*

The sexy single dad next door is also my best friend’s brother.

And now I’m playing nanny for his son over the summer.

It’s a good thing I’ve never been into grumpy men, because Simon Stone holds the record.

If I were smart, I’d have never taken the job for Simon. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and well, I’d have taken any job that distracted me from my personal life. Plus, it meant not going home to an empty house, and that was really all I ever wanted.

What I didn’t plan for, however, was for Simon’s son to tell his football team that his father and I were dating or for Simon to need me to go with it once his own mother found out. Let’s not forget the time Simon kissed me one night in a dark bedroom, or when he watched me through my bedroom window as I… well, I didn’t plan for a lot of things. Falling for a man who swears he’ll never love again is at the top of the list.

Most of all, I didn’t plan for how life would be at the end of the summer when I went back to my empty house and my lonely life. All it took was one summer for me to fall for Simon Stone, but as it seems, if I’m not careful, that might be all I ever get.

Tropes for More Than Write include single dad, grumpy sunshine, nanny, best friends brother, neighbors, small town, and spice.

*

Chapter One

Greer

My ass hurts.

I pick up the fifty-pound kettlebell and proceed to squat for what feels like the hundredth time.

You like working out.

You’re improving your mood.

You love food.

You have a pint of Cherry Garcia ice cream in the freezer.

Moving your body is good for you.

I repeat my mantra at least three more times as I finish my set. My current client is already lying on the floor, groaning.

“Hell, Greer,” he says. “Day after day, you kill me while I’m here, and for some reason, I just keep coming back.”

“Well, David, that’s my job.”

David owns the building where I work. It started as a health and nutrition studio that my best friend Willa opened, but as the spaces on either side of her studio slowly opened, she added them to her lease. When I told her I wanted to branch into personal training in addition to nutrition, she signed me on as partner, and after many trainings and certifications, here I am.

“Of all the people you could have chosen to work out with today, I can’t believe you picked me,” He laughs and rolls up to sit.

I take the spot next to him, sticking my legs out straight and reach for my toes.

I take part in at least one client’s workout a day. I switch it up from time to time, since no two clients have the same workout.

“I needed a challenge today.”

Did I really?

Yes and no.

I needed something to push me. To trick my brain into thinking of anything other than my personal life.

That’s why I love what I do so much. I control the outcome when it comes to what goes in my mouth and my body movements. If I stick to the plan, it will work. The way I take care of my body is all up to me. Only me. Do I have days at home where I eat milk and cookies and vegetable fried rice takeout? Of course I do. I don’t believe in cutting out food. I believe in balance. Even if it can be a real bitch sometimes to maintain.

Plus, David’s workout was an hour compared to a lot of my thirty- or forty-five-minute clients, and today, I needed the full sixty minutes of distraction.

Unfortunately for me, it didn’t matter if I had a fifty-pound weight on my thighs during my wall sits. The question on my mind still remains.

Why do men have to suck so damn bad?

It shouldn’t be that hard to find a good guy.

I know they’re out there. My best friends are living proof that they are. I’ve seen them in action. I’ve just yet had the chance to date one.

Honestly, there was one who came close. I even went as far as to take him to a work retreat once upon a time. But he claimed I was too intense for him. He wanted a laid-back life. Not one filled with goals and working out every day and precooked meals.

I get it. My lifestyle isn’t for everyone. That’s just fine. No two people are supposed to live the same life or have the exact same goals. We’re meant to be different, but it does help if your partner gets you, supports you, and wants you to reach your goals even if they don’t look like their own. That was my only boyfriend who gave me an actual reason—shit. This is exactly why I needed the full hour of self-torture. Once I get going on this mindset, I obsess over it.

I’m not boy crazy or man crazy or whatever you want to call it. I just want to find my person and make a life with him.

It sounds a lot simpler than it really is.

“Greer.” David has moved on to the next stretch. He’s even grabbed water from the cooler and is offering me one. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” I answer and stand. “That one was a doozy.”

I take the water and then grab my tablet to pull up my planner.

“Your wife comes in next. Did you want me to schedule the next few sessions as a joint one?”

Typically, I train only one client at a time, but the occasional couple doesn’t bother me. Especially David and Melanie. They’re a fun pair. They love a good challenge against one another.

“Yeah, but don’t tell her. Let’s keep it a surprise.”

I smile and add those notes to my schedule. He packs up his things and leaves.

