MisTaken (Miss Match #1.5) (4 page)

The first mile was always toughest. The worst part about habitually sleeping in was that he always seemed to be running under a blazing sun. On the bright side, he always had a tan despite being the biggest homebody he knew.

As the first few blocks fell away beneath his pounding feet, Noah considered.

Jaylene Kim was his neighbor. As such, he was bound to be seeing plenty of her. Or maybe not—they did seem to be operating on opposite schedules. But even the best- or worst-case scenario meant passing occasionally on the street, both in the freezer aisle of the corner store, seeing each other across the pumps at the gas station. Probably a couple of times a month.

The one thing, the one thing Noah could say for absolute certain was that there was no room for a woman in his life. His work didn’t allow for it, hell, his personality didn’t allow for it. He liked to be alone. He didn’t want to check in if his run took him across town and he decided to join a pickup soccer game. He didn’t want to go to bed early because someone else was. And he sure as shit didn’t want to be spending his run justifying this to himself.

So he gave in again, and let his mind wander. It wandered up over the curves of her dress, and around her movie-star red lips. It followed the path of that caramel along her soft pink tongue. It meandered along the words that tongue had spoken, the banter he knew they’d have if he let himself go.

He let his thoughts spin over and around her like a cotton candy cloud until he felt sugar-sick all over again and then he let it go. Enough of the beautiful intelligent neighbor. He would be inspired by her from a distance, from now on. He had his job to do, and didn’t need any distractions.

It was just not going to be allowable to become so taken with the girl next door.

So why on earth did he find himself outside her window that night, throwing pebbles?

CHAPTER 3

Jaylene was feasting. It was Friday night, she had the weekend stretching out before her, all her papers had been graded, and it was time to party. She was refusing to admit how preposterous it was that she now considered it a party to let Pookie drink milk at the table while she smeared stolen caramel on stolen crackers and washed it down with stolen wine.

So what if this was the fanciest Friday night she’d had in months? She’d rather be doing this than go out on the town with Blake Donovan. She almost spit her wine out at the very thought.

That stuffy old turd, in his expensive suit, getting beer spilled on his expensive shoes at the new raw bar that was in the sketchiest up-and-coming artsy neighborhood.

Oh, God. Now she
was
depressed. All the stolen goodies in the world couldn’t make it less sad that she was home alone on a Friday, dreaming up ways for a bad date to be humiliated. Maybe it was time to sign up for one of those online matching sites. After all, she sure as hell wasn’t hiring Andy Dawson as matchmaker.

There were shoes in her closet she’d rather eat.

Clunk.
What the hell? The fucking squirrels around here were out of control lately. The other day, she’d seen one chubby and possibly drunk fall—actually
fall
—from a telephone wire. It looked almost embarrassed when it hit the ground, miraculously alive.

Clunk.
Throwing shit at her window was too much, though. She might be a feminist, but she wasn’t an animal activist. Those little shits would see what it felt like to get an acorn or two to the face.

Clunk.
That actually sounded like her bedroom. Oh, hell no. It wasn’t enough she slept poorly already? It wasn’t enough that the sun streaming in that damn window woke her not just on workdays, but ensured she hadn’t had a lazy Saturday since she moved in? It wasn’t enough that those little rodents owned the neighborhood trees, causing her poor elderly cat to have a conniption every time she napped in a window?

Clunk.
They now wanted her. Well, Jaylene Kim would show them
exactly
what they were up against. In her bedroom, she selected her least-favorite pair of stilettos. Hefting them, she smiled to herself. The many evenings of halfhearted dart playing in bars, waiting for the band to go on, had honed her aim. In the battle of Jay versus squirrel, PETA would not be pleased.

Shoe in each hand,
clunk,
she slid the window open and leaned out. One long arm, complete with heel, snaked out as well. Her eyes darted around the oak in front of her brownstone, seeking out the culprit.

Bonk.
The next missile hit her between the eyes. Blindly, she reacted and heaved the shoe as hard as possible.

“
Fuck!
” Well, that squirrel sure had a mouth on it, she thought as she rubbed her forehead.

