My Twin Sister’s Extremely Famous and Incredibly Hot Neighbor

I gape at Dustin Sawyer, the famous movie star. “You cook?”

He smiles and hooks his thumbs in his belt loops. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. And I’m willing to bet there’s a lot I don’t know about you as well.” His voice is warm and low, and it wraps around me like a fuzzy blanket. Is he flirting with me? And do I want him to?

I glance at the bowl of rice sitting on the counter. I need that phone. Jera’s going to text me. Plus, a home-cooked meal sounds really great. I usually eat my meals from a box. I’m quite fond of the mac and cheese variety. I didn’t see any box meals when I was searching through Jera’s cupboard. And now I can’t even order Door Dash. I waffle for a moment before I make a rash decision. “All right.”

Dustin smiles at me and I think I’m going to melt into a puddle on the floor. Wow. How do regular people handle being around this man? I’m going to start hyperventilating.

“Great,” he says, his smile widening. I think he knows what he’s doing to me. “Come over at seven.”

I nod because I can’t form a complete sentence. Dustin leaves, and Squint does a little potty dance before he scratches at the back door. I welcome the distraction and let him out to do his business.

As Squint runs around the backyard, I search Jera’s drawers for her scissors so I can clip off the tags from the swimsuit because they’re digging into my armpits. I find the scissors in the fifth drawer I open.

I take a swim since I’m dressed for it. The water is warm, not a cloud in the sky, and I begin to relax. I love Jera’s pools, and her house is three levels of amazing. I swim for about an hour as Squint takes a nap in the sun.

After I rinse off and dress in a cute pink top and white shorts from Jera’s closet, I explore her house. On the coffee table in the living room, I find the credit card my sister left for me. She left a note as well. It says:

Dear Mackenzie, You can go to any art store. LA has a lot of them. Get all the supplies you want. I’ll text you my driver’s number so you can have him take you.

Well, that’s just perfect. All my new art supplies are a phone call away, and I can’t even get to them. I frown as I go to the kitchen to stare at the bowl sitting on the counter. How am I going to pull off being my sister without her help? She never checks her email. I have no idea what her phone number is. I don’t know the name of the spa where she’s at. I look at the ceiling and pray Dustin can fix my phone tonight.

To get my mind off the predicament I’m in, I open my suitcase and start setting up my filming equipment. I grab my stuff and go into what I assume is a library, due to all the books on the shelves. My sister doesn’t read much (unless you count fashion magazines) so I have no idea why she has so many books. I figure this room isn’t used, so it’s a great place for me to film my watercolor classes.

By the time I’m done setting up my camera and tripod, it’s time for me to go next door. I pick up Squint and tuck him into his carrying case. He fits so nicely in there, and he likes going on outings with me. I jokingly call him my emotional support animal, but I don’t know how much of a joke it is. He keeps my anxiety down. Hopefully, Dustin doesn’t mind.

I grab the bowl of rice with my poor phone and leave. As I walk down the long driveway to the front gate, I realize why Dustin jumped the fence. It’s a much longer walk than it looks. I finally get to the front of Jera’s gate, but there’s no sidewalk, so I have to walk beside the intimidating iron fence that keeps out creepers. Dustin’s gate has a keypad and a video screen. I press the call button and a minute later he appears on the screen. “Hey,” he says when he sees me. “I’ll buzz you through.”

The door clicks open and I go in. I walk up his enormous driveway. Dustin’s house looks like it was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. It’s modern, with a balcony that juts out in a way you wouldn’t think was possible because of physics. It looks cool, though, and I wonder what the view is like from there.

He pulls the door open before I can ring the bell. He’s wearing a light blue dress shirt with khaki pants and a black apron. He smiles at me, and my heart does a backflip. “You came.”

“You didn’t think I’d come?”

He shrugs. “Not really. Come in.”

That’s weird. Why did he think I’d stand him up? “Can I bring Squint in? He’s house trained and doesn’t bark a lot.” I motion to my dog carrier.

“Sure.” He chuckles. “Cute name.”

“Do you have any pets?” I ask as I walk into the foyer and set Squint on his hard wood floor. A grand staircase curves up to the second floor. A large painting hangs on the wall, and a skylight keeps the foyer bright.

Dustin crouches down and scratches under Squint’s chin. “No, I’ve never had time to take care of one.”

The way he said it made me sad. “You work that much?”

He stands and takes the bowl of rice from me. “I’ve been lucky to have work my whole life. This business can be brutal. But of course, you know that.”

He pulls a Ziploc from his apron pocket and fishes my phone out of the rice. “I read on the internet that silicone packets work better than rice. And to draw out the most moisture, it needs to be sealed.” He slips my phone inside the Ziploc full of packets.

I stare at the baggie. It had to have twenty silicone packets in it. “Where did you get all those?”

“They come with a lot of products. Like shoes and stuff.”

I nod. “I know, but I just throw them away. You save them?”

He shrugs. “I don’t usually, but when I read that silicone packets are best, I went looking for some. I had quite a few just in with various things.”

I blink and try to process what he said. “So, you searched your house for those little silicone packets? For me?”

“Yeah. It was no big deal.”

It may not have been a big deal to him, but it meant a lot to me. It must have taken him forever to find twenty of those packets. I walk with him into the kitchen where something smells amazing. “What are you making? My mouth is watering already.”

“Chicken alfredo. I hope pasta is okay. I googled and the internet says you don’t have any food allergies.” He sets the Ziploc on the counter, then lifts a lid and stirs a creamy sauce.

“Pasta is my favorite.”

He smiles. “Good. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to eat it.”

I give him a puzzled look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You know, all the carbs. I normally avoid them, but I’m between gigs.”

Oh. I hadn’t even considered Jera might be on a diet. Well, I wasn’t going to starve myself for a week. The fake Jera was just going to have to splurge. “Me too. I’m between gigs. I’m not counting carbs until my next job.”

“Do you have something in the works?” He glances at me and lifts one eyebrow.

I had no idea. “Maybe. I can’t talk about it yet.” That sounded like a safe answer.

“I get it. Good luck.” He takes the sauce off the burner and turns the knob. He plates the pasta, chicken, and tops it with the alfredo. When he sprinkles on some chopped parsley my mouth falls open.

“You really like to cook, don’t you?”

He nods as he finishes up with the plates. “My parents were gone a lot when I was a kid.”

“So you had to learn to cook in order to eat?” That was so sad! I felt so bad for him.

He laughs. “No. We had a cook. Her name was Elise, and she was fresh out of cooking school. I had a major crush on her.” Dustin smiles and gives me a wink.

I nudge his arm and my pulse jumps. He’s flirting with me again, and I’m not going to lie. I like the way it makes my insides all fluttery.

“So, you learned how to cook from Elise?”

“She taught me a lot. And I follow a few YouTube channels.” He carries the plates into the dining room where the table is set for two. Squint follows us, sniffing the floor before curling up in the corner. A pillar candle flickers, and fresh cut flowers are in a vase. Did he order flowers just for me?

I point to them. “You didn’t really think I’d stand you up. Look at all the trouble you went through.”

Dustin pulls out my chair and I sit, feeling like I’m suddenly at a fancy restaurant and I didn’t dress up enough. He sits next to me and leans close. “Do you want me to be honest?”

“Of course.” A pang of guilt shoots through my chest. I shouldn’t demand honesty from him when I wasn’t giving him the same courtesy.

“I can’t believe you’re here. I never thought you’d set foot in my house again.”