I sneak into the back of the studio to make a snack just as my phone goes off. It’s a text reminder that my lawn guy is coming out tomorrow at eleven.

Shoot. I have a consultation for a new client at the same time, and I don’t want to reschedule.

I also can’t let the yard at my brand-new house die already either.

Despite my earlier pity party, I smile and do a little dance. Owning my own home was a big goal of mine, and I did it. All on my own.

I take a bite of my chocolate and cinnamon overnight oats. Who could possibly meet the lawn guy for me?

Willa is out of town. Calla, my other best friend, is just as busy with her own business, and Paige is visiting her brother. I bet Nora could do it.

I pull up her contact info and press the call button.

“Hey,” she answers on the first ring. “I was just about to call you and change my appointment tomorrow morning.”

“Is everything okay?” I grab my planner again.

“Yes, I just had a client call me with last-minute changes so tomorrow is going to be slammed.”

Nora owns her own marketing company and specializes in working with authors. I know how important clients can be, so Nora is clearly out.

“Okay, no problem. I’ll text you a few options for other openings I have this week, but it’s pretty slim.”

“You’re the best. Now, what did you call for?”

“Oh, I have the lawn guy coming tomorrow, but I have a new client. I was going to see if you could meet him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, babe. Ask Simon. He’s right there.”

Ah, yes, my neighbor. He’ll act like this small favor of letting someone into my backyard is a big inconvenience.

He’s grumpy like that.

But Simon Stone is Calla’s brother, and that’s the only reason I’d even consider asking him.

“Yeah, I probably will. I just know he’s busy.”

“So are you. Honestly, he just has to open the gate for them. Ask him.”

I could probably just leave the gate unlocked, but ick. It would drive me crazy all day knowing anyone could get into my space. I can’t do it.

“I will.”

“Okay, great. Let’s get dinner and drinks as soon as everyone is back in town.”

“Sounds great. Bye, Nora.”

As soon as we hang up, I finish eating my midmorning snack and then glance at the clock. I have a lunch date, and if I leave now, that’ll give me an hour to get ready with time to spare for visiting my neighbor. I’d call him, but we’ve only talked on the phone once, and that was months ago for his son, Grey. We’d met for dinner to go over some nutrition plans because Grey is getting into football and asked his dad if he could talk to a professional about the diet he should be on to set himself up for success. Honestly, it was the cutest thing. The fact we had this meeting at a restaurant that served unlimited chips and salsa was even better.

I push my bike, which I ride to and from work—downtown Wind Valley is only a ten-minute bike ride from my house—out the front door of the studio and lock up.

I remember that dinner like it was yesterday. Simon barely spoke. It was hard to get a word in with Grey talking and telling me all his goals for middle school and high school. He’s only ten but talks like he’s older. I loved that he has a plan and goals. Simon is very self-driven, so it makes sense that his kid is the same way. In the end, I gave him a few weeks of meal plan ideas, and we went our separate ways.

I’ll have to ask Simon if those plans worked out for Grey.

I ride down Main Street, waving at a few random people before I turn onto the street that takes me back into the neighborhood where I live.

I wasn’t born or raised in Wind Valley, but I went to college here and never left. Those people, the ones I don’t even know who just waved at me, are the reason why. People here are just kind and friendly. It makes for a peaceful place to live.

The men though? Slim pickings.

However, I have high hopes for my lunch date. He’s new to this area. I met him through an app, and he loves that I only schedule clients in the morning and the occasional evening, leaving my days open. Honestly, I didn’t plan that from the beginning. I just have a lot of nine-to-five clients who can only train outside that, so thus, my schedule was created.

Still, his support on my out-of-the-ordinary schedule was nice. Obviously, that’s not all I picked him on, but it was a perk.

I near my house, and my eyes trail in on my neighbor’s front porch the way they always do.

Simon is sitting at his little white two-person table with his laptop open in front of him and a glass of water next to it. Every day when I come home, he’s in this spot. Laptop and water and all. I mean, it has to be water because it’s a clear glass with clear liquid, and with his physique, I doubt he drinks much else besides a beer here or there at a friend’s barbeque. Even though I wouldn’t go as far to say Simon and I are friends, we do share a lot of them.

His gaze lifts from his laptop, and his eyes zero in on me.

“Hey, Simon.” I smile and wave as I ride past his house. “It’s so nice out today.”

