Page 1 of The Burn List
1
Abby
Today is my thirtieth birthday. It’s seven thirty.
Guess where I am? Go ahead, guess.
I’m home. About to get out of my car, walk up my sidewalk, and into my empty, silent house.
Talk about wild. Am I right?
To make matters worse, there’s been absolutely nothing special about the day. Nothing to distinguish it from any other boring day of my life. Well, unless I count the piece of double-chocolate fudge cake I’d devoured.
Normally, I don’t let myself have dessert. But it is my birthday, after all.
I slam the door to my practical Honda Civic and start the depressing trek to my front door. What’s happened to me? Where is the exciting life I’d dreamed about? Sure, being a foreign war correspondent that travels the globe and has a man in every city might be a little unrealistic, but I haven’t done one exciting thing in my whole miserable life.
Weary, I sigh, long and deep and mournful. It’s official. I’m throwing myself a nice little pity party and, you know what, I intend to enjoy every minute of it.
“Hey, Abby.” Lukas Marlow’s head shoots up over the bushes separating our houses.
I jump, dropping my workbag on the sidewalk at my feet. I screech, “Don’t scare me like that!”
From behind the shrubs, my neighbor rises like a Greek god to his full six feet four inches.
Of course he’s shirtless. Of course he’s gorgeous. Why wouldn’t he be?
The universe is a cruel and twisted place.
All those toned muscles, honed by hours in the gym to stay in shape for his heroic rescues as a firefighter, gleam in the fading evening sun. Taunting me.
A deep dimple on his left cheek creases when he smiles. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. How’s the birthday girl?”
I’m in a foul mood, and all I want is to snarl, but it’s not his fault I had a shitty birthday. Nope, I have no one to blame for that but myself. So like a good, sane neighbor, I bite back my retort, pick up my bag and sling it over my shoulder. “No worries. I’m all good.”
Why did he have to be so freakin’ good-looking? With his stupid chiseled jaw, full mouth, thick brown hair and hypnotic matching eyes. He’s the poster child for tall, dark and dangerous.
And he had to go and live next door to me!
A constant, humiliating reminder that he has no interest in me, while I practically salivate every time I see him, like Pavlov’s dog. It had taken me six months of run-ins before I could talk to him without stammering like an idiot.
And believe me, he does not suffer the same affliction. Nope. Not even a little bit. I can’t decide if he treats me more like an elderly neighbor or a little sister. It’s a toss up. But with every respectful word he utters I want to punch him.
That dimple still on full display, he winks. “How was dinner with your parents?”
I wrinkle my nose. What was there to say about dinner? Other than singing “Happy Birthday” they’d spent the rest of the time dealing with my big sister’s latest drama.
Eden always steals the show.
And like the good, dutiful daughter I am, I sat quietly, nursing one glass of wine and thinking I’d rather be curled up on my couch watching TV. Not that I’m about to make that pathetic confession. I shrug. “No big deal.”
Those dark brown eyes sparkle with friendliness. “So, the big three-o… You stopping home before heading out on the town for a wild night?”
Ha! My wild nights consisted of watchingThe Late Show with Stephan Colbertfollowed by reading in bed before drifting off to sleep. “Nope, I have to work tomorrow.”
A grin Lukas probably reserves for returning lost kittens to their elderly owners flashes across his stupidly gorgeous face. “Saving your celebrating for the weekend, huh?”
Oh yeah. Totally wild and crazy. My current weekend plans include going to a movie with my best friend Janet.
