Miracle no one had called the cops to report that some random chick kept doing drive-bys in their peaceful neighborhood. Then again, maybe no one had noticed. Kayla Martinez hoped for the latter. Casing Nico LaCosta’s house like a crack addict in need of a quick fix topped her list of most embarrassing moments. Getting arrested for said behavior would definitely screw up her plans. Kayla hunched in the driver’s seat of her old, beat-up Nissan. She cut the engine, mumbled under her breath to please let it start again if she needed to make a quick escape. The parking spot offered an unobstructed view of Nico’s house. And his bare chest. The light in his kitchen–the one without blinds–illuminated like a guiding light that directed her eyes straight to his mouthwatering bod. The older neighborhoods had colossal trees. Thick and bushy, they provided excellent coverage for a peeping Tom like Kayla. In her defense, this wasn’t a creepy habit. Okay, spying on Nico through his windows looked pretty bad.
