Read Dirty Neighbor (The Dirty Suburbs) for Free Online Page B

crowd.
     
    Before long, she’s back at our table, Daniel and Keeland on her heels.
     
    “Hey Sam,” my brother calls out to me and I already don’t like where this is going. Just the tone of his voice is enough to put me on edge.
     
    “Yes?”
     
    “We’ve got an emergency with the sitter and we have to leave immediately. You’re gonna have to give Keeland a ride home.”
     
    I scowl and Keeland gives me an impish smile. “I came with Daniel. My bike is at the mechanic’s, remember?”
     
    I think back to this morning when his motorcycle had ripped me out of my meditation as it howled on the driveway like a wild animal fighting for its last breath.
     
    Before I can object, a nervous-looking Gracie pulls on my brother’s sleeve, nodding in the direction of the door. “C’mon, Daniel. We’ve gotta go.”
     
    He gives her an impatient nod before turning back to Keeland. “Later, man.” I watch as Daniel and Keeland’s hands collide, clasping together in an obnoxious parting gesture.
     
    I can’t believe they haven’t outgrown that shit.
     
    Daniel lifts his hand, quickly waving goodbye to our table before Gracie drags him towards the exit.
     
    So, now I’m left with a meek-looking Keeland standing in front of me. Faith and Isla are at my side, communicating with their eyes, telepathically goading me to have mercy on him.
     
    I feel cornered. There’s no way to ditch him without looking like an absolute bitch. And for some inexplicable reason, I don’t want him to think that I’m a bitch.
     
    Why the hell does this asshole have me feeling all discombobulated?
     
    I’m not wasted. I’m not even a little tipsy. But I suddenly feel bold enough to let myself scrutinize him, eye him shamelessly trying to figure out what his appeal is.
     
    Broad shoulders. Scruffy chin. Tattoos covering the flesh exposed by the short sleeves of his fitted, black t-shirt. Round ass under the dark denim of his jeans.
     
    Okay, I’ve got to admit that, physically, there’s a lot to like.
     
    But he’s still a bastard. And I have no intention of being nice to him.
     
    Keeland throws both hands up defensively. “I can have one of the guys drop me off if it’s inconvenient for you,” he says diplomatically.
     
    Now, I feel like the asshole. I grunt. “You can ride with me,” I say begrudgingly. “But Isla’s riding shot-gun.”
     
    Minutes later, we’re loaded up into my little, blue Prius, Isla in the passenger’s seat and Faith in the back with Keeland. The girls debate back and forth about whether the next ‘Bachelorette’ should be Chelsea or Kimberley.
     
    Within 15 minutes I’ve dropped Isla off and Faith’s apartment is only a block away. In Reyfield virtually all the apartment complexes are located in the same one-mile radius.
     
    “Good night, Keeland,” Faith says shyly as she slides out of the backseat.
     
    He offers her a grin. “Good night, Faith. It was nice to meet you.”
     
    “Likewise.” Then, she turns to me. “Remember Sam, volunteering on Tuesday at 4:30. You’ll be there, right?”
     
    I give her a small nod.
     
    Keeland’s eyebrows shoot up. “Volunteering? What is this volunteering?”
     
    Before I can shut her up, Faith babbles on. “I coordinate events for the kids and seniors at the community center. Sam tutors eighth and ninth graders in math on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
     
    Keeland gives me a surprised look. “Really?”
     
    I’m starting to squirm in my seat. The less Keeland Masters knows about my life, the better. But Faith seems oblivious to my distress. She just keeps on talking.
     
    “Yup,” she chirps. “The kids love her and she’s really amazing with them, too.”
     
    “Good to know,” Keeland smiles wickedly.
     
    I have to get out of here before he starts getting any ideas. “Okay. ‘Night, Faith,” I say curtly, pulling away from the curb before she adds anything else to this conversation.
     
    Right now my mission is to get