by C. A. Harms
“Shane?” I ask again, still staring at my sister from across my living room. She nods. “Him?” I point toward my living room wall that is closest to my asshole of a neighbor’s house. “As in the jerk, Mr. Cranky Pants, scowl on his face like all the time,” my brows crease with confusion, “that man?”
“Yep.” She pops the P at the end of the word, her smile widening even more.
“Hm.” I have no words, because every one I have spoken in regards to him has been awful and harsh. Though in my defense he has deserved every single one of them. “He colored a picture with Whitney while we talked about you.”
“Me?” My stomach tenses, and I feel like my heart lurches forward, smacking against my breastbone. “Why me?”
With a shrug, she moves toward the kitchen, and I hurry behind her. I watch as she places her glass in the sink and continues to busy herself, ignoring the fact that I am standing behind her, still in need of more details.
“Hello?”
Still nothing.
“I’m waiting.” I watch as her shoulders shake, indicating she is laughing and loving this form of torture. “Jackie!” I squawk and shove her shoulder from behind.
“Oh my God!” Spinning around, she holds out her hands in defense. “Stop, I’ll talk.”
Stepping back, I cross my arms over my chest and wait, tapping my foot for emphasis. After she rolls her eyes, she leans back and drops her hands to her sides. “First, when I saw him enter the lobby stating that he was the manager, I figured I was about to meet the so-called ass of a neighbor for real. I’d already formed my opinion of him based on all the stories you’ve shared.”
“And the night at the bar.”
“Okay, yes, then too. So I went in with attitude.” Who is she kidding? She always has attitude; it is in our blood, I swear to it. “But when he figured out who I was, things shifted.”
“How?”
“I’m getting to that.” Well, then, get there faster.
“My attitude only managed to make him curious, and before I knew what was happening, we were talking about his interactions with you then the one with Janie.” Of course he’d talk about my little sister. “He doesn’t even remember that night, by the way.”
“Sure.” His eyes were so full of excitement as Janie gave him an earful.
“He didn’t offer many details about what his life entails, but from what he did say, I am able to gather that he works two jobs and carries a lot of stress on his shoulders with personal matters. He says he owes you an apology, but between you and me,” she pauses, and a teasing gleam fills her eyes, “I get this feeling he enjoys getting you worked up. He said you were a feisty woman.”
“You sure he’s not referring to Janie?” Immediately, I regret the whiny tone of my voice and ignore the flare of interest in Jackie’s eyes.
“Oh no, he definitely meant you.”
Part of me wants to interrogate her and ask for more, but I understand what that means. It would be like opening up the flood gates. The questions and teasing would come at me like rapid fire, followed by the urgency to fix me up, and when Jackie sets a goal, she is a constant pain in the ass until she gets her way.
***
What in the hell am I doing?
I’ve asked myself this very thing at least ten times since I left my house. Prior to that, it was once every ten minutes while I convinced myself that my actions aren’t insane.
Now here I stand on my neighbor’s front porch, merely inches from his front door while holding a covered dish in my hands. Cheesecake, to be exact, my grandmother’s recipe. Everyone that has tasted it has raved about it for days.
This is a dumb idea.
Convincing myself that it is a ridiculous move on my part, I step back and start to turn away when the front door opens and someone clears their throat. What do I do? I freeze.
“Can I help you?”
Oh shit, I know that sleepy tone. I did it again. I somehow woke the dragon, and the moment I turn around, he is going to ignite; I just know it.
“Did you place a bomb somewhere and now you’re fleeing the scene?”
“No.” Looking back over my shoulder, I am met with a sight that makes my pulse quicken. Shirtless, thick, solid shoulders, chest, and arms. My God, the man is built to perfection. Even his tattoos are perfectly placed.
“So?”
My gaze shifts to his, and I find him smirking knowingly. “Here.” My nerves are raging through me uncontrollably as I hold out the dish.
“And what’s this?” He doesn’t even attempt to take it, only watches me with curiosity and humor.