I hold my smile with confidence but cringe on the inside. I’ve said the same thing to him every day since I moved in a month ago. And each day when I ride by with my signature greeting, he just watches me without saying a word.

What a dick comes to mind, but I don’t think that’s the case. I don’t know what his deal is, but I’ve seen him with Grey, and for as grumpy as Simon might be, I know deep down, he’s hiding a pretty great person.

Gross. Listen to me. Is this because I just want to see the good in a single guy?

It has to be.

I park my bike in front of my garage door and walk up the sidewalk to my front door. I pause when Simon stands, his arms raising above his head as he stretches.

Now, our houses aren’t kissing, but they are close enough for me to get a good view.

He’s got his back to me, but his simple light gray shirt hugs his body in all the best ways. I can see the ripples of his upper back muscles, and I hate that I like it. I could get technical, but honestly saying look at those trapezius and deltoids doesn’t sound as sexy.

Ugh, and the way his shirt hugs his biceps is great too. He flexes and the veins in his arms make an appearance. That’s hot. He reaches just a little higher, and his shirt rises, revealing two dimples in his lower back. He’s wearing sweats that are so perfectly low, if he turned around, I bet I’d see that V all the girls talk about.

Moody as he may be, Simon is easily the best-looking guy I’ve laid eyes on.

His arms drop and he sighs, one hand running through his thick black hair. He spins, sees me watching him, and pins his dark eyes on me.

What I would give to see a smile under that perfectly groomed scruff on his face.

He clears his throat.

I let out a bubble laugh and then disappear into my house.

So what if he caught me staring at him? I should probably feel guilty, but outside of his gorgeous appearance, he’s not my type. Not to mention, he’s never once shown any kind of interest in me. I’m clearly not his type either.

I smile.

I like to laugh.

I like conversation.

I jog up the stairs to my room and strip out of my leggings and sports bra and then get in the shower.

Enough hot neighbor talk. I have a date waiting for me, and I have a good feeling about this one.

Chapter Two

Simon

“Dad!”

I pull my gaze from the house next door, grab my computer and water, and head inside.

“Yeah?” I holler back to my ten-year-old son, Grey, who clearly can’t be bothered to just walk outside to get me.

“We need to leave soon,” he says, poking his head out of the kitchen, which is straight back from the front door at the back of the house. The living room is to the left, and the stairs that lead upstairs are to my right. Most of the houses in our neighborhood have the same layout. It’s how I know that Greer, one of my sister’s best friends who lives next door, has a house that mirrors mine. I also know this because it was on the market for so long that I toured it once to get ideas for the books I write.

I jog up the stairs to strip off my clothes to get ready. I’d been so into a zone this morning that as soon as I woke up and worked out, I’d gone right to the front porch to get some work done.

Steamy romantic suspense is my specialty, and something about having a house that wouldn’t sell right next door to me sparked ideas for an entire six-book series. I went crazy with ideas and pitched them to my agent, who got me a signed deal within a few weeks. It helps that I’ve had bestsellers before and that I have a good relationship with all the publishing houses I’ve signed with. I’ve never missed a deadline, and as long as I’m in control, I won’t ever.

It does, however, stress me out that I was so into a zone with the whole mystery house series that I agreed to closer deadlines when I signed the contract. Two months later, with four books of the series still left to write, the house was sold and that spark for the mysteriousness has dulled. Despite having a writing high this morning, that dull mood is not a good vibe for me right now.

Part of me thinks that if I could just get inside Greer’s house and walk around alone, maybe that inspiration would come back. Like, maybe somehow, I could spin the type of person who moved into the house into the story. It would be nothing like Greer because her personality doesn’t scream suspenseful. Her personality is more romcom. That’s not my area.

With my fingers at the waist of my sweats, I start to tug them down, then movement out of my bedroom window catches my eyes.

Greer.

In a towel.

Until Greer moved in, I had no idea how much I’d see the woman whose bedroom window is right across from mine.

Right now, our houses aren’t nearly far enough apart.

Her white towel is tied in a knot in front and her hair is up in a messy bun on top of her head as she opens drawer after drawer on her dresser, clearly undecided on what to wear.

Something more than skintight leggings and a crop top or sports bra, I hope.

I swear my mind and body can just sense when she’s near, and as soon as that feeling hits me, I have no control over the way my eyes find her no matter what I’m doing.

