by Claire Adams
I pulled into the parking lot of the local grocer and went in to pick up a few items I needed. After a quick trip down the aisles, I went and stood in line at a register. It appeared that only two checkout counters were working. I took out my phone to check up on Facebook, but before I could, a familiar voice interrupted me.
“Vivienne Andrews, how lovely to see you!”
I knew the voice at once. My neighbor, Mrs. Joan Dobbins — a sweet older lady who did little else but sit on her porch with her Maltese poodle, Fluffy, and observe the comings and goings of our neighborhood from sunrise to sunset and often beyond.
“Hi, Mrs. Dobbins,” I said with a smile. “It's nice to see you, too.”
“I love what you've done with your hair. It's still nice and long, but it looks so stylish now! And you've always had the loveliest blonde hair.”
“Thank you,” I said with an appreciative smile. “I just had it layered and textured a little. I've always liked this length, just down around my shoulder blades.”
“It really does suit you. I couldn't stand having long hair myself, but my old Frank, bless his heart, he loved my long hair when I was young, so I kept it long for him. When he passed 22 years ago, though, the first thing I did was cut it, and it's been short ever since!”
I laughed politely – it wasn't the first time I'd heard that story.
“I don't think I'll cut mine anytime soon,” I said, hoping that the line would move a little faster. Mrs. Dobbins was nice enough, but she could talk until she was blue in the face and you were too.
“You shouldn't cut it, dear; you look absolutely stunning. Why, I don't know why some man hasn't come and swept you off your feet yet. They must be beating down your door.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I mumbled, not wanting to get on the topic with her. Like her story, it wasn’t the first time. “I'm just so busy with the daycare, and I've got those repairs to take care of around the house—”
She cut me off. “And that's why you need a good man by your side, Vivienne!”
I chuckled, somewhat uncomfortably. “I guess so,” I mumbled. Why wasn't this line moving?
“Speaking of men, there's a new fellow that moved in across the road from us this past weekend while you were out of town.”
That piqued my interest. The house across the street had been empty for months.
“Really? The Sanchez place?”
“That's right – someone's finally bought it. And I tell you what, between you and me, he's quite a looker! You should go say hello to him. Maybe bake him a pie. You know, offer a good neighborly welcome,” she said with a wink and a smile.
I laughed. “I thought you said you wanted me to welcome him to the neighborhood. You’ve obviously never eaten any pie I’ve tried to bake,” I smiled at her.
“Well, how about I bake the pie for you, and then you go across the street and give it to him?”
I laughed. “We'll see about that. So, I know you have the scoop. What’s his story?”
“He's the new principal of that high school three blocks away, what's it called again?” she asked.
“JFK High.”
“Ah, yes.”
I felt somewhat disappointed; if he was the principal, that meant he'd be a good bit older than me. Most likely in his 40s or 50s. Not that I was interested or anything, but it might be nice to have someone close to my own age move in near me. I'd been in Irvine for two years now, but still only had a handful of friends, none of whom lived in my neighborhood.
“Well, I actually thought he was just a teacher until I spoke to him. He's so young for a principal,” Mrs. Dobbins said, rummaging around in her purse for something.
My interest was officially piqued again.
“Really? And just how old is he?” I asked, trying not to sound too interested. If I seemed too interested, Mrs. Dobbins would make it her mission to bake me a pie a week until she was satisfied we were either going to get married, or one of us was batting for the other team.
“He's only 32. Would you believe it, just 32 years old and already the principal of a high school?”
“That is surprising,” I remarked. “I guess he knows his stuff.”
“I guess he does. And like I said, he's a right handsome fella, too. And he seems like such a nice, polite young man. I'm more than happy to bake a nice blueberry pie if you'd like to take it over to him. And I promise that your secret will be safe with me. He'll never find out that it wasn't you who baked the pie!”
I laughed. “Maybe I'll take you up on that offer, Mrs. Dobbins, but not right away.”
The line had finally moved, and I was able to start loading my items up onto the checkout counter while the person in front of me was busy getting their total added up.
“Well, looks like I've gotta sort this out now, Mrs. Dobbins,” I said to her. “It's been nice chatting with you. I'll see you later, I imagine. I have some stuff to do in my yard.”
“And I'll be on the porch with Fluffy, enjoying a nice iced tea. Would you like me to make extra for you if you're going to be out in your yard in this heat? There's nothing like a good iced tea on a warm summer evening.”
“If you've got any to spare, I might take you up on that offer later,” I said with a smile. “Thanks, Mrs. Dobbins. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“I will, Vivienne, dear. See you later.”
The clerk turned to me as she passed the last of my items over the scanner.
Ten minutes later, I turned onto my street and slowed down as I neared my house. I saw, from a distance, someone in the front yard of the house across the street from mine – the house that had formerly belonged to the Sanchez family, the house Mrs. Dobbins and I had been talking about.
