Renee hurried back to her bedroom, where she should have stayed. Instead of trying to go back to sleep, she climbed under the covers and opened her iPad to continue reading the contemporary fiction novel she’d started a couple of days ago.
After plugging earbuds into her phone, she turned on the rain app and settled in to read. But the words swam before her eyes, turning to gibberish as she recalled Clive’s tight butt and his silly little dance.
His moves weren’t too bad—not bad at all. Sexy, actually. With a body like that, what would his moves be like in bed?
“Renee, what is wrong with you!” she yelled, sinking lower under the covers.
She was disgusted with herself. The man was a nuisance. Not someone to fantasize about. She resumed reading.
A few hours later, she woke with a start. Darn it, she’d fallen asleep.
Yawning, Renee removed the earbuds and only heard quiet. The time on the tablet said four twenty-seven. They must have finally left. She fixed the pillows under her head and settled more comfortably in bed.
One of these days, she was going to call the cops and break up Clive’s little late-night soiree.
What a night.
Clive had been too tired to clean up last night, so that was his job today, now that he’d finally gotten out of bed at eleven—much later than his norm.
He surveyed the damage and shook his head but smiled. He loved spending time with his friends, but the cleanup sucked.
“Time to get to work,” he muttered.
He gathered up the beer and soda cans all over the deck and tossed the trash in a bin. He cleaned the grill, swept the deck, and then sauntered back inside.
His daughter and granddaughter had already left for their Saturday outing. Because of Chelsea’s hectic schedule during the week, she always planned weekend activities for her and Margie, so that meant he had the place to himself for most of the day.
He walked toward the front door and Samson, who’d been relaxing in the hallway staring at the door, perked up.
“Hey guy, want to check the mail with me?”
Samson barked and jumped up, following him outside.
Just his rotten luck, Miss Joseph from next door was walking back from checking her mailbox, too. He almost went back into the house but refused to let this woman’s sourpuss attitude dictate his behavior. She glared at him as he made his way down the driveway.
“Good morning!” Clive said cheerily and added a wave, just to annoy her.
She simply stared at him. Samson barked, wagged his tail, and started toward her yard, but Clive whistled at him.
“No, boy, come on, Samson.” He patted his thigh and the dog did a U-turn and followed behind him.
He’d picked up the mail and was on his way back up the walk when he realized Renee hadn’t moved. His eyes flicked over her attire—denim capris that emphasized her hourglass figure, platform heels that gave the illusion of longer legs, and a white sleeveless top that dipped a little low in the front and showed off the swell of her breasts. With difficulty, he dragged his gaze higher. The only thing marring the delectable package was the frown on her face.
“Do you do it on purpose?” she asked.
“Do what on purpose?” Clive asked pleasantly.
“Go out of your way to aggravate me and your neighbors.”
“As far as I know, I don’t aggravate my neighbors, just you. But please, tell me, what did I do now? Did I sneeze too loud? Does my laugh bother you?”
She straightened her spine and elongated her neck, as if she could make herself taller.
He chuckled. She couldn’t be more than five feet two, tops.
Her eyes narrowed. “As a matter of fact, your laugh does bother me. That and the laughter of your buddies when it happens very loudly at one in the morning.”
“Is that why you were spying on us last night?”
“I was not spying.”
He hadn’t actually seen her lurking in the dark, but the curtain in one of her windows had been pulled across, and when he noticed it, it was quickly flicked back into place, which let him know she’d definitely been watching them.
“Looked like spying from my vantage point.” Clive pretended to ignore her and flipped through the bills.
“Like I said, I was not spying. The ruckus you and your friends made woke me up out of bed and I went to investigate.”
Out of bed?
His gaze lifted to hers and he almost asked, What were you wearing?
What did Miss Grumpy wear to bed? He imagined her in pajamas and a long, flannel nightgown, but he’d much rather see that body in a nice piece of lingerie. Pale pink or white would look right against all that brown skin.
His gaze flicked over her again, and his mouth went dry.
He should not be attracted to this woman, but almost every time he saw her, he wanted to knock the scowl off her face and replace it with an expression of open-mouthed, gasping satisfaction.
“Maybe instead of spying you should have come over to join us.”
“I wasn’t spying! You don’t care about anyone or anything, do you? You have no concept of being neighborly. I’ve heard you and your friends before, but last night was too much, and I’ve had it up to here with all the yapping and laughing loudly at all hours of the night.”
He felt kinda bad that he’d disturbed her sleep, and if he’d disturbed her, he had probably disturbed other people as well. Next time he’d have to make sure to tell the guys to keep down the noise, but he wouldn’t give this angry, grumpy woman the satisfaction of knowing he’d change his ways because of her.
Clive folded his hands over his chest. “What exactly are you going to do if you hear us making noise again?”
“Call the police.”
