudged me sharply in the ribs. Swallowing my pride, I reached out and took his hand. His skin was warm, his grip firm.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, my voice like ice. I tried to pull away, but he tightened his hold for just a second too long.

“She’s the shy type,” he chuckled as I finally wrenched my hand back.

“Stop it, Chance,” Kaden laughed. “Zara is just… reserved.”

“For a beautiful woman, shyness is the last thing I expected,” he remarked. He leaned back, his expression shifting into something that reminded me of a wolf stalking a particularly stubborn prey. His presence was too commanding, his frame rugged and broad, as if he spent his life breaking things or lifting them.

“Okay, you sir, go and sit down while I get your breakfast,” Kaden said, shoving him toward the booths. He threw me one final, mocking glance before swaggering away. I didn't stop glaring until he sat down.

“Chance has that effect on women,” Kaden whispered, pulling me back to reality. I realized I’d been staring after him like a startled pup.

“What? That’s… that’s not it. I wasn't looking at him because I liked what I saw,” I snapped.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get over the shock soon. That is… if you can survive him,” Kaden added mischievously. And walked away toward the kitchen.

"I’m not one of them, Kaden. He’s a jerk, and I hate jerks.” I tried to defend myself while Kaden fixed his breakfast.

“Alright, Missy. Here. Take this to him while I open the front. Be nice! Chance is my favorite customer.” Kaden only sighed, shoving a heavy tray into my hands. Before I could protest, she was gone. I stared at the tray. Bacon, eggs, and toast. I considered for a fleeting moment dropping it on the floor, but I owed kaden a lot. I exhaled, squared my shoulders, and walked out into the dining area. He was on his phone, looking far too comfortable.

“Oh, look. Breakfast,” he said the moment I approached. I set the tray down with a heavy thud. “Service with a scowl," Chance noted, his voice a low, gravelly hum.

“I like the variety, miss Zara. Kaden is usually all sunshine.”

“Eat your food,” I snapped, sliding the plate onto the table with a bit more force than necessary. The silverware rattled.

“Ouch. Careful with the bacon, sweetheart. It didn't do anything to you.” He tucked his phone away, his focus shifting entirely to me. It was suffocating. Up close, his eyes weren't just grey-blue; they were the color of a storm over the Atlantic….unpredictable and dangerous. An awkward silence stretched between us. I stood there, refusing to leave until I was sure he didn't need anything else…only because Kaden would kill me if I was rude.

“Well… so… ummm,” Chance started, locking his fingers together on the table. “About last night. The window and…”

“Mr. Chance, or whatever your name is,” I cut him off, my voice trembling with suppressed rage.

“It’s best if you don’t say another word.” “That’s why I need to explain,” he said, his tone turning surprisingly earnest. “It wasn't what…”

“Explain what? That you’re an indecent man who doesn't care about who sees his… 'activities'?” I glared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“You’re loud, you’re arrogant, and you’re a pig.”

“Indecent? A pig? Lady, I was in my house….” He looked genuinely shocked, his mouth hanging open slightly.

“Don’t waste your breath. Some of us have actual morals.” My blood turned to ice, then boiled. “If you’re looking for an apology for what I saw, you’ll be waiting until the sun burns out.”

“An apology? No. I was going to offer an explanation. Neighbors should start on the right foot, don't you think?” Chance let out a dry, short laugh, leaning forward until he was well within my personal space.

“I don't care about your right foot or any other part of you,” I hissed, leaning down to meet his gaze so he knew I wasn't intimidated by his rugged frame. “I saw exactly what kind of man you are. You’re the type who treats intimacy like a spectator sport and women like disposable napkins. It’s pathetic.”

“Pathetic? That’s a strong word for someone who was peeking through the curtains.” The smirk didn't falter, but his eyes hardened.

“I was closing them to shut out the garbage!”

“And yet, you stayed long enough to form a very detailed opinion,” he countered, his voice dropping seductively, becoming dangerously smooth. “Maybe you weren't disgusted, Zara. Perhaps you were just… surprised by what a real man looks like when he isn't trying to be polite.” I felt the slap before I even processed the thought of it…not a physical one, but the sting of his arrogance. I gripped the edge of his table, my knuckles white.

“A 'real man' has a shred of modesty and respect for his community,” I said, my voice trembling with pure, genuine loathing. “You? You’re just a loud, shiny toy with a god complex. You think because you have a chiseled jaw and a few tattoos, the world is your bedroom. Well, newsflash: I’m not the audience, and I’m definitely not a fan.” Chance stared at me, his fork halfway to his mouth. For the first time, the playful glint in his eyes flickered out, replaced by a cold, sharp curiosity. He stood up slowly, towering over me, forcing me to look up. The air between us felt heavy, charged with a friction that felt like static electricity.

“You've got a lot of fire for a shy lady,” he murmured, stepping around the booth until he was inches away. I refused to back down. “But don't mistake your judgment for morality. You don't know me.”

“I know enough,” I spat, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I know I’m going to hate every second of living next to you.”

“Good,” he whispered, a dark, mocking grin cutting across his face. “Hate is much more interesting than 'nice to meet you….See you at home, neighbor.” He sat back down. I didn't wait for another word. I turned on my heel and marched back toward the kitchen furiously.

____

Chance sat in total silence. No…he sat in shock. He watched the sway of Zara’s hips as she retreated, not with admiration this time, but with utter bewilderment.

“What the fuck did I do?” he muttered to the empty booth. He had spent his entire life being chased, adored, or, at the very least, respected. He had never been called indecent. He had been trying to apologize for the lack of curtains, to explain that he hadn't realized the Whitmore place was occupied yet.

“Indecent?” Chance repeated the word under his breath, picking up a fork and stabbing a piece of bacon with unnecessary force. He chewed aggressively, his grey-blue eyes fixed on the kitchen door. No woman had ever looked at him with such pure, unadulterated loathing. It was irritating. It was insulting. And, though he hated to admit it as he swallowed his breakfast, it was the most interesting thing that had happened to him in years.