“Uh-huh.” He leans against the truck, right over the lock. “I heard you were back in town. Finally realized what you were missing?” He winks.

“Still as smarmy as ever, I see.” I can’t believe I wasted two years dating this jerk.

He throws his head back and laughs, but when his gaze returns to mine, it’s colder. “You were always trying to be better than you were, Darlin’, and now look where you are. Back where you said you never wanted to be. You and I both know you’ll be under me eventually, even though you pretend it’s not what you want.”

I’d say I can’t believe what I’m hearing, but this is Tucker, and it seems as though he’s gotten worse over the years, not better. “First of all, my being here has nothing to do with you at all. In fact, you’re basically the reason I don’t want to be here. Also, sexual harassment much, Tucker? Who says that kind of shit? And aren’t you with Sue?”

“It’s not harassment if it’s the truth. And Sue and I are on a break.”

“A break? Is that still your way of justifying being unfaithful? You really are a piece of work, you know that? Clearly the only thing about you that’s changed is where your hairline starts.”

He runs a self-conscious hand through his hair. It’s not as if he’s balding, but he used to be so paranoid about it back in high school. His older brother already had a receding hairline by the time he was in his sophomore year of college, so Tucker has always been sensitive about it. Especially since he has a widow’s peak. “There’s nothing wrong with my hair.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, this has been . . . disturbing. I have to get back to the office.” I glance to the left as a familiar black sports car parallel parks directly across the street from us. Awesome, as if this morning hasn’t already been an epic suckfest. The last thing I need is another run-in with my neighbor, in a public place.

It’s bad enough that I’m out here talking to Tucker where everyone can see. At least three locals have passed on the other side of the street, and there will undoubtedly be gossip. It wouldn’t be a small town if there wasn’t.

“Come on, Darlin’, don’t be like that.” He reaches out to touch an errant curl that fell from my ponytail, but I lean back to avoid contact.

The car door closes on the other side of the street. I fight not to look, but my stupid head swivels, wanting the hit of eye candy as a reward for not kicking Tucker in the junk. Van’s wearing a threadbare T-shirt with the name of a band I used to listen to in high school written across his chest in faded letters. His jeans have holes in them. Not the expensive, strategic ones, but the kind that have been worn so many times, with so much love, that they’ve started to disintegrate. He almost looks like a local.

His gaze meets mine briefly before it shifts to Tucker, who’s leaning against the side of my truck, making it impossible for me to leave.

“Who’s that guy?” Tucker asks.

“Huh?” I reluctantly drag my attention back to Tucker.

“That guy.” He tips his chin toward Van. “How do you know him?”

I’m about to tell Tucker it’s none of his business, and that I don’t actually know him at all. Although I have seen his penis, and it’s far superior to Tucker’s, at least from what I remember in high school. But my neighbor heads directly for me, a look I can’t quite decipher on his face.

“Hey, Dillion, aren’t you a ray of sunshine on this gorgeous morning. Let me give you a hand with those, beautiful.”

He swoops in and grabs one of the bags right out of my hand. I’m so stunned, and frankly confused, that I don’t even have the opportunity to fight him on it. Now I don’t have a buffer between me and Tucker. At least until Van turns to Tucker and flashes him a megawatt smile. “Hey, man, so sorry to interrupt, but do you mind opening the door for Dillion? These bags are mighty heavy.”

Tucker’s brow furrows, as if he’s trying to figure out the dynamic. I know I am as well. “Uh, yeah, sure. You shoulda said something, Darlin’.”

I still don’t know what’s going on. But I manage to unlock the door, which Van swings open. He sets one bag on the center console and takes the other from me so he can do the same. “What are you doing?” I ask through clenched teeth.

He drops his head, mouth right next to my ear. “Saving your surly ass from this douche; what does it look like?” His warm breath hits my neck and sends a shiver down my spine.

He moves back a step and winks, except it’s more playful than it is anything else. Which doesn’t make sense, considering every single one of our interactions so far have been tense and mostly unpleasant.

I guess it wouldn’t take a genius to sense the tension between Tucker and me, especially with the way I’ve been using takeout as a shield and Tucker being his skeezy self, preventing me from getting in my truck. But I can take care of myself, and I don’t need anyone, especially Van, to save me. Besides, it still doesn’t answer the question of why he’d willingly intervene.

Van wipes his hands on his jeans and grabs the edge of the door before spinning around to face a confused Tucker. “My apologies, I should introduce myself. I’m Van, Dillion’s neighbor. And you are?”

“Tucker Patrick.” He holds out his hand somewhat reluctantly. “Did you say you’re Darlin’s neighbor?”

Van gives him a wide smile. “That’s right. I live right next door to this ray of sunshine.” He winks at me again.

Tucker’s eyebrows pull together. It doesn’t take much. He almost has a unibrow to begin with. “Next door?”

“Van is Bee’s grandson. He’s staying at her place right now, which is technically now his place.”

Tucker’s eyes light up like he won the lottery. “Oh yeah? You looking to sell? I’m in real estate, and I can get you great money for that place.”

I roll my eyes. Again. I remember Tucker hated when I would do that, so I add in an extra one to make up for lost opportunities. “Could you be any less chill? He can’t sell right now. It’s not even on the right side of the lake.” My phone buzzes in my purse. I rummage around until I find the device, happy for the distraction. I have no idea what’s going on right now, and I’m super confused by Van and his behavior. I’m even happier when it’s a message from Aaron asking when lunch is arriving because Uncle John is getting hangry.

“I gotta deliver lunch.”

Van steps aside and offers me his hand. I look at it, not sure what he expects me to do. Eventually I slip my hand in his palm, assuming he means to shake it, which is weird, but then so is this entire situation.

The second his hand wraps around mine, I feel like I’ve been shot through with electricity. And he doesn’t release my hand. He just keeps holding it. I look from our clasped hands to his face. He’s smirking again, and those warm maple eyes are locked on mine. He tips his head toward the truck. “Up you go, gorgeous.”

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” I mutter.

“Absolutely.”

At this point, Tucker looks annoyed more than anything else. And I’m completely discombobulated. I climb into the truck, to end this weirdness and get the heck away from these two.