As I drew closer, my eyes widened as I got a clearer view of the man in the yard mowing the lawn. A mundane task, yeah, but he was doing it clad only in a pair of gym shorts and running shoes. I had to make myself look back at the road so I didn’t hit a neighbor’s mailbox. One thing was certain; he didn't look like any school principal I'd ever seen. I might have wanted to go to school if my principal had been blessed with an Adonis-like physique and surfer's tan. I couldn't take my eyes off my new neighbor. The man was ripped.
Mrs. Dobbins had not been exaggerating; he was ridiculously attractive with his strong jaw covered with a five o' clock shadow and stylish black hair that was just long enough my fingers were itching to run through it just looking at him from the road. It’s a good thing the speed limit in our neighborhood was only 10 miles per hour. Otherwise, my gawking would have been obvious.
I pulled into my driveway and parked the car, hoping that he hadn't noticed my staring when I had driven slowly past him. Thankfully, he seemed too absorbed in his task to notice, so I got out the car and took a few more good, long looks at him as inconspicuously as possible while unpacking my groceries.
Things around the neighborhood had just taken an intriguing turn. The really attractive man mowing the lawn shirtless just across the road from me was proof. Not that I wanted to get into anything, but I sure couldn't complain about the view.
Out of habit, I wondered if he was single. But someone that looked like him couldn't possibly be – not unless he was a player. Although, someone in a position of responsibility with such a public persona as a high school principal was probably unlikely to be a player. His job and reputation would depend on him not being one. Or at least being very good at keeping a low profile at it. But in a town like ours, someone would find out.
I shook my head and turned my focus to my groceries. “Doesn’t matter what he does in his free time, Vivienne,” I mumbled to myself. I was not ready to get into anything with a man, not yet, not after Simon. Just the thought of that man sent shivers of revulsion and disgust down my spine. It had been three years, and while I had mostly been able to put my life back together, some things just took time to fix. Longer than I would have ever imagined. So, no, I definitely wasn't ready to let another guy into my life, not in an
y sort of intimate way.
I carried my groceries inside and couldn't help but throw one last glance over my shoulder at the hot new neighbor as he pushed his mower around the lawn. He looked up just as I looked at him and our eyes met for a second. A jolt of embarrassment rippled through me, and a red heat flushed through my cheeks. He raised a hand and waved at me. I waved back awkwardly and hurried inside, closing the door quickly behind me.
I set my groceries down on the kitchen counter and let out a sigh of relief. That was close! He'd almost caught me ogling him. I started to unpack the eggs and almost dropped them when a knock at my door broke the silence. My heart practically jumped into my throat. I took a few steps back to the door, my heart pounding, and peered through the peephole. My jaw dropped. Standing there in all his shirtless, sweat-glistening glory was my new neighbor.
Chapter Two
Everett
Everybody can use a little distraction from the bullshit life throws at you from time to time. Doesn’t hurt if that distraction comes in the form of a blonde bombshell.
I had been wondering about the woman who lived across the street from me ever since the lady next door to her, sweet old Mrs. Dobbins, had come over and had a chat with me earlier in the afternoon. She seemed like a likable lady, even if she was a bit talkative. I hadn't even moved all of my boxes into my new house, let alone been able to unpack any of them, when I learn more about my new neighborhood in 20 minutes than I’d known about my old one in four years. The truth was, I had only been half-listening to her ramble on about everyone in the neighborhood until she mentioned that a beautiful 27-year-old lived across the street from me.
So, when I noticed a car coming up the street and saw an absolutely gorgeous woman in it, I had kind of hoped it was the woman Mrs. Dobbins had been talking about, although I figured with my luck, it'd just be some random person driving past who I'd never see again. Then again, maybe my luck wasn’t so bad. The car started slowing down and lo and, behold, she turned into the driveway right across from my house and parked her car.
I carried on mowing the lawn, not wanting to make it too obvious that I was checking her out. She had apparently just been grocery shopping, and I watched her as she unloaded her bags. She was short and petite with nice curves and a gorgeous head of blonde hair that shimmered in the sun. I couldn't help noticing her ass which was full and round, just how I liked 'em. Then, suddenly, she shot a glance at me, and our eyes met. I immediately felt as if there was a connection there, so I flashed her a smile.
I don't know if she was embarrassed or just shy, but she looked away quickly and hurried inside. Mrs. Dobbins had not been exaggerating when she’d said my new neighbor was beautiful. I tried to focus on the lawn. It was a mess, and it needed my attention something fierce. After all, I’d started the job; I needed to finish it before my meeting tonight.
I was determined to get done what I needed to get done, and after getting all the boxes into the house and getting my little Jane into bed for a nap, the tangled mess of lawn out front needed to be tamed. It had looked like a jungle since I’d started moving in the day before, and I wasn't about to present that sort of face to my new neighbors – especially the attractive one across the street that I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about all of a sudden.
Of course, I wasn't about to let that distract me from my purpose. I had moved here to turn things around at JFK High School. My past experiences and my reputation are what led the school board to offer me the job. The staff had already gone through the preliminary two weeks of prepping for the school year, so I was coming in with little to no time to get to know them.
