Page 2 of The Ex Next Door (Charming, Texas #8)

D eclan Sheridan could handle unpleasantness.

He’d lived through plenty in his thirty-plus years.

Tragic Dallas Cowboy losses, Houston Astros slaughters, his own rather tepid MLB career, girlfriends slapping and cursing him out, his father breathing down his back, his mother’s drastic matchmaking and his brother, Finn, moving out six months ago, just when he’d come to depend on him to help with the rent.

But he was not going to watch Amy push that behemoth of a box another second. Nope.

Not going to do it. That was final.

He’d been watching from his window since the moving van pulled up, surprised to see Amy hauling boxes into the house next door.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know what was happening.

He was a bartender at the Salty Dog and was practically a central deposit for all rumors and gossip.

Everyone spilled their guts to him over a cold beer.

It was all over town that Amy and Rob had divorced.

Still, what a loser not to at least be here to help his kids.

At least she had some help, in the form of Lou and Moonbeam But a pair of sixty-somethings, one of them with a bad back, were not going to get this done.

No need for formalities. They knew each other well even if it had been some time since they ran in the same social circles. Amy had been married and was raising a family. Her friends were other soccer moms.

“Move aside, Amy,” Declan ordered. “You’re in my way.”

“I’m not going anywhere. And I don’t need your help.”

“Oh, yes you do.”

But if she wouldn’t move out of his way, this could be difficult.

She was still just as pretty as she’d ever been, a smatter of freckles across her pert nose, her dark hair pulled up in a ponytail. She was his age but looked younger today wearing no makeup and a baseball cap.

“Let him help.” This was from Lou. “You know I’d do it if I could.”

“Mom, I’m tired,” her little boy said, taking a seat on the grass and pulling out a tuft of it.

Her little girl was already sitting on the porch step with a book. Smart kid.

Moonbeam stood beside Lou, arms crossed, eyes blazing, clearly wanting to throttle Declan. But also possessing a keen understanding that they needed his help here. No matter what she thought of her daughter’s first boyfriend.

“Ask yourself whether you’d let anyone else help you right now. Anyone that isn’t me.”

That landed with her. There was only one reason she didn’t want his help. He was the ex, and she was projecting her disdain for her current ex on to him. In addition to being a bartender, Declan was an armchair psychologist. Came with the job.

“Fine,” Amy said. “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it.”

“I don’t mind at all.” He forced a smile.

Lifting, he walked the box across the lawn and into the house within a few seconds.

“Wow, you’re strong,” her little boy said. David, was it? “My dad can do that, too.”

“Thank you,” Amy said. “I guess you’re my new neighbor.”

“I am.” He then positioned the box out of the way, rubbed his hand and went back outside.

Amy was right behind him. “That was really all we…um…”

He ignored her, carrying in several boxes and chairs.

“Look, moving isn’t any fun. But hey, I might need help with the table.”

“I wish I could help,” Lou said repeatedly each time Declan passed him on the front porch.

He noticed that Moonbeam was keeping to herself, unpacking boxes while Declan and Amy did most of the lifting. She ignored him most of the time, apparently resigned to his help. They worked together as a team even if he did most of the heavier work. It would have been much harder without her.

By the end, he’d helped unload the moving truck, beds included.

“Thanks,” Lou said, hopping back into the driver’s side of the truck. “I got to get this back into the shop.”

“Thank you, Lou,” Amy said. “I owe you dinner.”

Lou drove off waving to them both.

“What about me?” Declan teased. “Do I get dinner?”

“Yes, if you want.” She studied the ground.

“Just a cold beer would do me fine.”

“I don’t have any beer.” She met his eyes and narrowed her own. “And don’t you work at a bar ?”

“Yeah, but the bar’s not here right now.” He laughed. “I’m kidding. You don’t owe me a thing, Amy.”

She tipped her head and considered him as if she could see all the ways he’d failed her years ago and came to a conclusion.

“Yes. I guess you’re right.”

Declan snorted. “Okay, then. Well, happy moving day!”

He waved and crossed the shared lawn into his house.

Bitterness, clearly, was still the order of the day.

He’d been seventeen years old and a complete idiot when he’d screwed things up with Amy, but she didn’t seem to want to cut him any slack.

Then again, she was projecting. Yeah, that was it.

Either way, he could be a good neighbor to his ex and her kids.

Usually, Declan didn’t like to over-involve himself in other people’s drama and lives.

He got enough of that at the bar, and though he was good at listening, he saw no reason to look for drama on his day off.

This was different. A single mom living right next door with her two children.

Before long, he suspected, she might not be alone, but until then he would keep an eye out.

Unclog any sinks and kill spiders, that sort of thing.

Toss around a ball with the boy. This was mostly a safe neighborhood, except for that time a bunch of teenagers broke into a vacant house down the street.

All they’d wanted was a place to party but by the end of the deal they’d done some property damage. Stupid kids.

Pizza for dinner tonight, Declan decided.

He loved pizza anytime he helped someone move.

He’d just finished helping his older brother, Finn, move out earlier this month.

Sure, he’d left Declan to pay the entire payment this month by himself, but he couldn’t be too upset.

Finn was happier than he’d ever been with his new fiancée.

At one time, Declan would have laid bets in Vegas that Finn would never again be in a serious relationship after his divorce.

So, he guessed it was entirely plausible that Amy would find herself married again before too long.

He remembered how important marriage had been to her at seventeen. Far more than it was to him.

