MY BEAUTIFUL NEIGHBOR (The Greene Family #1)

Chapter 1

“Sure, I’ll just jump over the casket, interrupting the entire service, and say, ‘Hey, sorry about your mom, but her store? How much do you want for it?’” I whisper to my stepbrother, Jed.

“I meant after the service is done. I’m not a complete asshole.”

I c**k my eyebrow, and he snickers. My dad turns around and gives us his classic glare. The one that says, “shut the hell up.” We both shove our hands in the pockets of our slacks and bow our heads.

Once the prayer is over, the preacher says, “Amen.”

Everyone stands straighter, and low whispers from the population of Sunrise Bay sound on the light breeze, all directed to Clara Harrison over the loss of her mother.

Jed and I walk down the hill from the cemetery together because Clara decided to hold her mother’s wake at our brewery for some reason, which means we have to get over there to open it and make sure everything is ready to go.

“I’m simply suggesting you ask a question,” he says, climbing into his truck.

“Then you do it,” I say.

“Why would I ask when she’s your brother’s best friend?”

“Don’t forget, she’s your stepbrother’s best friend.”

Jed always uses the whole “your brother” or “your sister” thing when he doesn’t want to do something. I don’t see him saying he’s not his brother when he uses the fact that Xavier is a pro football player to try to pick up women. And I didn’t see him decline the tickets to watch a game from a box suite when Xavier offered them.

“You’ve known her your entire life,” he argues, then pulls away from the curb.

“Which makes it all that much more insensitive.” He is not going to win this argument.

We wave to the rest of our family coming down the hill to reach their vehicles. Xavier’s arm is wound tightly around Clara’s shoulders. I feel her pain. Hell, my gaze lingers as we pass my mother’s burial plot, and I get that stabbing sensation in my heart like I do every time I see it—even if it has been eighteen years. The healing process can be long and difficult, but she’ll get through it like I did at the age of twelve.

“You realize that Chuck on the other side wants to expand as well. We have to use any advantage we have.”

Jed’s not wrong. It’s one of the reasons why our partnership in Truth or Dare Brewery has worked. In business, Jed thinks long-term while I think short term. I plan fun trivia nights and I’m concerned about the customers we have now enjoying themselves, while his goal is for our beer to be in every grocery store and bar in the nation. It works for us.

I know he’s right, that I need to get to Clara first. I don’t think she’ll want to do anything with her mom’s old sewing store next door to our brewery, but who can say for sure? I have to persuade her to sell us the space so we can knock down the wall and expand the brewery. And I will talk to her—just not on Jed’s timeline.

But Jed also isn’t a Sunrise Bay lifer, so maybe that’s why we see things differently. Sure, he’s been here since he was seventeen when his mom fell in love with my dad, blending our two families together, but then we went off to college. Jed forgets that Sunrise Bay is a small Alaskan town that takes care of their own. If I approach Clara today, gossip will spread that I’m an insensitive asshole. And it’d be right.

“I know. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her, but not today,” I say.

“I don’t see the problem with a question like ‘are you into sewing?’ I mean, what do we know about Clara, other than she wants to nail Xavier?”

I scrunch my eyebrows. “They’re best friends. Platonic best friends.”

He laughs. “You’re insane if you really think that. She knows his stats better than he does. She makes you organize those nights at the brewery for him every time he plays. She paints his number on both of her cheeks. She wants him.”

“I don’t know. I never got that impression that she liked him in that way.”

Jed shakes his head, pulling into the back lot of the brewery. “This is why you need to get out there.”

I climb out of his truck, shedding my suit jacket immediately. It’s early spring, so it’s still a bit chilly, but I’d rather deal with the cold than the confines of wearing a suit. “Out where?”

“Out in the dating world.”

Unlike Jed, I rarely go outside of Sunrise Bay. When we graduated from college and got the loan to start the brewery, I put everything I had into it, wanting it to be a success. I had girlfriends in college, but I always knew I was coming back here to my hometown of Sunrise Bay, Alaska. I didn’t want to live anywhere else, and not every woman wants to live in a small town this far north. That’s not to say I’m celibate either, but my family doesn’t need to know all my business, even though they think they do.

We walk into the brewery, flipping on the lights. I head to the front door, unlock it, and put out the chalkboard sign that states we’re closed for a private party. Mrs. Harrison’s sewing store is next door, dark and abandoned. I’m not sure the last time it was open. When Mrs. Harrison was first diagnosed, Clara tried to keep up the store in the hopes that her mom would beat the disease and could come back to it. But unfortunately, she didn’t so now it sits in the middle of our main square, looking like it went out of business.

I walk over and fix the awning that flipped up from the wind last night, but there’s no hiding the fading and ripped navy material. Our wonderful mayor, Sam Klein, put in a mandate for all the businesses in the square to have matching awnings to make us look uniform. One of his many annoying mandates.

Our square portion of downtown is pedestrian-friendly. It’s literally a square with all the parking at the backs of the buildings. Cobblestone streets separate the shops from one side to the other, and during tourist season, white string lights are hung from one side of the road to the other. During the holiday season, it’s colored lights paired with long strips of garland. Sunrise Bay is as charming as any town I’ve ever seen, and I’m lucky to call it home.

On my way back into the brewery, my eyes catch sight of a blonde sitting on the park bench in the open area next to The Grind. She’s dressed in funeral attire—black pants and black heels. I can’t see her shirt since her black coat is covering it. She must be a guest, maybe waiting for others to arrive. There’s something familiar about her, though I can’t place her. Maybe if she’d look up from her phone, I’d stand a better chance.