It’s why I’ll never comment on the way I catch her checking me out. Like earlier. I’m not sure she’s aware that she does this often when she’s around me. But then again, I watch her like some weirdo every day when she rides her bike home, so I guess we’ve sort of called a silent truce of how we will never mention it to the other.

I let out a laugh as I step into the cold water.

Fucking hell.

Grey.

That kid takes half hour-long hot showers anytime I’m outside writing. I know he does.

Love the kid to death, but that’s just unacceptable.

I wash quickly, wrap a towel around my waist, and head to my room to pick out clothes. Again, my eyes drift to the window.

There was only one other woman in my life who has ever stolen my attention the way Greer does.

Grey’s mom. Blair.

We met before my twenty-first birthday, fell in love quickly, and she got pregnant all within about six months. I proposed a year or so after Grey was born, and then a week before Grey’s second birthday, she left for the movies with friends. Next thing I knew, an officer was at our door to tell me about the car accident.

I hate that Grey has had to grow up without his mom. I hate that she never got to see him ride his first bike or hug him the first time he broke his arm. I hate that she never got her big day with the dress that’s still packed away because what if Grey meets someone and she… fuck.

I take a breath and sit on the bed.

This right here, this feeling of knowing I had something amazing and lost it is why I’ve never seriously dated since Blair. Have I come to terms and accepted life without her? Yes. Am I thankful for every moment we had together? Yes. But loving someone and losing them is a feeling I never want to experience again.

“Dad!” Grey walks into my room.

“Hey, buddy. Knock first, remember?”

He groans and closes the door.

“Are you almost ready?” he yells from the other side instead of knocking.

I shake my head and grab some shorts and a shirt.

“Yep.”

Then I slip on some sandals, brush my teeth, comb my hair, and open my door to find him waiting.

He looks at his watch.

“You’re cutting it close,” he says and leads me down the straight to the kitchen.

“We’re going to make it just fine.”

“Football starts at noon, and soccer is at three. I need to eat a proper amount of protein before then, Dad.”

“Got it.”

Hence why he’s rushing me out the door. I promised him a power salad from one of the local juice shops downtown before practice today.

“No more pizza. We’ve had it three times this week.”

“Okay, Dad,” I tease and roll my eyes behind him. “Go get your things.”

“They’re already in the truck.”

“Go brush your teeth then.”

“Done.” He smiles.

I glance around the clean kitchen, then I poke my head into the living room. There are actually vacuum lines in the carpet.

Damn. Okay. He can keep his half hour-long hot showers.

He grabs a water bottle from the cabinet and starts to fill it up at the fridge.

This single dad thing is tough shit sometimes, but I got lucky. Grey is a great kid.

“Stop staring at me,” he whines, and then grabs his backpack before walking out the door to the garage.

I can’t help but laugh.

Seriously, who is the parent here?

I hop into the truck, and as soon as we’re both buckled in, I head downtown. It’s a quick drive. The juice shop is four doors down from The Space, a community workspace location that Tobias and I just recently opened up.

We grab our salads and some juices before walking to The Space. There are a few spots open near the front window, so we take them.

I can’t help but be impressed with this place.

It’s been busy since we opened, and honestly, if I’m not writing on my porch, this is where I like to be.

“Hey,” Tobias says when he walks in. His computer bag is slung over his shoulder. “Are you working today?”

Tobias and I met in college. In fact, that’s how I met all my friends. Tobias, Beck, Hero, Zane, Beck, and I all write romance, so it was easy for us to bond in college, since it isn’t something a lot of guys choose as a career.

I shake my head to answer his question. “Just eating and relaxing before camp. I’ll be back while he’s there, though. My next book is due in two weeks, and the one after that is due in six.”

Tobias whistles. “I can’t believe you did that to yourself.”

I was convinced the house next door wouldn’t sell. A little too convinced. Clearly.

“Can you still meet the contractor this afternoon at three?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“I have soccer, Dad.” Grey cuts.

“Oh, right.” I look at Tobias. “Let’s move it to four.”

“You have to pick me up at four,” Grey adds.

Shit.

“I can move something around,” Tobias says. “I’ll meet him today.”

“Thanks.”

Tobias and I have plans to open more locations around Wyoming. So things are crazy in all areas of my life. I’m not in denial. I know I spread myself thin.

“Dad, look, it’s Greer,” Grey says and points out the front window with his fork. Her bike rolls to a stop in front of the window, and she waves at us. Then she climbs off her bike, leans it against the building, and pushes the door open.