Wait—how many squirrels actually dropped F-bombs? She cracked one eye, then the other. Shit. The squirrel she had nailed was none other than the hot neighbor. Shit, shit, shit. This was why she never dated, she couldn’t even tell a squirrel from a hot guy. Shit!

“Noah?” she ventured.

“Jesus!” came the response.

“Well … not quite?” How exactly did one respond in a situation like that?

“Jay?”

That she could answer. “Yeah! Um, sorry about the shoe. I thought you were a squirrel.” Now that her eyes were aimed at street level, it was quite obvious there was a cute guy throwing pebbles at her window. How she thought she was being attacked by wild animals was going to be unexplainable. His gorgeous, scruffy, now-bruised face grinned up at her.

“People have made a lot of assumptions about me over the years, but this is definitely a first. Wanna come down?” She yanked her head back in the window so fast she nearly decapitated herself. Did she want to come down and spend time with a beautiful and well-read man? Obviously. But he’d been so hard to read himself the other night. Did she want to spend the next hour second-guessing everything coming out of his mouth?

Hell yes, she did.

“Give me five minutes!” Pants. She needed pants. How was her face? Was any makeup still lingering from this morning’s application? Did it matter?

She yanked on a pair of black skinny jeans over her lace boy shorts. The Indigo Girls tank she had been lounging in would have to suffice. As for makeup, she gave herself a stern talking to. There was zero need to “fix herself up” for a man. If he liked her, it would be about her sparkling wit and clever repartee, not her winged eyeliner. Although—red lipstick was her signature, so no problem re-upping that. How was a woman supposed to be heard in this world without bright lipstick? She again stifled the inner feminazi as she dabbed on a touch of her favorite perfume oil. Smelling good made
her
feel good, so that was all right to do.

Despite her hard words to herself, Jay paused before opening her front door and took a deep breath.
Don’t think too much. Don’t preach too much. Don’t ruin your first Friday with a man in ages.
Blowing air and mantras through her freshly coated lips, she stepped onto the stoop, only to have all the wind knocked out of her by the man standing before her.

“Why didn’t you just ring the buzzer?” she asked. After all, it wasn’t like she wanted
him
to know how weak her knees had suddenly gotten. Now it was his turn to look like he’d been punched.

“I … I don’t know. I was trying to be cute, I guess.”

Damn it. It
was
cute. And romantic. Or it had been until she’d gone and threatened the man with a spiked heel to the eye. “It
was
cute. I’m sorry. No one’s been cute to me in a while. And it was surprising, is all.”

He smiled, and she smiled back. Oh, God, were they going to stand here staring goofily at each other all night? Jay knew she wasn’t great with awkward silences. She was likely to bring up topics guaranteed to get people talking, which usually meant things that got them arguing, and before long they were back to silence again, only of a less-friendly variety.

Luckily, it was Noah who broke it, though he was staring at his feet.

“It was really nice talking to you last night. I thought, maybe since you don’t work tomorrow, we could take a walk and talk some more?” He glanced up hopefully, which was adorable since
she
was the one hoping he wanted to spend time with her, and not just demand recompense for stolen caramels.

Instead of answering, she fell into step beside him.

“Indigo Girls, huh? I haven’t listened to them much, but I dig their lyrics. What’s that song, ‘Closer to Fine?’”

Jay nodded at him. She loved that song.

“I have that on a playlist of mine for work.”

“What is it that you do, again?” She still thought it was a little weird he hadn’t answered that one the other night.

“Nothing exciting. Hey, I should let you know that I have no idea where we’re going. I got completely lost running today and had to take the Charlie home.”

“Wait—you run? I run! How did we not talk about this before?” She stopped dead for a second and assessed him again. So that lean body was due to running. Man, he could literally not be any more perfect. She was becoming quite taken with her new neighbor.

They resumed their leisurely pace, not heading anywhere in particular. His hand found hers and clasped it. Her heart started pounding furiously. He was warm, and his grip belied his strength. She hoped desperately she would not grow clammy and gross him out. In the Boston humidity, though, it seemed likely.