“It’s a peace offering.” I push it further toward him. “My grandmother’s cheesecake, she’s somewhat of a genius when it comes to desserts.” Why am I rambling? “And the smaller container is a cherry glaze. I wasn’t sure how you felt about cherries, and I didn’t want to ruin the cake, so I decided to still make it too but bring it separately.” What the hell is wrong with me? I blame the pulsating muscle in his bicep and the V at his waist. That V alone is like swimming in a sea of the best orgasmic aftermath.
I could get lost there in the spot, for days, and be completely happy and content.
Another clearing of a throat and I am instantly brought back to the moment of uncomfortable silence. Feeling my cheeks redden from being caught checking him out, I try my best to recover from the awkwardness I have created.
“Do you hate cheesecake or something?”
“No.” He tries not to smile, and I only grow more uncomfortable. I am fighting the urge to bolt. This is absurd. Why am I acting like a teenage girl standing in front of the star quarterback? He is just a guy. A very yummy guy, but still a guy.
“So?” I wiggle the dish, hoping he gets the hint and takes it. I want this torturous moment to just end.
“Am I gonna wake up tomorrow feeling like death or will the effects hit me while I’m slinging drinks at Mulligans tonight?”
I feel my nose and eyes wrinkle with confusion as he laughs.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” Each second I spend in his presence makes my mind feel even more hazy.
“I figured since I’m the devil,” he tosses the words I have spoken many times back at me and I start to squirm, “the hellish neighbor with a two by four up his ass, this is your way of seeking revenge. Offering me sweets only to have me suffer later when it’s too late to realize you’ve added some secret ingredient. Ex-Lax maybe?”
“Are you serious?” I shift the weight of my body from one foot to the next. “You can’t be.”
He says nothing to ease my mind. But his smile widens, and instantly I understand that he is tormenting me for his pure enjoyment.
“Wow,” I mumble before taking a step back. Everything feels a little clearer. “Why in the hell did I ever listen to my sister? You are by far the most ridiculous, egotistical, self-centered—” The rest is more of a mumbled rant as I take one more step and then another. “Ya know what? I give up.” Bending at the waist, I set the container on the nearest step before turning around and descending the two steps. I pause on my driveway to look back at him. “Eat it or don’t, I couldn’t care less. I quit. You can hate me or,” she waves her hand in the air with frustration, “hell, I don’t give a shit. Just know that you are the one making this difficult, not me. You want to be enemies, fine, whatever. I am so over it.”
Chapter Eleven
Shane
She walks off swinging her ass a little more than the calm version of herself. I find it pleasantly distracting.
I look down at the cake she left behind and then shift my gaze in her direction once more just as she disappears around the side of the house. My heart plummets.
“Fuck,” I mumble before my feet begin to move, and I clear my porch in three long strides. “Wait up.” Rounding the corner, I see her yanking open her screen door with a vigorous pull. “Janelle!” At the sound of her name, her shoulders jerk in surprise. “Come on, hold on a minute.”
/> “It’s fine.” She waves her hand over her shoulder, refusing to turn around to look at me.
“You’re right, I am an asshole.” Fuck, I feel like a complete dick. “I like cheesecake—no, actually, I love it. I can’t remember the last time I had anything homemade.” I watch as her shoulders sag and she hangs her head. Immediately, I consider reaching out and turning her body so I can see her face, but honestly I’m a little afraid she may punch me. Or, worse, kick me in the nuts, not that I don’t deserve both.
“I’m sorry.” The words sour my stomach. I’ve lived in such a state of anger and dismissal over the last few years that I rarely consider anyone else’s feelings. Well, any person other than my mother. All I ever think about is what she would want, need, and if she could tell me, love. I have forgotten about anything else. It has been a long time since I’ve done anything for myself.
Slowly Janelle turns around, and the very instant her eyes lock on mine, I feel a knot form in my stomach. The anger from earlier has been replaced with one of sadness.
“Hey.” No longer caring if she inflicts pain on me, I move in closer and touch her arm.