I had enjoyed my time as a deputy principal at an inner-city school in downtown Los Angeles over the past three years, but the time had come for a change. So, when the school board of Irvine had contacted me and offered me the position of principal, a position I had expected to take me at least another five to 10 years to attain, I had to say yes. Besides, I'd felt like my work in Los Angeles was complete. I'd spearheaded a program that sorted out their gang violence problem and generally got things working as they were supposed to.
But even though Irvine was very different to inner city LA, I would be facing a set of challenges to deal with here, too — a new drug called “Rocket” was sweeping through southern California and leaving tragedy and broken dreams in its wake. It was creating an ugly mark on the formerly pristine JFK College. According to the head of the school board, they needed a man who could turn things around, who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, a man who could go toe-to-toe with drug dealers and gangsters and not back down. They needed me. I was ready to rise to the challenge. I had a tough job ahead of me, but like I said, we could all use a bit of distraction from time to time.
Besides, I had the perfect excuse to talk to her – a new resident wanting to meet his neighbors. It was all perfectly innocent.
I turned off the mower, checked the monitor in my shorts pocket to make sure Jane was still sleeping, and walked across the street, grinning. When I got to her porch and knocked on the door, it seemed like it took a while for her to open it, and in those few seconds between me knocking and her opening the door, I actually started to feel a little nervous.
When she opened the door, however, I felt that I had definitely done the right thing by going over and talking to her. She was even more beautiful close-up with her big blue eyes, dainty button nose, and full, dark pink lips. I was so busy staring at her that I forgot to speak.
“Umm, hi,” she said, breaking the silence after a few awkward moments. “You just moved into the Sanchez place across the road, right?”
“Hi. I did, yes.”
I extended a hand to her, which she took and shook gently.
“I'm Everett James,” I said. “Just thought I’d come over and introduce myself since I saw you pull in.”
“I'm Vivienne Andrews,” she replied. “Nice to meet you.” She smiled, and it made her even more beautiful. “Say, you've got a bit of an accent. Texas?”
I nodded. “Grew up on a ranch in East Texas. I haven't been back for many years, but yeah, a lil' of the accent is still there.”
“My grandmother was a Texan,” she said. “Also from East Texas. That's how I recognized it.”
“Great place. You get out there much?” I asked.
“We visited a few times when I was a kid, but I don't know it too well. Like you, it's been a few years.”
I nodded. An awkward silence passed between us, and I scrambled to think of something to say to keep the conversation going.
“Say, uh, I noticed as I was coming up the steps that your porch rail is loose. Didn’t know if maybe you or your husband had noticed and—”
“Oh, I’m not married,” she interrupted, somewhat hastily.
“Oh, I see. Well, maybe your boyfriend might want to take a look at—”
“I uh, I don't have a boyfriend either,” she said.
“Really?” I blurted out without thinking, surprised that she didn’t and kinda taken aback at how quickly she had corrected me. It was good to know, though. “Well, since I'm almost done mowing my lawn, and I’m pretty good with a hammer, how about I see if I can get that fixed for you? It won't take more than, say, 15 minutes.”
“Oh no, I really couldn't ask you to do something like that; it would be—”
At that moment, my phone started ringing in my pocket.
“Excuse me, Vivienne,” I said as I took my phone out and looked at the screen. The babysitter. “I just need to take this call.”
“Sure.”
I answered the phone.
“Hey Maggie,” I said. “What's up?”
Maggie explained that she had come down with a bad cold and thus wouldn't be able to babysit my daughter, Janie, tonight while I was at my meeting.
“Oh no, sorry to hear that, Maggie. I sure do hope you get better soon. I'll, uh, I'll find someone else to look after Jane tonight. Thanks for calling and letting me know.” We said our
goodbyes, I put the phone back in my pocket, and shook my head and sighed. Maggie was the teenage daughter of my contact at the school board and essentially my only option for a sitter.
“What's the problem?” Vivienne asked.
“Oh, that was my babysitter. She can't take care of Jane tonight. Seems she's come down with a bad cold.”
“Oh, you're a father?” her eyes widened a little, and it was quite clear that she was surprised.
“I am, yeah. My lil' Jane is three years old.”
“And your wife isn't able to look after her tonight?” she asked.
“I'm not married . . . We've uh, we've been divorced a couple of years now.”
She nodded. “Ah, I see. Well, I'll tell you what, Everett, how about I take care of Jane for you tonight in exchange for you fixing my porch rail? I know it might seem a little weird, you know, me offering to do that when we've only just met each other, but I happen to have a lot of experience with very young children. I own a daycare 15 minutes away from here. See? Here's my card,” she said, reaching into her handbag from the coat hook next to her on the wall and taking out a business card to give to me. “It's got my cell number right there if you need to get hold of me for anything.”
“Thanks! Actually, that would work out perfectly. I've just taken a job as principal of JFK High School, and as you know, the new school year starts in a few days, and I've got a meeting with the teaching staff tonight about certain, uh, issues that have been plaguing the school in recent months.”
“Sounds like important business. Like I said, I'd be happy to take care of Jane tonight if that would help you.”