I glance at the window and see the curtain shift back into place as whoever’s been spying on me with Felicity hides again.

It’s not exactly easy seeing the quirky Felicity Michaels living in our old house.

I haven’t been back in over six months. Six months at sea, with nothing to do but think about the choices I made and what I’d do differently.

If she’s wrecked the plaster work inside the house, I’ll be adding Felicity Michaels to that list.

Levi hands me a beer and slumps on the leather sofa he’s sweating all over. “Did you interview her or did Garrett?” I ask him.

He cocks his head. “You did. You were fresh off the plane from Kabul. She looked a bit different though. Think she had brown hair, and she was skinnier.”

At least that explains why I don’t remember her. Everything was a blur after I came home and had two funerals and a disciplinary hearing to attend.

“She’s not a natural blonde?” I ask.

He opens his hands in an ‘I dunno’ gesture. “I thought you knew she was a looker? I thought that was why you were suddenly so keen to come ashore and get a security system for her,” he says.

I wasn’t keen. Not really. I’d have kept living on dad’s boat, The Salty Dog, for as long as I wasn’t needed.

I kick his feet off the coffee table and take a seat beside him. “What she looks like is irrelevant. I’m installing alarms because someone is targeting houses in the area.”

He eyeballs me and uses air quotes because he knows I hate it. “So, you thought you’d move in so you can monitor the ‘situation’ next door?”

I grunt a response. My youngest brother is a juvenile prankster, but he can be helpful when it suits him. “Won’t hurt to keep an eye on things.”

He laughs. “Especially if those things are as sweet as Felicity.”

I land a punch to his upper shoulder and jump up before he can slug me back. “I meant to do it before I left. Just never got around to it.”

He shrugs. “You didn’t do it for Mrs. Davis when she lived here. And she used to change your diapers.”

I wander over to the window so I can scan the street. The last of the daylight is fading, and if we want to get the rest of the furniture in, we’ll have to move fast.

“That’s because Mrs. Davis had a shotgun and a medic alert bracelet,” I say.

Levi joins me at the window, guzzling his beer as he follows my gaze. “You tell Felicity we’re going to be selling this place?”

I pull a face at him. “Why would I tell her that?”

He grins at me. “In case she wants to come over and help us clear up.”

I shake my head. “You mean come over so you can hit on her.”

He dodges out of my way before I can smack him again. “Can’t blame me for trying. And if you aren’t interested, no reason why I shouldn’t be.”

I bark a laugh. “There are plenty of reasons. That you can’t see them is why you weren’t allowed to vet the tenant applications.”

He looks bemused when he looks around the living room we’ve been dumping stuff in.

Structurally, the house is still sound. But there are thick layers of tar on the walls and the windows are so dirty
I can barely see out of them.

Viola Davis’ addiction to nicotine combined with her failing eyesight meant she quit seeing the dirt in this place around the time Levi graduated high school.

Her granddaughter, Nicki should have been helping out more. But she was always more interested in gossip than in hard work.

“You can’t blame me for wanting to talk to her. The girls I get involved with are never sweet. They’ve been crazy. Who was that one who slashed your tires because she thought it was my truck?”

“Lucy,” I grumble.

He laughs and heads back to the kitchen, probably looking for snacks to go with his warm beer.

“Before Lucy there was Julia, and she was certifiable. Sex was worth it though,” he calls from the kitchen.

He’s not wrong. Dating a woman with a smoking hot body, and a wild side is as fun as playing with fireworks.

And it’s just as dangerous. Sooner or later someone gets hurt.

Lord knows I’ve made a lot of the same mistakes as Levi has. Fallen for a pretty face, a great body or a sob story and wound up in shit creek in a barbed wire canoe.

Just another reason to keep my distance from the cute blonde next door.