“I started running a few years ago. It got addictive pretty fast. How about you?” He resumed their conversation as if the entire world hadn’t just shifted on its axis at their touch.

Well, she wasn’t going to be weird if he wasn’t.

“I ran track in high school and college and just never got out of the habit, I guess. I don’t even know what I’d do without running anymore. It’s more like meditation than exercise at this point.”

“I know the feeling. Were you at—were you at the marathon?” He looked distant for a moment, and she wondered where his mind had taken him.

“I was home grading papers, which I can never be more grateful for. At the time, I was horridly upset about missing out. Were you there?”

“I finished twenty minutes before. I was home again. I don’t really want to talk about it, though.” No Bostonian really did, so she let that one go.

“Also, it keeps me on a decent schedule. I can’t stay up to watch one more episode or read one more chapter if I’m going to get six miles in before work.” He may have been upset about the race, as they all were deep down, but he also had impeccable manners on top of it. That was awesome. Except he didn’t like mornings—they were her favorite.

“Now that feeling I don’t know. I am not a morning person.”
No.
She knew something was wrong.

What the hell kind of job did he have? Who got to just
not
be a morning person if they didn’t want to?

She thought about pursuing the occupation mystery again, but their conversation was going so nicely, she decided to stay on course. “I’m more of a night owl on summer break. But there’s just something special about getting up before the sun and seeing it join you slowly during your run. There’s hardly anybody out, and the city has a whole different feel to it.”

“Hardly anybody out? Now you’re talking.” He grinned at her and squeezed her hand a little. Her heart squeezed a little in response. “Maybe I need to run before bed instead of after I wake up.”

“Not much of a people person, huh?” They took a left turn down Massachusetts Avenue.

“Nah,” he replied, but didn’t elaborate. It was funny, almost, how comfortable it was to talk to someone who really didn’t say all that much.

“So what kind of music do you listen to while you’re running?” She knew it. She was getting clammy. Shit! If she didn’t wipe her palms on her jeans soon, he’d notice. But if she pulled her hand out of his, he would think she didn’t want to hold hands and she
really
wanted to hold hands.

Oh, thank God. They were walking past a ramen house. She yanked her hand away and opened the door. He looked surprised, but followed her in.

“I’m starving, do you mind?” She really was. The caramel crackers hadn’t been much of a dinner. They slid into a booth and checked out the laminated menus.

“When I run, I listen to hip-hop, to answer your question. What’s tonkatsu broth?” Was that his foot touching hers beneath the table? Or was it the table? Should she kick it to find out?

“Pork bones. It’s my favorite. I listen to punk when I run, but I’ve been doing audiobooks lately for just bumming around the house.” She kicked it. It reacted. Not the table, then.

“Ow!” Noah yelped. She smiled apologetically. She really was sorry. Sometimes she couldn’t control her impulses. But she did want to play footsie. Damn. This was why she had so few second dates, wasn’t it? Self-sabotage.

“Audiobooks. I haven’t really gotten into those. I’m old-fashioned about paper, I guess.”

She slunk her foot back over to his beneath the table. He didn’t recoil. Maybe she could salvage this after all. The charge she felt every time they touched said she sure had to try.

“It isn’t about paper or no. It’s about maximizing my lit time. I could happily read all day, but then I couldn’t walk down to grab groceries, or clean the bathroom, or grade tests. So I do audiobooks then.”

His foot slid up to her calf, and then back down. Jay tried to suppress her shiver.

Suddenly, he kicked her back. “We’re even now. That makes sense about the audiobooks. I’ll think on that. But I really enjoy music, so I probably won’t change.”

She was still blinking from the surprise. It took her a second to recover her wits, but luckily the server was there to take their orders.

“So what are you reading right now?” She mentally patted herself on the back. That was good. They’d bonded over books the first time they hung out.

“Just something for work. What are
you
reading?”

She grinned as his foot resumed twining around hers. The sensation of elation at this cute scruffy guy staring at her as if he couldn’t wait to hear her answer made her drop the impulse to press him on the work thing. What if he was unemployed? It would be embarrassing for both of them. And embarrassment was a real mood killer.