“Lady, you have issues. Instead of talking to people, you think the correct way to communicate is to threaten and yell. You’ve threatened my dog and now you’ve threatened me.”
“Because you don’t listen and have no respect for your neighbors.”
“That is not true!” Her accusation rubbed him the wrong way.
“Oh, yes, it is, Mr. Stevenson. I’m sending a letter to the board, and if that doesn’t stop you, expect a visit from the police the next time you have one of your little late-night parties. This is your final warning.” Her eyes flashed angrily at him, and she stomped toward her house.
“Oh great, another final warning,” Clive said, walking up his own driveway.
Renee stepped into her house, turned, and yelled, “I’ll be sending that letter right away to the board, you asshole!” Then she slammed the door.
“If I’m an asshole, so are you!” Clive yelled at the closed door. He sure hoped she heard him because he didn’t usually yell and felt like an idiot. He glanced up and down the street, hoping no one saw or heard him.
Samson looked confused at the outburst.
“She hates me,” he muttered, rubbing the dog’s head. Now she was going to complain about him to the board, again. She really knew how to make his life a living hell.
“That woman needs to get laid more than I do. If she wasn’t such an ornery witch, I’d help her out.”
Clive slammed his front door shut.
3
Renee cruised down the street, her gaze swinging left and right, smiling when she saw all her neighbors in compliance with the association regulations. She’d been called a busybody too many times to count, but refused to back down from her role in raising the bar on home ownership. Ever since she started writing letters to the board, there had been a vast improvement in the appearance of the properties in Summer Springs. Landscaping looked better, holiday decorations were taken down in a timely manner, and the exterior design of the homes were more consistent. Frankly, they should be thanking her.
Her smile widened when she thought about her concluded lunch date. She’d taken a former student to lunch and spent two hours giving him advice and critiquing the essay he wrote for his college application. He’d been
so pleased, he’d given her a big hug at the end of their visit and promised to update her on the results.
Renee pulled a little past her house and stopped in front of the Stevenson home. That reminded her that she needed to write that letter to the board. She’d get that out of the way today.
She backed into her driveway and was about to pull into the garage when Samson came careening at a high speed from next door and jumped behind the Volvo. She slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting the dog.
“What in the world?”
The crazy dog had absolutely lost its mind. This was exactly what she’d warned Stevenson could happen. The darn dog almost got run over.
Renee exited the car and pointed a finger. “Samson, this is the last time I’m dealing with you. I told your owner that I would call animal control, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do because he thinks I’m bluffing.”
She reached into the car, glaring at the dog who still hadn’t moved, and pulled her phone from the magnetic holder on the dashboard. As she browsed the Internet for the phone number, Samson growled low in his throat. The dog was looking at the house and paced agitatedly. He stopped and growled and then paced again.
Frowning, Renee followed his gaze. “What is the matter with you?”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than the front door flew open and two men ran out! Renee’s mouth fell open. The taller man had her television tucked against his chest and the shorter one had her laptop under his arm and a pillowcase in hand that was weighed down with some objects.
They froze when they saw her and the dog, looked at each other, then took off. The dog darted after them.
“Samson!” Renee screamed.
He caught the shorter one by the hem of his jeans and yanked him off his feet. The man toppled to the ground and dropped his loot. Eyes wide, he kicked at Samson but the dog didn’t let go. He snarled and tugged on the denim.
“Samson!” Renee screamed again, terrified that one of the thief’s kicks might land and hurt him.
She must have gotten through to him because he let go and the man scrambled to his feet and ran after his partner in crime who’d deserted him and disappeared into the trees, more than likely to a car they had stashed nearby.
Dumbfounded, Renee stared after him.
Samson trotted over and sat on his hind legs, looking at her as if waiting to be told what to do next.
“You saved me,” she whispered.
Had the German shepherd not been there, she would have entered the house, caught the burglars by surprise, and who knows what they would have done.
Slumped against the car door, she rubbed a hand over the dog’s head and then dialed 911. Afterward, she carefully picked up the dropped items so as not to disturb any fingerprints or other evidence. She placed them at the door and cautiously entered the house with Samson trotting along beside her like a security guard.
The house was not completely turned upside down. The men had clearly not spent a lot of time there and only grabbed the first items of value they could find.
They had kicked in the French doors in the living room at the back. The frame had splintered and when the doorknob slammed against the inside wall, it made a hole in the sheetrock and several panes of glass shattered to the floor.
Renee held back Samson so he wouldn’t get glass in his paws.
She sighed. “Well, damn.”
What is he doing here?
Renee watched Clive approaching from the window of her office.
The doorbell rang, and she scurried to the front and opened it.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“Actually, I’m here to help you. My daughter told me what happened, and I spoke to Jim across the street, and he said he helped you secure the back door, but you’ll need to replace the door completely, am I right?”