“I’m fine.” Averting her gaze, she takes in a deep breath. “These have nothing to do with you.” She points to the frustrated tears in her eyes.
Unable to hide my smile, I slouch just enough to look into her eyes, and she waves me off, a grin pulling at her lips too. “Let me guess. This,” she waves her hand in front of her face, “gives you a real ego boost, doesn’t it?”
“No, actually it makes me feel like an asshole, or maybe the devil.” When her eyes widen, I chuckle. “Truth is, knowing I’ve upset you sucks,” and it shouldn’t. “Honestly, though, I’m not sure yet why it bothers me so much.”
She seems confused, and if I knew what in the hell was happening I would attempt to explain. Problem is, I don’t have a clue.
“Why don’t we start over?” Sliding my palm over her arm and down, I reach her hand, and instead of releasing it, I hook her fingers with my own. “I happen to have this cheesecake that looks pretty damn good.” Again she looks at the ground, avoiding my stare.
Fucking adorable.
“I was thinking maybe we could sit down, talk, and have a piece.” I wait for the panic to hit, but it never comes. I wait for the regret to surge throughout me, making me recant the offer, but again nothing. There is only excitement and maybe hope that she’ll say yes.
“I can’t.” Her words feel like a kick in the stomach. “I shouldn’t.”
“Which is it? You can’t or you shouldn’t?”
I try not to look at her chest when she takes in a deep breath, but the way her tits lift in the small shirt she is wearing is distracting. She really is the perfect mix of innocent and sexy, like a schoolteacher with a side of naughty hidden someplace safe.
I feel my dick begin to thicken with the vision of her in a skimpy lacy outfit, her hair down, hanging loose around her shoulders. An alluring look in her eyes as she looks over my body hungrily, almost like she did when I first opened my door only minutes ago.
“Shouldn’t,” she finally replies, and I hook her fingers a little tighter as I take a step back.
“Life is full of things we shouldn’t do, but what fun would it be if we choose to ignore the impulse?” I’m still blown away with my actions. I am the king of avoidance. I don’t do shit like this; I ignore every impulse I feel, but here I am trying to persuade her to do the opposite.
Janelle is hesitant at first, digging her feet in, refusing to follow me, so I grow a little more determined. “I promise I’ll be nice.” She narrows her eyes, pressing her lips in a tight line. I can tell she wants to smile, but she fights it hard. “I’ll even cut the cake and serve you.”
“How gentlemanly of you.” Finally she grins, but not too wide, more of a satisfied smirk.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but I have not always been the rude ass that I’ve been since you moved in.”
“Are you trying to tell me that I bring out that side of you?”
Damn, she is insanely tempting. Beautiful, sassy, and those eyes…fuck me, they are gorgeous.
Without saying anything more, I take another step back and pull lightly, but this time she comes with ease. Guiding her toward my porch, I step aside and lead her up the stairs. I won’t lie, as she passes I check out her ass and smile to myself when I’m engulfed with the sweet smell of vanilla and maybe strawberries. I close my eyes for a brief second and breathe her in before following close behind.
Bending down, I snatch up the pan as I pass and continue to usher her toward my front door. She stops, almost like she’s waiting for me to invite her in, and suddenly I’m hit with the reality of what she will find after entering.
Never once have I worried of what someone would think about my place. Until now, and yes, that too is fucking with my head, hard.
“It’s a mess.” That is an understatement. “Actually, it’s a fucking wreck.”
Janelle crosses her arms over her chest and stares at me. “Is this your way of withdrawing your invite, because if it is—”
“Not at all.” How do you tell a girl like Janelle that you can’t afford to furnish your place because every spare penny you have is used to pay for your mom’s permanent stay in a nursing home? “I just want to warn you the place is—” Before I can finish the sentence, she is pushing through my door, and my heart races in fear.
Taking in one deep breath, I step in after her and find my chest is only inches from her back. I feel the urge to move in closer, to feel her body against my own, but I hold back. I wait quietly, watching as she looks around the near-empty space. “It’s a mirror image of my layout.”
