Mr Right Across the Street - Kathryn Freeman Page 0,1

‘I’ll knock his block off.’

Mia burst out laughing. ‘Way to go, Mum. With you in my corner, I have nothing to fear.’ And really she wasn’t afraid of Pete; he hadn’t hurt her physically. But in the year she’d dated him, his messages had gone from sweet, to possessive, to downright mean when she’d told him she no longer wanted to see him. Yet another boyfriend who’d turned out to be vastly different from advertised. Clearly, her judgement when it came to men totally sucked. Either that, or there were only two decent men left in this world; her dad, and Dave, her brother-in-law.

God, what a depressing thought.

The guy in the flat across from her, the one flashing his muscles, caught her attention again. If her theory was right, he was probably an axe murderer, and all this weight training was to help him wield the deadly weapon with greater precision.

‘Mia, are you still there?’

Shit. ‘Sorry, yes I’m here.’ Just a tiny bit distracted.

‘Well whatever it is you’re looking at, you need to stop and listen to your mum. I know friendships take time, but I don’t want to think of you up there with only your pensioner neighbour to talk to. It would be okay if you worked in an office, but all you do all day is sit in front of a computer.’

‘I don’t only sit here. Sometimes I work.’

‘Very funny. Now promise me and your dad that you’ll drag yourself away from that screen and go … wherever you youngsters go these days to meet people. A café, bar, gym.’

‘Gym? Do you not know your daughter at all?’ Mia had never fancied the idea of sweating next to gym bunnies in tight lycra. She preferred exercise with a purpose. As a kid she’d tried out loads of sports before finally finding one where her individuality – or as her school mates had called it, her weirdness – was respected, not mocked. ‘I’ve found a local judo class, Mum.’ She omitted the part about it not starting up again until September. ‘As for meeting people, we youngsters do everything online now. No need to brave the outside. I can view prospective dates from the luxury of my own four walls.’

‘Not that Grinding app I hope. Debbie said she overheard her niece talking about it and it was like dial-for-sex, no, wait, swipe-for-sex.’

Mia burst out laughing. ‘God, Mum, have you any idea what you’re talking about? But okay, message received,’ she added quickly before her mum could take the conversation down any further dodgy alleys. ‘Now I need to get on and do some sitting at my computer. Love to Dad and I’ll phone next week.’

As she ended the call, Mia gave the view opposite a final ogle before dragging her eyes back to her computer screen.

Luke rattled the bar back onto the rack and heaved a sigh of relief. Shit, this was getting harder, not easier. Was it possible that at thirty-four, he was getting old? A shudder ran through him. No way. He was just having an off day. Probably his body was exhausted following the workout it had been given last night by Tanya; long legs, flaming red hair and apparently boundless energy.

After giving Pickles a pat on the head and her daily carrot – the name wasn’t his idea, nor was the rabbit, but he was stuck with both – he dived into the shower. At exactly 11.29 a.m. – Fridays were one of the days they opened for lunch – he slammed his front door behind him and bounded down the stairs.

‘Morning boss.’ Sandy, waiting outside the bar for him to open up, glanced at her watch. ‘A whole three seconds early today. Wow, you spoil me.’

‘I cut out the shave.’ He waggled his eyebrows. ‘Tanya reckons the rugged look suits me.’

‘Tanya?’ Sandy raised her right brow. ‘What happened to Sophie?’

Luke flipped on the lights and started lifting the chairs off the tables and onto the floor. ‘Nothing happened to Sophie. We saw each other for a bit, now we’re not.’

As Sandy mumbled something along the lines of not being able to keep up, Luke took a moment to survey his domain. Ten years since he’d moved into his flat and started work at the bar beneath it – and yes, the one-minute commute to work had been part of the appeal, though the decision on where to live hadn’t solely been his to make. Those first few years had been tough, money had