Covet Thy Neighbor

Neighborgeddon, and was lost in inking a flowery design across a whimpering blonde girl’s foot.
    “Breathe, hon. The worst is almost over, I promise.” I pressed the needle as carefully as I could over the bony spot I was working on. “It’s always worst right on the bone.”
    “Oh, God . . .” She groaned.
    I lifted the needle off her skin. “You all right?”
    She nodded. “Just didn’t think it would hurt this much.”
    Behind me, the front door opened, and I caught the last part of my landlord’s sentence: “. . . can meet Seth. He lives in the apartment across the hall from the one you’re interested in, and he owns this shop.”
    Over my shoulder, I said, “Be right with you, Al.”
    “Take your time, son.”
    I took my foot off the pedal and, as the needle’s buzzing subsided, looked at the mirror above my workstation. This gave me a discreet vantage point from which to catch a glimpse of my potential new neigh—
    Oh, fuck.
    I’d joked with my buddy Michael for the last couple of weeks about all the different kinds of nightmarish neighbors who might take Robyn’s place. Drunks who’d come home from benders and puke on the shared stairs. Horndogs who didn’t realize how thin the walls were. Moochers. Serial killers. Drummers with insomnia.
    But what had I not considered? The worst possible kind of neighbor.
    Smoking hot eye candy.
    With a goddamned boyfriend.
    I didn’t know which one was the neighbor, which one was the boyfriend, or if they were both moving in. Didn’t matter, because they were both fucking hot .
    Especially the slightly shorter one. They were both ridiculously fuckable. Like, “Don’t even bother buying me a drink, I don’t care what your name is, just drop trou and let’s go” fuckable. But that second one, the one who was currently craning his neck to check out some of the art along the top of the wall, needed to spend some serious time bent over my bed. Even from here, his smile alone was enough that all that breathing and blood-flow bullshit was suddenly not happening the way it was supposed to. Intense, dark eyes. A short, perfectly trimmed beard framing his lips. Sharp cheekbones and jaw. If he had half a brain and a sense of humor, I was a dead man.
    A cute twink with a devilish grin could turn me into putty, but this kind of guy? The fit, laid-back type who was effortlessly sexy even in a parka and with wind-messed, rain-dampened hair? Kryptonite-tipped arrow in my goddamned Achilles heel. Fuck .
    I turned to my client. “Would you excuse me for just a second?”
    She exhaled. “I could use a break for a few minutes anyway.”
    I smiled. “It won’t take long, I promise.”
    While she rested her head against the chair and took some slow, deep breaths, I set the gun aside and peeled off my gloves. Then I headed toward the front of my shop to say hello to my landlord and the hotness that I hoped was moving in next door. Maybe I couldn’t touch, but I could sure as hell take in the eye candy.
    “Ah, here he is,” Al said.
    As the three men faced me, I extended my hand and even managed to choke out my name. “Seth Wheeler.”
    The shorter one looked me right in the goddamned eye as he shook my hand. “Darren Romero.” Then he let me go and added, “This is my brother, Chris.”
    Brother? Well . That changed everything, didn’t it?
    As I shook hands with Chris, Darren gestured around the shop. “So you’re an artist.”
    Chris didn’t make a sound, but as he let go of my hand, a flicker of distaste crossed his expression. A slight curl to his lips, one eyebrow lifting in the slightest, briefest arch. Oh well. Fuck him.
    I shrugged. “Artist. Skin defiler.” I glanced at the girl who was still breathing deeply at my workstation. “College student mutilator. Really depends on who you ask.”
    Darren laughed when Chris rolled his eyes. “Oh, relax.”
    Chris glared at him. “You really think living in this part of town, on top of a tattoo shop, is such a good idea?”
    The humor instantly vacated Darren’s expression, and he said through his teeth, “We’ll discuss this later.”
    The whole shop was suddenly tense. Even the girls who’d started chatting while Lane worked on one of their tattoos fell quiet.
    “Anyway.” Darren turned to me again and smiled, and the tension broke.
    The girls resumed chattering. The tattoo needle buzzed back to life. Chris scowled and found something other than me or his brother to focus on.
    I muffled a