The Good Guy on my Porch (Catalpa Creek #3)

by Katharine Sadler

  THE GOOD GUY ON MY PORCH

  Katharine Sadler

  Copyright © 2018 by Katharine Sadler

  All Rights Reserved.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  Dilly

  I sat straight up in bed, my heart pounding, my flight response in full effect. I’d been dreaming, fast asleep, and then there’d been…There it was again. Someone was banging on my door.

  Abram reached over and pulled me down, flush against his warm body.

  Over his shoulder, I glanced at the clock on the night stand. It was only seven in the morning. Who could possibly be knocking on my door at seven in the morning? Everyone I knew would call if they needed me. It was probably someone trying to sell a security system or vacuum cleaners, nothing that should distract me from the man in my bed. I snuggled up against him, my face to his so I could see the way his brilliant green eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. He was twelve years older than me, not that I’d known it when I’d met him, but it hadn’t bothered me when I found out. His maturity made our relationship easy, his expectations of me less intrusive, his understanding of my need for freedom lacking the suspicion and jealousy I’d received from too many of my past boyfriends.

  “Dilly Dally,” he said, stroking my cheek. “I would give every dollar I own and every breath in my body to spend the rest of the day in bed with you, but the demands of reality, my need for an income, and all the necessities of a responsible life demand I leave you. If I were a richer man, I’d never wear clothes or leave this bed again.”

  I smiled. His sweet words almost made up for that horrible, patronizing nick name he’d given me. Abram wasn’t afraid to say sweet things and he loved foreplay more than any man I’d ever dated. We’d even met in a romantic way, both sheltering from a rain storm in a gazebo at Peak park. We’d hit it off right away, chatting about the weather and books. “We might get hungry,” I said.

  His gaze heated. “I can think of so many parts of you I prefer to food. You taste better than—”

  The banging started up again. “What the hell is that noise?” Abram asked, anger flinting his emerald eyes.

  I rolled and stared at the wall. It was now clear the banging was coming from the other side of my bedroom wall, from the other half of the duplex I rented, and not my front door. “Maybe Mary hired someone to work on the place, get it ready to be rented.”

  Abram leapt from the bed and pulled on boxers, then he strode from the room like a knight to battle. “I’ll straighten this out,” he said. “I will not leave you alone with obnoxious strangers next door.”

  I watched him go, my hands clasped like a Disney Princess watching her prince march to her defense, and sighed. Abram was just so perfect. Don’t get me wrong. I consider myself a feminist and if Abram wasn’t there, I’d have had no problem handling the interloper next door myself, but a man caring enough about me to defend me just did something to me. I sighed again and listened for the firm discussion I expected to hear next door.

  Buzzing from the night stand distracted me and I glanced down to see a text notification flash on Abram’s phone. I’m not the paranoid or the jealous type, but I had been burned a time or six, so I twisted to read the message.

  Lara: Our bed was cold without you in it last night, sweetheart.

  My blood went cold, icy cold, and my hands shook as I reached for the phone and slid the home screen away. No password. What an idiot. The rational part of my brain pointed out that Abram and I had never had the talk about being exclusive. I hadn’t wanted to ruin the pure romance of our interactions with mundane chats about exclusivity and labels. No…Those had been his words when I’d brought it up. Damn it. I clicked on the text he’d received, and an image popped up of a fully naked woman spread out on silk sheets. She appeared to be closer to Abram’s age, gorgeous, and fit.

  I did not have low self-esteem. I was genetically gifted to be able to eat whatever I wanted and stay tiny. Tiny in every way. Kind people called me petite and my best friend, Carrie, called me a china doll. I was happy with my tininess, most days, but sometimes I wondered if maybe I should firm up my soft edges with the occasional work out. Maybe get the fit look that was so popular right now. It was usually a fleeting thought, until I was confronted with my boyfriend receiving text messages from a woman who was so clearly not tiny and strong enough to break me in two.

  Anger flared, and I tuned out the yelling from next door as I scrolled through texts from this woman. Sexts, but also requests for him to bring home milk or pick up the kids from…My vision went blurry and I couldn’t breathe. My heart pounded like it was fighting it’s way free from an attacker.

  Abram had told me he had no interest in marriage or a family. He liked his freedom too much. It was one of the reasons I’d thought he was so perfect for me. He’d never ask for more than I could give. Except now, it was clear he didn’t want those things with me because he already had them. I gripped the phone so tight my knuckles went white. I wanted to scream, to smash his phone against the wall, to kick him in the balls hard enough to make sure he’d never have more children.

  Outside, sirens blared, and I wondered if they were coming for me. If the whole world somehow knew I needed help. Or knew I was about to commit a crime. I sucked in a deep breath, put the phone back on the night stand, and stood. No one was here for me, there was no cosmic force coming to save me. I was going to have to do this on my own, and I would do it right.

  I pulled on the undies, jeans, and t-shirt I’d discarded next to my bed the night before when Abram had shown up, unexpectedly, and lured me into bed. No. He hadn’t lured me. I wasn’t an innocent victim. I was a home wrecker, because I hadn’t asked the right questions, hadn’t investigated the man I’d been dating.

