Chapter 3: The Neighbor’s Reveal

I didn’t expect the border collie to live right next door!

I watched as she wriggled through the neighbor’s gate like she’d done it a thousand times. My jaw nearly hit the sidewalk, and I had to stifle a gasp.

The neighbor had only recently moved in, so I hadn’t met them yet.

There were still unopened boxes on the porch, and the mailbox had a new name taped over the old one: Brooks.

But they clearly had good taste—the yard was stylishly arranged with all kinds of flowers and plants, and there was a big tank in the yard with little fish swimming inside. The place looked like something out of a Better Homes & Gardens spread.

A neat row of potted hydrangeas lined the walkway, and the koi tank sparkled in the sunlight. Someone here definitely cared about curb appeal.

The border collie trotted forward. Suddenly, a pair of fair, slender hands reached out from under the porch and held it back.

The hands were gentle but firm, expertly guiding the dog away from the flower beds. I could tell this wasn’t their first rodeo.

“Where are you off to this time?”

The voice was low and smooth, with just a hint of a smile—like he was used to talking to troublemakers, or maybe kids who’d gotten into the Halloween candy early.

Then a tall man stepped out of the shadows. The noon sunlight lit up his refined features, and his straight nose cast a deep shadow across his face.

He looked like he belonged in a Ralph Lauren ad, not in my sleepy cul-de-sac. The sun caught in his hair, making it almost golden at the tips, and I noticed a faint grass stain on his jeans—finally, a flaw in the perfection.

Under the blazing sun, he looked like a movie star who’d just stepped off a film set, but with just enough real-life mess to make him human.

I had to remind myself to breathe. Was this a rom-com or real life? My cheeks heated up as I realized I was staring.

A very handsome man.

The kind you’d expect to see sipping coffee in a fancy Manhattan café, not wrangling a dog next door to me.

I was stunned by his looks, staring at him like an idiot. My brain short-circuited, and I almost tripped over my own feet.

I could feel my face heating up, and I desperately hoped I didn’t look as starstruck as I felt. I tried to play it cool, but my jaw was practically on the ground.

He lifted his chin slightly, his jawline taut and sharp.

Even the way he looked at me felt cinematic—like he was sizing up an extra in his story. I suddenly wished I’d changed out of my donut-print pajamas.

“And you are?”

His tone was casual, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, like he was waiting for a punchline.

I snapped back to reality, suddenly afraid he’d think I was a weirdo stalking his dog. I quickly waved my hand. “Hey, hi! I’m your neighbor next door!”

I forced a cheerful smile, trying to play it cool while my heart pounded in my chest. If this was a meet-cute, I was failing miserably.

He nodded. “Hello, neighbor. Can I help you?”

His voice was even, but there was a subtle edge—like he was used to being in control, but maybe a little amused by the chaos.

Only then did I remember why I’d come, but for some reason, all my anger melted away in the face of his handsomeness, and even my words lost their bite.

I swallowed, then pointed at the border collie circling him. “Your dog comes to my house every day for food… I think you should feed your kid better. It’s eaten several hundred dollars’ worth of my canned food and dog food.”

I tried to sound stern, but my voice came out a little squeaky at the end. So much for intimidation.

The border collie acted like it didn’t hear, trotting inside.

She shot me a quick, guilty glance—then disappeared behind his legs, as if she knew exactly what she was doing. Her tail wagged in a way that said, "Sorry, not sorry."

The man frowned, standing on the steps looking down at me. “No wonder Bailey hasn’t wanted to eat dinner lately. Please don’t feed my Bailey anymore. She has a sensitive stomach. If she eats the wrong things… she’ll get sick.”

He sounded so earnest, like a parent worried about their kid’s peanut allergy. I almost felt bad for being annoyed.

He looks human, but why does he talk like a dog parent?

I’d met helicopter parents before, but never for a dog. Was this some new suburban trend? Was I missing the memo on "fur babies"?

Is this how people talk?

Was I missing something? Was there a secret dog-parents’ club I didn’t know about?

I was annoyed. “It’s your Bailey who comes into my yard every day, okay! If you fed her enough, would she eat Daisy’s food?”

My frustration bubbled up again, and I put my hands on my hips for emphasis, tapping my foot for good measure.

A trace of disdain flashed across his face. His long lashes drooped, and he said lightly, “My Bailey only eats imported dog food that costs a hundred bucks a bag from the fancy pet store downtown.”

He said it so casually, like he was talking about designer shoes. Was I supposed to be impressed?

The implication being, my bargain-brand food wasn’t worthy. I could practically hear the unspoken "bless your heart."

I was so angry I laughed—a sharp, incredulous sound that made him blink.

I let out a little snort, shaking my head in disbelief. This was too much.

I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I took out a dog food sample pack I’d just bought from Chewy and shook it.

The crinkle of the plastic was like a doggy dinner bell. I waved it in the air, daring him to say something else.

At the sound of the plastic, the border collie shot out like an arrow, completely ignoring its owner’s dark expression, and started acting cute around me.

She did a little dance, tail wagging so hard it nearly knocked over a potted plant. The man looked like he’d swallowed a lemon.

Actions speak louder than words!

I grinned, feeling victorious, and tossed the sample on the ground.

The border collie happily nudged it with her wet nose, picked up the little bag, and trotted back inside.

She gave me one last grateful look before disappearing into the house, sample pack in tow.

I looked up at the man. “It’s for you—no need to thank me. Keep an eye on your dog.”

I flashed my brightest customer-service smile, just to rub it in.

Without waiting for his reaction, I turned and left, giving him a back view he’d never catch up to.

I tossed my hair for good measure, feeling like I’d just won a round on reality TV.

Just my luck, having such a ridiculous neighbor.

I muttered under my breath, "Welcome to the suburbs, Rachel."