And she was still attractive. Still curvy in all the right places. He’d seen her dimples only once today and that had been when talking to her children. It was also the only time her green eyes lit up.

Thanking God for modern food delivery apps, Declan tipped the driver and accepted his pizza. A reward for a job well done. He cracked open a cold beer he found in the cold cut drawer, settled everything on the table in front of the couch and switched on ESPN.

When his doorbell rang thirty minutes later, Declan thought it might be Amy, to apologize for agreeing she didn’t owe him anything. A simple thanks would have been nice but maybe ex-boyfriends who hadn’t wanted to get married right after high school didn’t qualify .

Declan swung open the door to find his father there instead. “Hey, Dec!”

“Come on in.” He waved him inside, peeking outside to see if Amy and the kids were still out there.

Only the boy, kicking around a soccer ball all alone.

“Slice of pizza?” Declan waved at the box.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

“I’m watching the recap.” Declan jutted his chin to the flat-screen.

Even if he’d been out of majors for years, Declan still enjoyed the sport of baseball.

And to be fair, it was about all he had in common with his father.

Whenever he dropped by, which was too often now that Finn had moved out, Declan talked stats.

If he didn’t, his father would start asking about his goals.

He insisted that Declan had walked away from his high school coaching position when he should have stuck it out and dealt with the fallout. Obviously Declan disagreed.

A coach for most of his life, Dan Sheridan was a master motivator. The man wouldn’t know the word quit if it came up and slapped him silly. It was a cool thing for the kids he currently coached in Little League, because if you wanted to believe his father, each one of them was the next Derek Jeter.

“You got new neighbors?” His father said, taking a slice.

“Yeah, Amy and her kids moved in next door. She and Rob are getting a divorce.”

“Ah, Amy. Heard about that. Sad situation.”

They watched the commentators for a few minutes and then the program cut away to a commercial.

“So,” his father said, right on cue. “Have you thought any more about joining me as coach on the Little League team? They could really use the inspiration from a former pro.”

Emphasis on former .

“Thought about it. It’s not going to fit into my plans at this time.”

“And those plans are…?”

Declan scrubbed a hand down his face. “Still formulating.”

“Declan,” his father sighed. “You are a great player and an even better teacher. Why are you wasting your God-given talent by bartending?”

“I’m not wasting anything. It happens that I’m good at listening to people’s troubles and serving them a cocktail.”

Not everyone could be a first-class mixologist, and Declan happened to believe the praise he got from his customers.

Best mojito I ever had; thanks for listening; here’s a hundred-dollar tip, you’re still cheaper than the therapist.

“There’s nothing wrong with hard work. I’m a working-class stiff and I like it.”

“I appreciate that, but you have a different kind of talent. If you don’t share with the world, it’s practically a sin.”

“A sin?”

Granted, these were new tactics on his Dad’s part. He must be getting desperate.

“Tell me. Other than listening to people’s troubles and mixing alcoholic drinks, are you contributing to society? Do you have a plan? A goal? Strategy to get there?”

Somebody shoot him now. With Finn now retired from the Olympics and running a boat charter business with his best friend, his father’s attentions had turned to Declan.

Even though it was coming up on two years since he’d left the Houston high school, Declan refused to talk about it.

Everyone in town knew the reason he’d left and so did his parents.

A difference of opinion with the boosters had gone way too far.

Declan decided everyone would be better off without him.

And though his father was plenty sympathetic when it all went down, by now he expected Declan to have moved on.

He took the job as bartender so he could think next steps. Sure, next steps were dragging but that was his business.

His father needed a new project and Declan looked like fresh and raw material. If he didn’t show his father a plan, this wouldn’t stop until he did.

“Okay.” Declan stood. “Look, I didn’t want to say anything to you yet but yes, I have a plan. I intend to contribute to society. Big-time.”

“Sounds wonderful!”

Here came the cheering section. It was time for Declan to lay it all out. He whipped out a napkin and grabbed a pen. Far too well, he remembered the younger years: days of charts and graphs and items to check off in the Sheridan house. Both he and Finn were raised on goals and charts.

“I haven’t had time to write it all down, but here’s the plan.” Declan made a graph of the month and slotted in sev eral days. “I’m going to be doing one good deed a day for Amy and her family. And here’s the first one—help her move in.”

Declan checked it off. “Done. Now, tomorrow, I intend to offer my lawn care services. God forbid that get out of control. I’ve got it.”

“Is this a joke ?” his father said. “I never understand your sense of humor.”

“Not a joke, unless you find something funny about helping a single mom who’s just moved into a new house and is probably going to need a lot of support.”

For once, he’d left his father speechless. “It’s honorable, sure, but just not quite what I had in mind.”

“Well, Dad, I know how much you love goals and plans. Now I have one. Make Amy’s life go a little bit easier. And I think it’s quite meaningful. Beautiful, even.” He quirked a brow.

Now Declan was just showing off. Daring his father to tell him this goal wasn’t “significant” enough.

Because he understood what his father wanted deep down.

He wanted Declan to decide he was too talented not to simply enjoy baseball from the sidelines or a recreational team.

He wanted Declan to try out for a minor league team and do what he’d been born to do.

But for years, Declan had believed that people were meant to do more than one thing.

With baseball, he’d been there, done that.

His sports career was over, and he had no regrets.

“Well.” Realizing he was beaten, at least for now, his father shook his head slowly. “If this is your goal…”

“Thanks, Dad.”