  He sauntered in, his boxers hanging low on his hips like he was a sixteen-year-old skate punk and not a forty-year-old Economics professor at the local university. His slow, sexy smile faded when he caught sight of me, hands on hips, anger likely making my face as red as a raspberry (I had pale skin, emotions tended to make me change colors).

  “I took care of it. The guy claimed he’s the new renter, but—”

  “Who is Lara?”

  He had the brain cells to look nervous. “I thought I’d told you about her.”

  My hands fell to my sides, clenched into tight fists. “Nope. You failed to mention her or your children.”

  “Right.” He shifted and took a step back. “I guess I forgot to mention it.”

  “You forgot to mention it?” I was screaming now. I rarely screamed except in happiness or pleasure. I was angrier than I’d been in a very long time. “Did you forget you have children who want their father not to cheat on their mother? A wife who misses you when you’re out fucking some other woman?” And I was the other woman. It made me sick to think I’d been the woman to destroy a family, to take a father from his children.

  He raised his hands, calm when I was losing control. It only made me madder. �
��It’s not like that, Dilly Dally.” I hated that nickname more than ever as I realized that’s all I was to him. I was an illicit dalliance. “My wife and I have an open relationship. She knows all about you and she’s totally fine with it.”

  That stopped me. I thought open relationships were urban legends, fantasy stories men made up to excuse their straying ways. “Right. So, if I call her right now, she’ll be glad to hear you shared my bed last night instead of hers?”

  He shrugged, his expression bland. It was an expression he wore often, one I’d thought meant he was above emotion, intellectual on a level I’d never be. Now he just seemed dull and faded. “Go ahead. She won’t want the details, but she won’t be surprised to hear where I was.”

  I just stared at him, flabbergasted. “Does she also take lovers? She sleeps with whoever she wants and that’s okay with you?”

  He glanced over my shoulder, his gaze going distant, like I was no longer worth his attention. “Can we discuss this another time? I like to be home for breakfast with the kids before they leave for school.”

  All my anger and shock faded. This man didn’t know me at all if he thought I’d ever speak to him again. “Get your stuff and get out. I don’t want to see or hear from you ever again.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I thought you were mature enough to understand—”

  “That not speaking to you thing starts now.” My throat felt tight and tears pricked my eyes. I would not cry in front of this man. “I’m going to take a shower and wash your filth from my skin, and then I’m going to wash my sheets and try to pretend I never met you.”

  I spun and shut myself in the bathroom, but I still heard him mutter something about women and their hysterics. I took a moment to collect myself. I was an adult. I was a mature adult and he was a jerk who didn’t deserve my — Aw, screw it.

  I swung the bathroom door open and marched into my bedroom ready to…Well, probably just yell some more, but he was already gone. I ran to the front porch, but he was nowhere in sight and his car was still parked on the street, blocked by a moving van.

  “Mornin’ Dilly,” Sandra hollered from her porch next door. She was a few years older than me, a Catalpa Creek native, and a kind woman, even if she was nosy as hell. “What was up with the police at your place this morning?”

  I gave her a sweet smile. “They weren’t here for me. I’ll let you know if I find out.”

  She pursed her full lips, expression skeptical. A quick glance across the street made it apparent she wasn’t the only neighbor curious about the commotion at my place. I hurried back inside before anyone could ask any more questions.

  I found Abram in my kitchen, still in boxers, putting coffee into my coffee maker like he had a right to anything in my house.

  “What the hell are you still doing here?” I yelled.

  He calmly kept making coffee, giving me a bland side eye. “My car is blocked. I’m going to make some coffee and then I’m going to find someone to move that truck.”

  “No. Nope. No way. I want you out of my house right now.”

  He frowned at me in disapproval and kept making coffee. Was I invisible? Had he suddenly gone deaf?

  I wanted to punch him, wanted to throw something at him, but I was tiny and he was big and I knew how any sort of physical violence would end. I drummed my nails on the kitchen counter. “Abram, I’m only going to ask you one more time. Get out of my house or you are going to be sorry.”

  He pushed the button on the coffee machine and turned to face me, one hip against my counter, a smirk on his face. “What are you going to do, Dilly Dally?”

  Red coated my vision and I wished I had taken a self-defense class or ten. I had never wanted to hurt someone as much as I wanted to hurt that man.

  His smirk increased as he walked over to me. “Tell me, why are you even out here, when you said you’d be in the shower?” He bopped me on the nose with one long, manicured finger. The fucker actually bopped me on the nose. “Clearly, you still want me. You’re at war with yourself, Dilly Dally. You never really wanted to the truth about me. Every woman wants the fantasy. That’s exactly what I gave you, along with more orgasms than you could count. You want to hate what you view as infidelity, but at the same time you ache for me with a primal lust that is so overwhelming it’s hard for you to fully comprehend.”

  “Did you just call me stupid?”

