Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“Then you’re probably being eaten alive,” she said. “The mosquitoes are awful out here at night.”
I shrugged. “I have all the lights off, so they haven’t bothered me much.”
“How’s Luna?”
“She’s fine. It was a very mild reaction—she just needed an antihistamine.”
“Oh, good,” she said, sounding relieved. “I was worried when you didn’t come back.”
“The antihistamine makes her sleepy, so we ended up just ordering pizza and watching a movie. They both fell asleep on the couch without brushing their teeth—don’t tell their mother—and I had to carry them both to bed.”
She mimed zipping her lips.
“But they were sad about missing the party. I had to promise them we’d go swimming right after church tomorrow.”
“Sounds like fun. Would you like to sit over here?” she asked, gesturing toward the chairs on her patio.
My first instinct was to say no—as much as I wanted to deny it, I was attracted to her, and spending time together out here in the dark seemed like a bad idea.
But then I reconsidered—maybe by getting to know her better, I could defuse the tension, stomp out the spark. Every word out of her mouth would remind me of how young she was, right? For fuck’s sake, she was out here drinking a chocolate milkshake. And I didn’t want her to think I was an asshole, especially after she’d heard me yelling at Naomi on the phone. We’d have to live next door to each other for a while. Better to be friendly.
I glanced behind me—I’d be able to hear the girls through the screen if they called out. Their bedroom window was also open above us. “Sure. I’m going to grab another beer. Can I bring you one?”
She hesitated, and for a second I panicked.
“Wait—you’re old enough to drink, right?”
She laughed. “Yes.”
“I saw the milkshake and I wasn’t sure.”
“Nope—that’s just my chocolate Frosty from yesterday. Those things are my favorite, but this one is definitely past its prime. I’ll take you up on the beer, thanks. And no worries, I’m twenty-two.”
Fuck. Twenty-two.
“Be right back.” Feeling like I was contributing to the delinquency of a minor anyway, I went through the sliding door into my house, set my empty bottle on the counter, and swiped two cold ones from the fridge. My sister had brought a six-pack over for Justin and me earlier, but we hadn’t touched it.
Before going back outside, I set the bottles down and crept up the stairs to peek into the girls’ bedroom—both of them were sound asleep. After a quick check to make sure they were both still breathing, I snuck back down the stairs as silently as I could.
But before I went back to the patio, I ducked into the downstairs bathroom, switched on the light, and checked my reflection. Immediately I sort of wished I hadn’t, because my hair looked grayer and my forehead more wrinkled than I remembered. I tried to relax my facial muscles. I fussed with my hair. I tucked in my plain white T-shirt.
Then I frowned at the glass. What the fuck was I doing?
I reminded myself again that she was way too young for me, even if I was the kind of guy who’d mess around with a woman he’d have to see coming and going all the time—which I wasn’t. And the last thing I needed was an awkward situation when I’d moved here for a fresh start. That meant keeping my hands to myself.
Even if she was the prettiest woman I’d seen in a long, long time.
Even if the memory of her bare skin would taunt me every time I closed my eyes.
Even if I’d frantically jerked off while thinking about her in the shower earlier—which would not happen again.
I untucked my shirt again, turned off the light, grabbed the two beers, and went back outside. Over on her patio, the milkshake was gone and she was setting a plate on the little table with a maple bacon cupcake on it.
“I only had one of these, but it’s yours if you want it,” she said, dropping into one of the chairs.
“I had one earlier.” I sat in the other chair and popped the caps off both bottles.
“Verdict, please. Do you agree with your girls that bacon does not belong on a cupcake?”
“No. It was fucking delicious.” I handed her a beer. “Here you go. It’s no chocolate Frosty, but it’s cold and wet.”
She laughed. “Thanks.” Clinking her bottle against mine, she said, “To new neighbors.”
I drank when she did, trying not to stare at her lips on the bottle.
Setting her beer on the table, she stretched out her legs, pointing and flexing her bare feet. “High heels,” she said with a sigh. “They look good, but they hurt like a bitch.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but she had looked good in those heels and those jeans and that tiny little top. From the moment I’d seen her walk into the party, I’d been unable to think straight, and not just because I was scared she could read my mind about the whole getting off to her in the shower thing.