“Yeah,” my throat feels tight, “they’re all the same, the entire block. Some with more bedrooms than others, but pretty much the same.”
She nods, taking another step in deeper to my living room and looking toward the kitchen. Suddenly I feel so small next to her, and I find I hate that feeling.
Maybe this was a mistake.
Until she turns around and smiles at me. I swear I feel that smile throughout every single cell of my body.
“I love older furniture. It has so much character.” I slowly let out the breath I was holding in. “I never would have imagined you were a guy that’d be into antiques.”
“A lot of it was my mother’s.” Shrugging, I feel okay offering that bit of information without giving away too much.
“Ahh, the ultimate bachelor.” Her eyes dance with amusement. If only she knew the truth, she wouldn’t be smiling at me the way she is now. I like her smile; it does things to me, things I hadn’t realized I was missing out on until now.
I allow myself to accept the fact that I want to do whatever it takes to keep that feeling, and if I can, I want to keep it with her.
“So, about that cake…” I need a distraction. Something to occupy my thoughts before I do something stupid like kiss her.
Chapter Twelve
Janelle
“What are you smiling at?” I quickly attempt to tuck my chin to my chest to hide my smile. I’m not sure exactly why, considering he’s already noticed. “And that?” I look up before I can stop myself and meet his gaze. Dark eyes watching me close with an unreadable emotion etched within them. Like I am a puzzle he is trying to solve but there’s a missing piece. ”You try to hide yourself, but it’s too late every single time.”
“It’s a curse.” He seems confused, and I feel embarrassment all over again. “The Pearson curse,” I continue on, “we embarrass easily, shy away from awkward situations, then pretend they didn’t happen. Avoidance, so people forget. Well, not all of us girls got it.”
“No?”
“Janie is most definitely headstrong and never attempts to hide what she’s feeling. It’s hard to handle at times, but then again that’s just who she is.”
“And that would be the younger sister?” I nod, feeling my stomach begin to sour, and the cake remaining on m
y plate no longer seems so appealing.
“Yes,” I choke out past the nervousness I feel building in my chest and rising to my throat. “You’ve met.”
“So I’ve heard.” Scooting forward, he places his empty plate on the corner of the table that separates us before he continues. “I don’t remember that.”
“Hmm.” It is falling from my lips before my thoughts register it.
“What’s hmm mean?”
There is no humor in his question. He watches and waits for an explanation. I guess there is no way out of this embarrassing situation.
“From the interaction between the two of you at Mulligans last week, I assume she’d be someone you wouldn’t forget easily.” Irritation sets in when I feel the jealousy begin to rise, and I’m confident he can see it, too. Something shifts in his eyes, a softness as he leans in a little closer and places his elbow on the table. In doing so, his upper body moves in more.
“Why do I get the feeling if that were true it would bother you?” Shane’s voice drops low, and he licks along his lower lip, watching me with purpose.
Getting up and straddling him on his chair right now would be so wrong, but damn it, I can almost see it taking place in my mind.
“I don’t have a clue as to what you are referring to.” Oh please, Janelle, was that supposed to be believable?
“You don’t lie well, Janelle.” My heart begins to race. “It shows in your eyes.” He leans in even more. “The instant worry lines that form right here.” He reaches out to trace his fingertip across my forehead, and I fight a shiver that rolls through my body. Slowly he traces over the lines before moving along my temple and down lower to trace my jaw.
Somewhere along the way, I close my eyes and concentrate only on the way his touch feels against my skin. It is so soft, so gentle that it’s almost nonexistent, but it’s also more powerful than any other touch I have ever felt before.
“You are beautiful.” My eyes pop open and meet his. He seems even closer now, his gaze looking over my face, taking in my eyes, my lips, before he licks along his lower lip once more. Then he locks eyes with me before continuing on. “I’m not interested in your sister.” I try not to make it obvious that I was holding my breath as I slowly release it between my parted lips.