Then he threw his head back and laughed.

I was right, it was him.

Who laughs so uninhibitedly?

He grinned down at me, his dimples on full display. “Come over, Mac.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” I rushed out, shaking my head emphatically. “I was about to head inside.”

“Mac.”

“What?”

“Come over.”

“I’m—”

“Got ribs, chicken, more sides than we need, and a shit-ton of desserts.”

My hunger grew with each item he listed off until I thought I’d bust through the fence like the Kool-Aid Man.

“Plus…” He shot me a wink. “I got chairs.”

I added that to the fictional movie plans in my head. It could just be him as an antihero who winked at the camera for ninety minutes. It would break box office records and sweep at award season.

“I really can’t, but thank you,” I tried.

“You’d be doing me a favor,” he added. “Otherwise, the chair I’m standing on is gonna give out, and I’ll break my neck.”

Well, when he puts it like that, it’d be rude for me to say no.

Dangerous even.

“You don’t have to stay,” he added, giving me options. “I’ll fix you a plate, and you can take it home. It’ll be worth it for the mac and cheese alone.”

There was only so much I could resist. I was only so strong. Only human.

Sure, the hot man with the dimples and the wink was persuasive.

But it was the promise of cheese that did me in.

I would go over, eat just enough to satisfy my growling stomach, and then go home.

Easy.

“Fine,” I relented. I’d barely finished the word when Ward disappeared from his perch.

Okay then…

Standing, I headed for the fence door as a tattooed arm reached over to unlock and swing it open.

“You didn’t have to come over here,” I said. “I can manage this long, treacherous walk.”

“Never said you couldn’t.” He stood back so I could exit. “Did you get my note?”

“Yeah, thanks. That was neighborly of you.”

“Never know when you’ll need a cup of sugar.” He snagged the plastic container from my hand and sneered. “Or edible food.”

I craned my neck to scowl up at him. “Stop insulting my food. How do you know I didn’t cook it?”

He placed a hand on my lower back to turn me toward his fence door that was right next to mine. “Did you?”

“No.” A victorious smile started to curve his mouth until I added, “That’s better than I could do. I’m a shitty cook.”

Like he thought that was hilarious and not a shortcoming, I got another of his deep laughs. Even if I was confused—and slightly envious—by how easily he was able to do that, I enjoyed how it looked up close.

For a second, at least.