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there’s anything I’ve learned about Rue since I moved here, it’s that her threats are never empty.
    I can fuck with the HOA all I want, but going near her great niece probably wouldn’t be in my best interest.
    Then again, when have I ever met a rule that couldn’t be bent in my favor . . . just a little?

Chapter 3
    D elilah

    “ W hat time is Taylor coming again?” I ask Aunt Rue Friday morning. The woman’s on her fourth cup of coffee already, dusting off china in the cabinet with a roll of paper towels and a bottle of Windex tucked beneath her left arm. “I did the windows yesterday, remember?”
    “Oh, sugar, the Windex is for the mirrored backing behind the china.” Her lips are slicked in ruby red, and she scratches her forehead just beneath the white golf visor that rarely leaves her head. It’s almost a part of her now.
    “I don’t think she’s going to inspect every square inch of your house, Aunt Rue. It’s not like dusty shelves are going to knock a couple grand off your asking price. We have plenty of time for deep cleaning. I’ll dedicate my entire weekend to it.”
    “ He .”
    “Pardon?”
    “Taylor’s a he .”
    “Oh. Okay. Anyway, he’s not going to inspect your china cabinet. Trust me. What time will he be here?”
    She pulls back the sleeve of her pastel peach tracksuit and glances at her watch. “Any damn minute, that’s when.”
    Slipping my arm around her bony shoulders, I rest my palms on her hands to keep her still for a moment. She’s lived in this house in Laguna Palms for over twenty years. This house is her life. But it’s too much for her these days, and she’s opting to downsize to a modest-sized, ground-level luxury condo as to not risk breaking a hip on one of her slick wooden staircases. I shudder at the thought of having to forcibly relocate Rue to an assisted-living facility.
    “Everything’s going to work out,” I say. “And you’re going to love that condo in Palm Springs. This house has served you well, but now it’s time to move on.”
    “You’ll still visit me every summer, right?”
    “Always.”
    I pull away just in time to hear the doorbell ring.
    “I’ll get it,” I call out, running my palms along my sides and brushing my hair from my shoulders. Yanking on the front door, I step back, preparing to usher in Aunt Rue’s real estate agent.
    But instead, I’m looking at a vision of tawny, taut muscles, dark tattoos, and a deliciously wicked half-smirk that could only belong to Zane de la Cruz.
    Quickly stepping outside, I pull the door closed behind me and whisper, “What are you doing here?”
    His smirk fades as our eyes lock, and he presents a bouquet of daffodils from behind his back.
    “Flowers?” I slip a hand on my hip. “Are you crazy?”
    “Just wanted to apologize for the other day at the pool.” He extends the bouquet my way, and I take the pretties. “I think yellow means sorry or some shit like that.”
    I resist the urge to inform him that yellow roses mean I’m sorry. Daffodils symbolize new beginnings. I can thank my mother, Bliss, for that knowledge. That woman knows the proper flower for any occasion.
    “Thank you.” I glance over his shoulder, watching the driveway for the Realtor.
    “Anyway, I know we got off on the wrong foot.” His hand hooks the back of his neck as our eyes meet, and his mouth widens in a way that makes my heart skip a beat without permission. “I’m not always an ass. Only when I want to be.”
    “Delilah?” Aunt Rue’s muffled voice filters through the front door. “Who’s out there?”
    “You have to go,” I say before turning back to the door to answer her. “Just a minute, Rue.”
    Aunt Rue has made it perfectly clear on numerous occasions that she does not care for the “ filthy football player next door ,” claiming he has a filthy mind and a filthy mouth.
    Only as much as she talks about him, I’m beginning to have my doubts. I’d almost say she’s borderline obsessed