Free Follow Me (Corrupted Hearts) by Tiffany Snow

legs. “Let’s watch that first.”
    “But I watch it last,” I said. “Not first.”
    “Does it matter?”
    I hesitated. “It’s just . . . how I do it.”
    “Okay, that’s fine,” she said, backing down. “It’s your thing so we’ll watch however you want.”
    She was making me feel crazy OCD again, but obviously didn’t want to rock the boat since she was now a semipermanent houseguest.
    There was a loud thump outside, interrupting our conversation.
    “What was that?” I asked, setting down my plate.
    “Probably your new neighbor,” Mia said.
    “I have a new neighbor?” I headed for the door as another thump sounded.
    “Yeah. They moved in this afternoon. A couple of moving guys, but I didn’t see who it was.”
    Pulling aside the curtains in the front window, I peered outside. The duplex next door had been empty for a couple of months. A new neighbor would be nice, so long as they didn’t play music too loud or smoke.
    I couldn’t see who it was, but could see a man bent over behind a sofa, apparently trying to move it himself. Hurriedly, I opened the door.
    “Here, let me help you,” I said. He was going to hurt himself. I rushed forward to grab the other side of the sofa, then realized I’d vastly underestimated how heavy it was.
    A low chuckle made me look up from where I was straining to lift the furniture, and I forgot how to breathe.
    The man on the other end of the sofa was probably the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. No. Scratch that. He was definitely the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Wavy black hair and crystal-blue eyes like the best incarnation of Superman ever. Dimples creased his cheeks as he gave me a thousand-watt, whiter-than-white, perfectly-straight-teeth smile.
    His wide shoulders and muscled arms were giving the cotton of his black T-shirt a run for its money as it stretched to accommodate his body. I couldn’t see the rest of him because of the couch, but I had no doubt he was as perfect below the waist as he was above it.
    That sent my thoughts spiraling in a direction straight out of the racier Harlequins that I kept meaning to send to Grandma. And I would send them . . . eventually. Just as soon as I finished Love’s Pure Delight .
    “I’m Clark,” Superman said, reaching a hand across the sofa toward me.
    “No way,” I murmured. His eyes were so blue—
    “What was that?”
    I made myself blink, breaking the spell of his amazing eyes. “Nothing,” I said, thrusting out my hand. “I’m China.”
    “China?” His hand engulfed mine.
    “Yeah.” I shrugged. “My parents met there. It’s better than being named Beijing .”
    Clark laughed and I was mesmerized—a throaty chuckle that made me want to record it just so I could hear it over and over.
    “Good to meet you, China.”
    He looked down and I realized I was still holding his hand. I snatched it away, my face burning.
    “So, yeah, I came out to help you,” I said, trying to act natural, or at least what passed as natural for me. “Because you, ah, looked like you, ah, needed help.”
    “No offense, China, but I’m guessing this couch weighs nearly three times what you do. I appreciate the offer, but I can get it. It’s just a little awkward.” He smiled again.
    “I’m Mia.”
    She popped over my shoulder, wearing a brilliant smile, her long blonde hair blowing softly in the breeze. Some aunt I was—I’d completely forgotten her presence once I’d seen Superman.
    “Hi, Mia.” Clark glanced between the two of us. “Are you sisters?”
    “I’m her niece,” Mia said. “I’m here visiting for a few months. So you’re moving in next door?”
    I wanted to shush her for being so nosy, but I was dying to know, too, so I didn’t say anything.
    “Yeah, I closed on the lease a few days ago,” he said. “My work relocated me here from Huntsville.”
    “Alabama?” I asked.
    “The very one.”
    “So what do you do?” Mia asked. “Don’t tell me . . . you’re a