“That’s her,” Nikki says, and I glance over my shoulder to see my stepsisters Nikki and Mandi stopped right outside of the brewery. “Who is she?”

Mandi shrugs. “She was at the funeral.”

I walk over to them. “Is that why she looks familiar? Is she from around here?”

Because Sunrise Bay is small, if you don’t know the person, you at least recognize them. Since we’re not in the middle of tourist season, seeing outsiders is unusual—unless they’re from a neighboring town like Lake Starlight. But if she was at the funeral, that would mean she knows the Harrisons.

“Maybe she was a customer,” I offer.

Nikki scoffs, but that’s Nikki. She’s always looking for a more clandestine angle. “No way. You’re telling me that girl sews?”

“What?” I ask. I mean, my little sister, Chevelle, went through that phase when she tried to make her own clothes after she heard how manufactured fabric could be toxic. “Why not?”

“Look at her clothes. Her nails? Her hair? It’s all done to perfection. I’d bet money she’s not a customer, which means it’s something else…” Nikki taps her lips with her own perfectly manicured nails. Takes one to know one, I suppose.

“Try not to make your story too far from the truth,” I say, walking into the brewery.

“Hey,” she says, following me, “I always tell the truth in my segments.”

“Sure you do.” I grab a tray of wings from one of our servers to arrange it on the tables we pushed together along the back wall for a buffet-style pick-and-go.

“I take that as an insult,” she says as she walks away.

As if small town gossip isn’t enough, my stepsister has decided to fill everyone in on the buzz during her morning radio show. You know, just in case someone happened to miss it.

A few more people are in here now, all shedding their coats as they find a table. We’ve set our two most popular beers in the middle of each with glasses to share.

Xavier walks Clara in. She’s holding up surprisingly well. Coming from such a big family, I can’t imagine being the last family member alive. Her dad died in a fishing accident that killed five men six years ago, her grandma died thirteen years ago, and now her mom. Since she’s an only child, she doesn’t have anyone else.

But I’m not too worried about her. As Xavier goes to fix her a plate, my stepmom, Marla, grabs Clara’s hands and squeezes, leading her to a table. The Greenes will pick her up as one of our own.

For some reason, my gaze is pulled back to the park bench. The woman isn’t there anymore. Turning toward the room, I scour the guests, recognizing pretty much everyone. No sign of her.

“It might be good news for Clara. Maybe it’s an aunt or something. Some long-lost relative,” I overhear Nikki talking to her best friend, Molly.

“Molly should be working,” I say. “Not listening to your absurd theories about some woman minding her own business on a park bench.”

Molly fills a pitcher and hands it over to another server to deliver.

Nikki puts up her hand as if we’re thirteen. “I can talk to my best friend. Stay out of it.”

“Yeah, A and B conversation,” Molly jokes. “C your way out of it.”

“Funny. I’m paying your best friend, so for the next two hours, she’s not your accomplice in churning gossip.”

I’m not sure why I have such a dislike for the gossip of a small town. I mean, I chose to come back here after college knowing the score—there’s no privacy. But finding out that my dad was sleeping with his cousin’s ex-wife from someone other than him back when I was seventeen left a mark. Even if it all worked out and he’s now married to her and I gained four stepsiblings and one half-sibling. Talk about having our lives spotlighted in this town. With spotlights come expectations.

“There’s my grandson.” Grandma Ethel hugs me, barely meeting me chest level. “I was just telling Dori that I hope to be dancing at your wedding soon.”

I roll my eyes inwardly because if I did it outright, Grandma Ethel would pinch me like she used to when I was little. It doesn’t matter that I’m thirty now. But these are the kinds of expectations I was talking about.

“Doubtful,” I say. I’m not going to sugarcoat the fact that they might never get their way. I’m not playing into their expectations.

Being the eldest Greene means everyone wants to know when I’m going to settle down. Jed is the same age as I am, but everyone knows Jed is at least five years from being ready to settle down, so I’m somehow being pushed into dating so I can procreate. “Carry on the name,” George from Handyman Haven told me last week. “You don’t want to die alone,” someone else said. And the best one yet, “Your mom would want to see you settled with a family.” That one came from Zoe at The Grind. The kicker is that she was my mom’s business partner, so maybe she actually knows what my mom would’ve wanted for all of us.

“Oh, Ethel, let him be. When he finds the right one, he’ll know. From my experience, it happens when you least expect it. You never know who your forever is until you do,” Dori Bailey says.

I rock back on my heels and nod. Usually she and my grandma are thick as thieves, so I’m surprised she’s telling my grandma to lay off. I’ve heard the rumors about Dori and the way she manipulated all her grandchildren. Not happening on my watch.

“All he needs is to get laid!” Jed claps me on the shoulder.

“Jed Greene!” Grandma Ethel scolds, but he laughs and kisses her cheek.

“Looking good, Bibi.”

Grandma Ethel’s eyes flash with adoration. Since Jed already has two grandmas, he calls Grandma Ethel, Bibi, which is Swahili. Only Jed could get away with something like that. Him and his charismatic personality win over everyone.

He looks at me. “Did you ask Clara yet?”

I open my mouth to answer, but a silence falls over the room.

“And the plot thickens,” Nikki whispers from my other side.

I turn toward the door as the blonde from the park bench steps into the brewery. I swear a stiff breeze follows her, alerting all of us that something big is about to happen.