Neighbors were a pain in the ass.

Especially neighbors who made as much noise as possible at the crack of dawn. Did no one have consideration for their fellow man anymore? She wasn't asking for much, dammit. Just a little common courtesy.

Bayleigh Scott rolled toward her nightstand to look at the old fashioned alarm clock with the giant hands and noticed it was just shy of 6am. She groaned and pulled the pillow over her head, trying desperately to block out the grinding noise from what sounded like a fleet of semis outside her window. She'd closed her shop at ten the night before but hadn't gotten home until after one because she'd been doing inventory. Not even five full hours of sleep. And she had to be back to open at ten since her assistant was out sick.

When the pillow failed to have the effect she was looking for, she tossed it across the room and felt the slow flush of anger work through her body.

"Who the hell do these people think they are?" she muttered, throwing back the covers and stomping to the bay window in her bedroom.

She could only see the back deck of the house next door from her window, and she scowled as she noted the ferns already hanging from baskets on the porch, the dimmed sconces attached to the posts giving her a good view in the darkness.

"Making yourself right at home, aren't you?"

She let the curtain drop and stomped through the house, tripping over the edge of the rug and bumping her shin against the table she had at the end of the couch. The coffeepot beckoned, so she punched the button to start her morning caffeine as she made her way to the kitchen window. She had the perfect view of the neighbor's front yard.

Bayleigh winced as the screech of the truck lift going up and down assaulted her ears. It wasn't like the noise would bother anyone else. Most of her neighbors turned their hearing aids off after eight o'clock and didn't turn them back on until the sun rose. There was no way her new neighbors were another little retired couple like everyone else on the street. They were probably party animals or reprobates. Maybe both.

Powerful lights were set up so they could unload the truck that was backed into the driveway, but all she could see was the shadows of men as they unloaded the furniture. They didn't even need that stupid lift. They were just being lazy. There was no reason for the truck to be on at all.

Muttered curses propelled her out the front door before common sense could take hold. She never did well on little sleep and no caffeine. It wasn't her fault. She liked to think of it as a medical condition. She'd just explain politely about the noise, and surely they would take care of things from there. It was the decent thing to do.

The cool October air slapped against her skin, reminding her she was only wearing the cotton boxers and tank top she'd slept in. Chills raced across her skin and she tripped over the hose that ran across her sidewalk. She'd forgotten to roll it back up after watering her flowerbeds the previous morning.

She paused for a moment, wondering if she'd made a mistake when she felt three sets of eyes look in her direction. The sudden stillness of the night was unnerving. She couldn't see the two men in the shadows clearly, but she got a heck of a glimpse of the man standing closest to her. The Devil in disguise. The sudden urge to cross herself had her squeezing her fingers into tight fists. She wasn't even Catholic for Pete's sake.

His scowl was black and menacing and he narrowed his eyes at her in warning, automatically putting her back up. She wasn't going to be intimidated by the likes of him. At least not by much.

Bayleigh straightened her shoulders and marched across the tiny patch of grass that separated the two houses. She climbed into the cab of the big white truck, the cracked seats scratchy against the backs of her legs, and turned off the ignition before taking the key. She jumped out of the truck and watched warily as the three men gathered close, their arms crossed over their bare chests and various looks of surprise pasted on their faces. Maybe Satan was having a convention, because surely all three of these men were fallen angels of the worst kind, or hardened criminals at best.

They were muscled and bare–chested, and their jeans hung low on narrowed hips. It was obvious they were related, and her gaze passed over them all quickly. But she couldn't seem to take her eyes off the one in the center—the one who'd made her lose her common sense with just one scowl. There was something in his eyes that had her taking a step back before she remembered she was standing in the middle of a safe neighborhood. She wouldn't be intimidated on her own property. She looked down and took a quick step back so she was actually on her own property, and crossed her arms over her chest, daring him to say anything.

The Devil's dark hair was longer than she liked on a man, almost to his shoulders, and his eyes were as black as coal. Probably because he'd been hauling it in hell before he'd decided to move to Fort Worth, Texas. A short beard covered his face and a wicked looking tattoo swirled over his shoulder and part of the way down his arm. His chest was scarred, and she couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened to him to cause such marks. Her gaze lowered, following the black smattering of hair that disappeared beneath his jeans, and all rational thought left her head as she noticed the sizable bulge behind his zipper.