Nightmare Neighbor

CHAPTER 4 - Maddie

It was just before ten when I entered the coffee shop. The morning rush was over, but two customers stood by the counter. I joined the line, drooling over the displayed goods while awaiting my turn. It took a great deal of self-denial, but I ignored the chocolate cake as a responsible adult and ordered a ham sandwich along with another sinfully sweet drink.

With coffee in one hand and a boring sandwich in the other, I sat at the same table as yesterday, for once eating breakfast without my eyes glued to the computer screen. I caught maybe five hours of sleep last night before being startled awake by a loud slam of the front door. It was ungodly early, but sleep refused to come back, so I used the extra time to unpack the bags in the middle of the living room. It took me about forty minutes to put my belongings in their new rightful place.

I returned to the sofa and dug a notepad from my handbag, writing a list of things I needed to buy. I'd have to make a trip to Target later today to get the essentials, but most items could wait. Libby promised to stop by after her morning class on Friday to help me settle down, and she would happily drive me, her only sister, to the mall to pick up the rest of the stuff.

Satisfied with my plan, I showered, put on clean clothes that didn't make me look like a tired college kid who lost all will to live, and headed to the coffee shop. I needed at least one cup of coffee to kick-start my day, and I didn't have any at home.

Once I finished my breakfast, I took out my laptop, determined to complete the first scene of the next chapter before going home. Darryn was about to get into a fight, and I dreaded writing those since I knew nothing about fistfights, let alone sword fights. I was much more comfortable with banter and romance, but fantasy books needed some action now and then, as Meredith kept reminding me. It was the main reason I contemplated writing romance increasingly more often. The pressure to have a great word-building and adventurous story would disappear, allowing me to focus on the characters and their relationships, which was the best part, anyway. But my fans knew me as a fantasy writer, and the possibility of disappointing them and having my book flop scared me too much to take a chance with a different genre.

I got writing and was done with the opening soon, stopping right before Darryn threw the first punch. I sipped the coffee, watching my surroundings over the edge of the mug as I considered how to continue.

A dark-haired man by the counter distracted me from my thoughts. I didn't see his face, but he was at least six feet tall, wearing a well-tailored gunmetal grey suit that hugged his muscular body in the most flattering way. He handed the young barista a bill, stepping aside to wait for his order. A petite blond in a bright pink tracksuit in line in front of him must have found his face quite appealing since she was eating him up with her eyes. He didn't pay her any attention and pulled out his phone.

His head snapped up, and his gaze flicked over the room. His face was perfectly symmetrical, with an angular jawline, a long nose, and thick eyebrows arched over light-colored eyes. The blondie was right to ogle him.

He looked straight at me, and a dazzling smile touched his lips. All the blood from my body rushed to my cheeks. Busted.

I lowered my head, putting down the coffee. My fingers swiftly moved across the keyboard as I imagined Darryn wearing that very smile right before he attacked. I reached for my cup, bringing it to my lips again, only to discover it was empty. Damn it. A constant sugar intake during a writing spree helped to keep me going.

I sprinted toward the counter and ordered another coffee. The chocolate cake on display called my name, but it wasn't even noon yet; I couldn't order a cake. My mother would have a heart attack if she knew I even considered it.

Too bad I was done trying to be the perfect daughter. "I'll take a piece of that cake as well, thank you."

I watched the barista as she prepared my drink, keen to get back to work. A small paper cup stood on the counter, presumably belonging to the guy in the suit since he was the last customer in line. Maybe he went to the bathroom? I tilted my head to the side, trying to decipher the name on the cup—God knew why I cared. The handwriting was illegible. The first letter could be an A. Or an O?