Accidental Daddy Next Door

ACCIDENTAL DADDY NEXT DOOR DAD’S BEST FRIEND ENEMIES TO LOVERS ROMANCE MADISON RICE CONTENTS 1. Liam 2. Jasmine 3. Liam 4. Jasmine 5. Liam 6. Jasmine 7. Liam 8. Jasmine 9. Liam 10. Jasmine 11. Liam 12. Jasmine 13. Liam 14. Jasmine 15. Liam 16. Jasmine 17. Liam 18. Jasmine 19. Liam 20. Jasmine 21. Liam 22. Jasmine 23. Liam 24. Jasmine 25. Liam 26. Jasmine 27. Liam 28. Jasmine Also by Madison Rice LIAM If it wasn’t one damn thing it was another. I’d been driving home from touring some real estate properties, and I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I was exhausted, and I booked a presidential suite at a four-star hotel. Now I stared down at my phone, dismayed at the text message cancelling my reservation. When I called, it turned out to be a burst pipe somewhere in the hotel. They were canceling all their reservations. Fuck me. Now I’d have to look for a hotel in the busiest season of the year, in Florida. Specifically, near Panama City, about an hour away from my small town. Panama City was near Mexico Beach, and it was usually booked up this time of the year. I’d already been stressed since my new neighbor was supposed to be moving in soon. Marta Donaldson, the previous owner, hadn’t been the best neighbor, but I was sorry that she’d passed away. She’d been funny, anyway, even if she’d been a pain in my ass, and who knew what the new neighbor would bring. I’d been nervous about it all week. I didn’t like change, and I certainly didn’t like someone I didn’t know moving in next door to me. I didn’t own the house or the land it was in, much to my chagrin, and I had no control over who moved in there. I’d tried to buy the property several times from Marta, but she’d just smiled at me and told me I was stuck with her for a neighbor. I heaved a deep sigh and turned off on the next exit to find a hotel. The car was a daily driver that I’d had since I was young. I had a dozen cars in my garage, but this was the one I was most attached to, even though it was fifteen years old. I pulled up to the only hotel in town that showed a vacancy, and pulled upfront to the dismal valet. The kid who took my keys seemed all of sixteen, so I tipped him well, hoping he didn’t ding it when he parked. The car was old, but it was my baby. It was tourist season for the beach, unfortunately, which meant that the small beach town I lived in, Panama City, Florida, was booked up for the summer. I went to three different hotels before I started on the motels, and they weren’t much better. Always a tight smile and a “no vacancy” when I showed up. I hadn’t bothered calling around, knowing that sometimes cancellations would open up a few rooms. When I walked up to reception at the worst motel in town, the desk clerk’s eyes widened and I rolled my head around on my shoulders. Here we go. “Are you... are you Liam Brentwood?” The guy looked about twenty-five, so I was surprised he knew my face. “That’s me,” I said dryly, pulling out my wallet to book the room. “Oh, my God, Liam Brentwood! I was your biggest fan before you got the light heavyweight belt and retired! I was so sad to hear about it.” “Me too,” I mumbled, pushing my card across the desk. The kid’s eyes grew wider as he typed on the computer. “Oh, no,” he nearly whispered. “Oh no?” The kid gulped like I might hit him. “I just booked our last room.” “Shit,” I cursed under my breath and I could swear the kid flinched. People that knew me from my fighting days always acted this way, and it would be funny if it wasn’t so damn annoying. Standing at six feet tall, I was still pretty muscular because I took the gym seriously, and the cauliflower ears and full sleeves of tattoos didn’t make me any less intimidating. My mixed martial arts career had lasted for nearly ten years, until I blew out my back and my knee all at once in a fight. That was it, game over. You can’t fight with a busted back or a busted knee, and I needed surgery on both. I missed it, missed the physicality of it, the way flesh felt when I threw my fist into it. The real estate that I did now didn’t give me anything close to that kind of rush. My whole life, all I ever wanted to be was a fighter. My parents had other designs, wanting all of us to be successful in a way that they weren’t. I’d grown up dirt poor with my three brothers, and we’d all taken different paths to our riches. I guessed that out of all of us, I was the only one with both my own career and the family business. I knew from day one that fighting wasn’t going to last forever, so I’d gotten my real estate license young, told myself that I could retire in a decade and live off my winnings and just flip some houses on the side. Life doesn’t always work out like you planned it. Now, I’m left with a bum knee and a bum back, and the only fighting I do is with a punching bag in my home gym. I’d changed since my days as a fighter, and despite my issues with my neighbor, I knew she wasn’t the only one in the wrong. I could be hard to live with, especially now that I needed everything just so. I’d always been a bit of a control freak, but after my injuries, and my divorce, I felt like now I needed more