  He pursed his lips. “Is that what you heard? Dilly Dally, you misunderstand, as you are misunderstanding your own confused feelings right now. It’s not your fault, women are not natively imbued with the sort of logic that—”

  I didn’t know what he was about to say next and I didn’t really care. I was enjoying the way his eyes rolled back in his head and his throat spasmed as his primal brain caught up to the fact that I’d just punched him in the balls. I might be tiny, but I had a lot of anger backing up that punch. He grunted and dropped to the floor, clutching his crotch.

  “Get out of my house or there’s more where that came from,” I said. Then, I ran to my room, grabbed my cell phone from my night stand and locked myself in the bathroom, my finger hovering over the call button after I’d dialed in 911, because I might be a woman with an illogical brain, but I was no idiot.

  I stayed in the bathroom, finger on the proverbial trigger until I heard his shod feet stomping across my hardwood floors and the front door slamming as he left. I sighed and dropped to sit on the toilet lid, my head in my hands. I was furious at Abram, but I was almost angrier at myself. I’d been so excited to have met a man I actually liked who didn’t demand too much from me, that I hadn’t questioned his infrequent calls and his insistence on dining in or going out in the next town over. He might have an open relationship with his wife, but he wasn’t open about having other people know how he lived. There’d been warning signs and I’d chosen to ignore them, because for the first time in a very long time I hadn’t felt so damn lonely.

  ***

  Rain drops fell intermittently from the gray sky like mother nature couldn’t decide whether to cry or spit. I felt for her.

  I waved to Ronnie as he unlocked the door of the hardware store and smiled at Layla as she hurried past with her three kids in tow. Even on a soggy, dreary day, downtown Catalpa Creek was hopping. The store fronts were lit and warm, and the trees were blooming with flowers. Past the end of the street, the mountains rose majestically in the distance. I stopped for a moment and just soaked in the view. I pulled in a deep breath and let the beauty of nature and—

  “Hey, get out of the way,” some guy growled at me as he shoved past, almost knocking me over in his hurry to get down the street. My momentary calm evaporated. Men. Gah!

  I try not to be a judgy person, to be accepting of all lifestyles, but when kids are involved…I’d been a girl who’d had to grow up without a father and his loss had hurt me and broken my mother. I couldn’t imagine any man choosing to be absent. I sighed. Abram was having breakfast with his kids, he was there, maybe I was judging him too harshly…Nah, if he was choosing strange booty over his kids, he wasn’t making them a priority and that just made me sad. I was sad for myself and sad for Abram’s kids and sad for Abram on some level.

  I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin and marched into The Morning Brew. Starting today, I was going to grow up. No more getting lulled into complacency by a pretty face and prettier words. I was going to go into my next relationship with eyes wide open.

  “Good morning, Dilly,” May Belle, the owner of The Morning Brew, said from behind the counter. Her smile could resurrect a dead man.

  “Morning, May Belle. Love the ‘do.” Her hair was all natural today, with bouncy curls that fluffed like a halo around her bright face.

  “Thank you, sweetie. What can I get you?”

  “I’ll take the biggest Mocha Latte you can make and one of those double fudge muffins I adore.”

  “I’ll get you the coffee, but I just sold the last muffin.”

  I followed her gaze to
a table a few feet from where I stood. A familiar man sat there, muffin paused midway to his lips. He lowered the carb-filled treat slowly, clearly having heard us talking. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m willing to share.”

  The guy was decent-looking, almost a foot taller than me, with a lean runner’s body, and a nice enough face. His dark hair was a disordered mess every time I saw him, but the look suited him somehow. He was a good friend to Aubrey, Carrie’s sister-in-law, but at the moment, I hated all men. And I wanted nothing from any of them. “No thanks, Oliver,” I said. “It’s a full muffin kind of morning.”

  I turned back to the counter and looked at the muffin options on display. There was one lone gluten-free wheat grass muffin and a peach muffin. I hated peach pastries. Peaches should be eaten fresh, not mushed into muffins. “Busy morning?” I asked as May Belle passed my coffee over the counter and I handed her cash.

  She nodded and smiled apologetically. “There’s some sort of conference going on at the university this week. Sorry, Dilly.”

  “You can have mine,” Oliver said, stepping up next to me, so close I could smell the chocolatey goodness of the muffin he was holding out just beneath my nose. “You look like you need this more than I do. I’m trying to watch my sugar intake, anyway.”

  It was a kind gesture, it really was, but then he had to throw in the bit about sugar content. It was the kind of thing Abram would do, not that he’d ever offered me a muffin, the greedy, smug man. “I’ve had a really rough morning. The man I was beginning to think I might spend the rest of my life with has a wife and kids he forgot to mention. Can you explain to me how anyone could just forget to mention he has a wife and kids? Isn’t that the sort of information that should come up if his relationship is as open as he claims it is and he’s totally happy with the whole no commitment lifestyle?” Oliver was staring at me wide-eyed and it occurred to me that I sounded like a crazy woman, but I couldn’t seem to shut up. “I mean, it seems really sweet that you’re offering me your muffin, but is it actually kindness that’s behind this act of generosity or is it a product of your own inability to commit to your reduced sugar-diet plan?”