“Oh man, love gone wrong in the best way,” her best friend murmured beside her. “All that hunky muscle, those sexy, testosterone-filled glares.” Katie sighed. “Yum.”

Justine shifted to see better. “What are they saying? It got quieter.”

“Now I can’t see. Move over,” Katie whispered. “I am so jealous you live here. Yesterday at my place, seventy-nine year old Mrs. Purcell was duking it out with the Super over her dying Christmas wreath. It’s the same thing every year. She tries to hold onto the brittle thing, needles everywhere, as long as she can. But by May, we’ve all had enough. My building is filled with old people battling over door decorations, laundry carts, and freight elevator access.” Katie paused. “Of course, I constantly struggle for the elevator and always end up carting my laundry around by the basket. Hmm. Maybe I should get in on those fights, might make my life a little easier.”

“Shh.” Justine clapped a hand over her friend’s mouth and stared in shock as angry Dan took a swing at the hottie from 2C.

But 2C somehow dodged and maneuvered around the brute, putting Dan in a headlock he couldn’t break out of.

She eyed the straining forearms and bulging biceps from 2C and indulged in a few rushed, heated fantasies.

“Super sexy,” her best friend said, muffled against Justine’s hand. Then the weirdo licked her.

“Ew.” She wiped her hand on Katie’s jeans. “You’re disgusting.”

2C glanced over and saw them staring. He grimaced. “Enough, Dan. My neighbors are going to call the police if this keeps up, and I don’t think you or I want any more drama. It’s over.” He relaxed his hold and pushed Dan away.

Dan gave him a courtesy one-fingered salute, turned, and breezed past Justine and Katie down the stairs, swearing all the while.

They exchanged a look. What now?

Katie shoved her into the hallway. After shooting daggers at her friend, Justine approached 2C with a bland smile.

He dragged a weary hand through hair colored a deep brown that bordered on auburn in the right light. Rocking the facial hair—a full goatee and beard lining a square jaw—he seemed a mix of tough guy and sensitive soul, judging from the apology in his expressive brown eyes.

“Bad breakup?” Katie asked, following behind Justine.

He sighed. “You could say that. Women suck.”

Well then, maybe not so much an apology as stupidity shining in those eyes.

“Men aren’t much better,” Justine muttered.

He frowned at her.

She frowned back.

“Should you be in this building?” His deep voice held more than a thread of disapproval.

Justine had no idea her neighbors lived such turbulent lives. Aunt Rosie owned the unit but hadn’t lived in it full-time until this past year. Though close to her aunt, Justine hadn’t ever visited due to a grueling work schedule and her aunt’s chaotic lifestyle, though they talked often. But hadn’t Aunt Rosie told her the place was quiet and full of nice, fairly boring people?