My eyes take in her white shoes, her lean tan legs, and then focus on the coral dress she’s wearing that cinches at the waist and features a scoop neck. She has a small gold necklace with matching earrings, and her brown hair is down now, straight. Probably to accommodate the white bike helmet she’s wearing. Her bright chocolate eyes catch mine for a moment before she looks between me and my son.

I swallow and then take another bite before I say something stupid, like how fucking sexy she looks right now.

“Hey, you two. You are the exact duo I was looking for.”

 “Is it to give us more meal plans?” Grey asks.

“No, but I can definitely do that this weekend.”

“Cool.” Grey smiles, and then goes back to his Game Boy and lunch.

“I was actually looking for you,” she says.

I clear my throat and look up. “What do you need?”

“I need a favor tomorrow. The lawn in my backyard is dying fast and someone is coming to look at it. I was hoping you could let them in through the side gate. Or through the house since the gate lock can be a hassle sometimes.”

I’ll be honest, I was only half listening until she said go through her house. That’s the kind of help I need right now.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Really?” She beams. “It’s not a problem?”

I shake my head and look at my salad. “Nope.”

“Oh, great—here’s my spare key.”

Gold!

“I need to get going but thank you so much.”

“You look really pretty. Where are you going?” Grey asks.

“Oh, thank you. I have a lunch date.”

 “She looks super pretty, huh, Dad?”

 I turn my head slightly to glare at my kid but pull it together quickly.

“You do. Have fun.”

Greer laughs and then winks at me. “Thanks, neighbor.”

I watch as she walks over to the café catty-corner from us.

“Let’s go, bud.”

We finish our lunch, put it in the trash, and are headed to football camp when Grey speaks up.

“Oh no, I only packed my soccer shoes!”

“What?”

“We have to go home to get my cleats.”

“We don’t have time to grab them.”

“Call Aunt Calla.”

“Calla is busy, bud. Can’t you just wear your soccer shoes?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why not? They’re both on the field, right?”

“It’s not the same. I have to have different ones. Didn’t you ever play sports in school, Dad?”

It takes all I have not to roll my eyes. I sure did. His persistence in having all the right equipment is me to a tee when I was his age.

“All right, well, you’ll have to be late then.”

“Hurry, Dad.”

I head home, driving only five miles over, and Grey runs inside to grab his shoes. While I wait in the truck, a flash of coral and white goes by my rearview mirror.

I thought she had a lunch date.

I watch as Greer parks her bike, takes off her helmet, and walks up the sidewalk to her front door. She looks over for a split second. It’s not much, but it’s enough for me to see the tear sliding down her cheek. She swipes it away and goes inside.

My heart instantly clutches as I reach for the door handle.

I pause and take a breath.

Not my problem.

Not my problem.

Not my problem.

Grey comes running back and barely has the door open as he says, “Drive.”

I laugh. I didn’t know I was his getaway driver. But I wait for him to buckle up.

“You know what I was thinking,” he says as I back out of the driveway.

“What’s that?” I glance at Greer’s house in the rearview mirror.

I bet her date was a jackass. Clearly he was if he made her cry. That right there is just another reason I won’t ever date again. I’ve read some pretty bad first date stories. Hell, I’ve written them.

“You should get an assistant,” Grey says matter-of-factly as he switches out his shoes.

“For what?”

“Lots of things. Your book stuff, me, the house, the food we eat. I like clean clothes too.”

“I don’t need an assistant, and I always wash your clothes.”

“I still think you need one. Maybe your brain needs a break.”

I’m about to reply when my agent calls, the ring pausing the radio and filling the speakers.

“Doug, hey,” I answer through Bluetooth.

“Simon. How’s it going?”

“Good. Just headed to Grey’s first day of football camp.”

“Fun. Fun. I’ll make this quick. Did you happen to send those first three chapters over last night? My emails have been acting up, so I wanted to check.”

I groan.

“Nope. I forgot. I’ll do it as soon as I drop Grey off and open my computer.”

“Sounds good. Have fun, Grey.”

“Thanks, Doug!”

The call ends, and I drum my thumb against the steering wheel.

How did I forget to send those chapters?

“See?” Grey smiles at me in the rearview mirror. “An assistant could have helped you remember that.”

I nod but don’t say anything. He might be onto something.

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