“I will,” Renee said slowly, already guessing the direction of the conversation.
“I’m sure you know, I used to work construction. I can help…assuming you want my help.” One dark eyebrow lifted in inquiry.
Renee’s first inclination was to decline. After all, they hadn’t exactly been friendly over the past year, but she saw no point in continuing to hold a grudge. Frankly, if not for his dog, which she now considered a godsend, she might not be standing here today—or at the very least, she could have been hurt instead of only losing a television.
“Actually, I would appreciate your help.”
His eyebrows lifted higher, as if he’d fully expected her to decline his offer.
“In that case, I think we need to start over.” He extended his hand. “I’m Clive Stevenson. Call me Clive.”
“Renee Joseph. Call me Renee.” She took his hand.
His rough-textured palm was not unpleasant, and his handshake wasn’t the aggressive kind some men liked to use. His was firm, but rather warm—comfortable, even, sending a tingle of sensation up her arm and making the hairs stand on end. When he released her hand, she missed the contact.
She cleared her throat and stepped back to allow him in. “Thank you for coming over.”
“No problem.”
“They came in this way.” She walked him through the house to the living room and showed him the boarded up area. “They kicked in the back door and entered through here.”
“You were fortunate not to be home,” Clive said grimly, setting down the tool box.
He rested his hands on his hips, and when he stepped closer to examine the damage, she took the liberty of checking him out. Her eyes trailed down the length of his sturdy-looking legs and retraced the path upward to check out his solid-looking back, one of her favorite parts of a man’s body and what had attracted her to her second husband. This man was fit.
Renee shook her head to dispel those thoughts. She’d had three unsuccessful marriages. She wanted nothing else to do with men.
Clive turned to face her. “Here’s what I suggest. For your next set of French doors, get the ones with impact-resistant glass, and a multi-point locking system. Those include flush bolts that go into the frame and into the floor, making the door harder to kick in. The doors should swing outward, but that can leave your hinges exposed, so I’ll install security hinges.”
“That sounds…complicated.”
“Not really. I can get all the supplies for you, but trust me, it’s worth having the extra security. Even with the multi-point locking system, if burglars have something as simple as a hammer, they could release the flush locks at the top and bottom of the door and easily push their way in.”
“Even with the deadbolt locked?” Renee asked, alarmed.
“Afraid so, but don’t worry about that. I have a neat little trick that stops that problem.” His gaze traveled to the hole in the sheetrock. “I can take care of that for you, too.”
“Okay. So how much is all of this going to cost me?” Renee braced for the figure.
“Just the door and any supplies I don’t have in my shed. Labor’s free.”
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “I can’t allow you to do that. I have to pay you.”
“I won’t take your money.”
“Why not?”
“Call it being neighborly.” His gaze rested on her in the silence, and she was reminded of her accusation that he hadn’t been neighborly in the past.
With heat warming her cheeks, she said, “That’s very kind of you.”
“I’m a kind guy.” He smiled a little, softening his features in a way that made her heart flutter.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
What the heck was the matter with her? It was one thing to find him attractive—after all, she wasn’t blind—but quite another to have her heart beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.
“Would it bother you if I use my recorder? It’s easier to get the information I need, and I transcribe the notes later.”
“I don’t mind.”
Clive removed a small recorder from his jeans. He turned it on and
then dropped the device into the front pocket of his T-shirt. Then he removed measuring tape from the tool box and spoke the measurements out loud so that the recorder captured the sound.
Afterward, he said, “I can pick up the door, unless you’d prefer to do that…?”
“I’d prefer for you to do it, to be honest. I’m not knowledgeable about that kind of thing, and if you don’t mind…”
Clive picked up the tool box. “Don’t mind at all. We’re all set, then. I’ll call you with the details later tonight. Oh, do me a favor, would you?” He pulled a little notebook and pen from his back pocket. “Write down your name, number, and email address for me.”
Renee took the notebook and wrote down the information and then handed everything back to him.
He glanced at it. “Perfect. I’ll email you the estimate tonight.”
Renee escorted him to the door. “Um…thank you. I appreciate your help.”
A spark lit his eyes as he smiled at her, and her heart raced a little bit, but she irritably tamped down the excitement.
“Not a problem, Renee. Just being neighborly.”
“Neighborly. Right.”
She watched him walk back to his house and closed the door. She felt a little something that she hadn’t felt in a few years. More than attraction. A type of…longing. A tightening in her chest.
He had a nice smile and seemed nice. He might not be that bad, but she reminded herself that after three failed marriages, she wasn’t looking.
“I’m not looking,” she said firmly to the empty room.
4
She smelled good today, as if she’d sprayed on perfume right before he arrived. The scent made Clive want to get closer and sniff her skin.
“Hope you don’t mind, I brought a helper with me. Margie, say good morning to Miss Joseph.”
Seasoned Page 2