Across The Street

Eva

I really should stop staring. The problem was that Lucas Davis made it incredibly difficult. Outside my front window, the mower hummed steadily across the yard. Lucas guided it through the thick summer grass with the same focus he seemed to bring to everything he did.

Methodical.

Deliberate.

Shirtless.

Which was absolutely not helping my concentration.

Sunlight glistened across his shoulders as he turned at the edge of the yard. Sweat traced along skin bronzed from long hours outdoors, highlighting muscles that looked as if they’d been carved from stubbornness and hard work. Not that I was paying attention. Much.

Okay, that was a lie.

I was paying a lot of attention.

Far more than any thirty-eight-year-old mother of two should have been paying attention to her neighbor. My neighbor. The thought still felt strange sometimes. Not because Lucas lived across the street. Because somewhere along the way, he’d stopped being just that. The mysterious man who moved into the empty house across from mine had become part of my life so gradually I hadn’t even noticed it happening.

Now he knew my daughters. He knew my dog’s bad habits. He knew my work schedule better than some of my coworkers. He knew when I was having a rough day before I admitted it. And somehow, despite spending most of his life avoiding attachments, Lucas had quietly woven himself into the fabric of my world. The mower shut off. Lucas bent to adjust something, then looked toward the house. Toward me. I immediately stepped back from the window. My heart jumped like a teenager caught staring at her crush.

Ridiculous.

Completely ridiculous.

A laugh escaped me.

Because if someone had told me a year ago that I’d be standing in my living room trying not to get caught watching my neighbor mow my lawn, I would’ve told them they were insane.

A year ago, Lucas Davis was just the quiet man across the street. The one nobody knew anything about. The one who kept to himself. The one my daughters noticed long before I did. And somehow, it all started because of a rabbit. A ridiculous rabbit. And my equally ridiculous dog, Max.

The memory pulled me backward instantly.

Back before the lawn.

Before the conversations.

Before the school events.

Before Lucas.

Back to the first week he’d moved into the neighborhood.

Back to the day my dog decided to introduce us.

“Max!”

The panic in my voice echoed across the front yard. No answer. Not that I expected one. Max was a dog. A very stubborn dog. A very stubborn dog who had apparently vanished. I stood in the middle of my front yard, hands on my hips, scanning the neighborhood.

Nothing.

No wagging tail.

No happy golden retriever.

No Max.

“Mom?” Deanna appeared at the front door.

“What happened?”

“I can’t find your dog.”

“Our dog.”

“My dog likes me more.”

Deanna rolled her eyes.

“Have you checked the cameras?” I blinked. Right, the cameras. I hurried back inside and pulled up the security feed. The answer appeared almost immediately.

There was Max. Trotting through the front yard. Then squeeze through a gap in the decorative fence. Then taking off down the driveway after a rabbit. A rabbit that looked completely unaware it had just ruined my afternoon.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?”

“Rabbit.” Deanna nodded solemnly.

“That tracks.” Five minutes later I was jogging down the street in search of sixty pounds of fur and bad decisions. I rounded the corner near the neighborhood entrance. Then stopped. Because standing beside the sidewalk was a man I’d never seen before.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

Dark-haired, lightly flushed from what looked like a morning run, and wearing a fitted dark tank top and athletic pants that left very little to the imagination regarding how he spent his free time.

And holding Max’s collar while my traitorous dog sat happily at his feet, looking completely unbothered by the neighborhood panic he’d just caused.

The man glanced up as I jogged toward them, still trying to catch my breath—though half my oxygen seemed to vanish the moment his eyes locked onto mine.

Gray eyes. Cool, steady, and unreadable.

For a man who had recently moved in as a retired Marine around forty, he was built like a tactical fortress. Broad chest, trim waist, and muscular arms corded with lean definition and a light sheen of sweat that caught the morning light. As a thirty-eight-year-old widowed mother whose romantic radar had been powered down for years, my brain short-circuited for two solid seconds before politely reminding me that I was standing in the middle of the street chasing a runaway golden retriever.

Then Max barked.

Right. Focus, Eva. Dog first.

“Max!” I gasped.

The dog immediately bounded toward me the moment the stranger let go. I grabbed his collar with both hands before he could launch another escape attempt.

“Oh my God.” I straightened up, laughing breathlessly while trying very hard to keep my eyes anchored to his face and away from his biceps. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” His voice was deep. Quiet. Controlled. Everything about him seemed controlled, right down to his balanced, athletic stance. “He got lucky.”

I looked down at Max, giving his collar a gentle shake. “You did not get lucky. You got caught.” Max thumped his tail harder against the pavement.

The stranger’s mouth twitched slightly. Almost a smile. Almost. “He squeezed through the fence.”

I groaned, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “I’ve been meaning to fix those gaps.”

He nodded once. “The decorative fencing?”

“Unfortunately.” I sighed. “It’s not doing much decorating if my dog keeps escaping through it.”

That earned a real smile. Small. Brief. But paired with that chiseled jaw and those gray eyes, it was devastatingly effective. Not that I noticed. Much.

“Lucas.” He extended his hand. “I’m Lucas Davis.”

“Eva Lee.”

I reached out and shook it. Strong grip. Calloused palm. Warm skin. There was a quiet, solid strength to his touch that sent an unexpected jolt straight through me. Something about the simple handshake felt unexpectedly significant.

He released my hand first. Of course he did. Lucas looked like the kind of man who always knew exactly when to let go.

“It was nice meeting you, Eva.”

He gave a slight nod and started to turn back toward his driveway. And for reasons I couldn’t explain—and definitely didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to analyze on a Tuesday morning—I found myself watching him walk away, wishing he wouldn’t.

I had no idea then that he was about to change my life. Or that one year later I’d be standing at my window watching him mow my lawn and wondering how I’d ever lived without him.