Right. The big, red panties. Focus on those. Focus on those.
Not really helping.
I’m fucked.
Before long, she returns with a tall box bearing the same pink and white cursive writing as the one that Brent just handed her. When she flips the top, half a dozen little frog faces standing on lollipop sticks stare up at us.
“Cakepops!” Brent yelps as he makes a grab for it.
“I-I hope you don’t mind.” She blinks up at me.
God—she can’t keep looking at me like that, all shy and wide-eyed, making me imagine her on her knees, begging for my cock between her lips.
My thoughts get all tangled up inside my head. Just looking at her, I get lost. My stare lingers far too long.
“Leo?” The rise and fall of her chest accelerates. She watches me, waiting. Fuck! What the hell is wrong with me? Violating my next-door neighbor with my eyes. She must think I'm a creep.
This girl is throwing me off focus in a major way. She has bold chestnut eyes, thick mahogany hair, the hottest ass I've seen in my 29 years of life. And an innocence that whittles away at my defenses even though she’s not trying.
I scrub my hand over my face and look away. “I don’t mind.” I turn to Brent. “Say thank you.”
“Thank you!” he squeals, his eyes never leaving the mini frog treats in his hands. He's going to be deliriously high off of sugar in five minutes flat. “Daddy, can I eat them now?”
I cast him a stern look. “Only one before dinner.”
“Yay!” My kid flies down the stairs, barreling toward our house.
Again, I find myself staring at Reese. Fuck—she’s hot! “Thanks for that.” I struggle to keep the aroused rumble out of my tone.
She smiles and the back of my neck prickles. “You’re welcome.” As her gaze travels to Brent, I run my palm over the ignited spot to chase the sensation away. “It was sweet of him to surprise me like that.”
I nod my way through the agitation and attraction swirling at the bottom of my stomach. Why is my body doing this to me? Doesn’t it know that this girl is out of bounds for me? Doesn’t it know that my life is too much of a wreck to get swept up in this kind of lust? And on top of everything, she’s my best friend’s sister. I’m going to need to put up a hell of a fight against my impulses.
“Good night,” I say, my voice much huskier than it has any right to be.
“Good night.” I love that flush on her cheeks.
She stands on the stoop and watches me go down the stairs. Then, smiling to herself, she disappears into her house.
Chapter Seven
Leo
"Brenton! Brenton, where are you?!"
Dammit! I look away for one second and my four year old pulls a Prison Break on me…
You hear people complain that they can't let their children out of their sight for even a second. I always thought that was a melodramatic exaggeration…until my son dug through my neighbor's trash and showed up at her door with her discarded panties on his head.
Since then, I've watched him like a hawk, keeping him within my sights unless he was asleep or at school. Because I don't need him traumatizing any more of the nice residents of our little cul-de-sac.
But this afternoon, when I go to get the pizza delivery from the front door, my rascal pounces on the opportunity to make an escape.
My heart leaps into my throat as I'm walking toward the kitchen and find the back door open wide. No signs of Brent. Fuck! My nervous system is instantly racked by panic as I drop the pizza onto the kitchen table and dash out onto the porch. “Brent! Brent!”
"Hey…" A soft, mellow voice hits my gut with the force of a sledgehammer.
I glance over at the neighboring yard to find Reese rising to her feet with a wide-brimmed straw hat flopping over her eyes and a watering can clenched in her hands. She's wearing a loose floral blouse tucked into faded denim shorts. Holy whoa!
Her legs are long, shapely and bronzed by the sun. And in that moment, my brain attacks me with the sudden image of myself spreading those golden thighs and sinking between them to feast. My hardening cock is definitely a fan of this obscenely inappropriate visual.
Brent breaks my trance when he steps out around her. "Daddy?"
My chest is heaving, my pulse thunders in my ears as my panic melts into irritation. "What are you eating?!" I stomp down the stairs just as he's shoving something into his mouth.
He takes a frightful step back behind her. "A tomato," he whispers, peeking up at me with big, fearful eyes.
Reese holds up a hand protectively. "I gave it to him." She gestures at the small patch of vegetables growing alongside her porch. "It's from the garden." I notice the basket of freshly-harvested cherry tomatoes by her boot-covered feet and I suck in a deep breath, willing my heartbeat to slow down.
I hate to admit to myself that I overreacted but fuck, I thought I'd lost the kid. I thought that he had wandered out of the yard or someone had snatched him up. I can't keep doing this. I've got to give my frayed nerves a rest or else I'll have a fucking meltdown.
Reese is still staring at me. I can't tell if she's scared that I’ll go ballistic on her or if she simply pities the fool I am. "I'm sorry," she says quietly. "I should have asked you first."
I feel calmer now. I'm breathing. Pulling air in through my nose, pushing it out through my mouth. Of course I'm relieved that the tiny human in my custody is currently alive, in good health and complying with all applicable laws and regulations. But I can't deny that the sight of Reese in her garden boots and her rubber gloves has a mellowing effect on me, too. She's so pretty. She looks so soft.
But the streak of mud under her cheekbone, the moisture rolling down the center of her boobs—raaar!!—it nudges the caveman inside of me.
On the outside, I maintain my composure. ”No, it's fine. I just panicked when he disappeared. That's all."
She nods in understanding, smiling softly. "I get that. They move around quick, these little critters."
One corner of my mouth spasms, trying to curve upward. The twitch is almost alien to me. A smile? I haven’t used my facial muscles for that particular activity in a long time.
"You want one, daddy?" I look down as Brenton tosses another tomato into his mouth before stretching one out to me.
Since when does he like tomatoes? I put a few slices in his ham sandwich the other day and he told me it tasted like socks and ketchup.
"Try it," Reese prods, giving me a soft pat on the shoulder. The simple touch is like a small combustion on the surface of my skin. Awareness floods my veins. Her face goes red like the tomato and her eyes flutter. "I'm so sorry. I get touchy when I'm excited…and wordy when I'm nervous…and gassy when I eat too many tomatoes.” Brenton giggles. Realizing what she just said, her eyes bulge and she purses her lips into her mouth. “I should be quiet now..."
My lips do that twitchy thing again. I nod. But I'd like nothing more than for her to keep talking. I like the sound of her voice. I like her spontaneous ramblings. I like learning who she is.
I take the small fruit from my son and pop it into my mouth. I bite down and sweet acidity explodes across my taste buds. "Mmm..."
She grins proudly, her face alight. "You like?"
"This is amazing. You planted them?" My eyes roam over the small vegetable plot. I'm able to identify sweet peppers, string beans and some sort of greens among the crop. Brent is sitting on the ground with the vegetable basket between his legs, feasting away.
Reese nods and twirls a lock of hair around her finger. "Been planting them every spring for as long as I can remember," she tells me. "When my parents lived here, my mom and I would do this together. And then her MS got really bad and my dad moved her into a long-term care facility in Springfield, close to his office. Did I mention that he’s a state senator? Anyway, I didn’t want to let the tradition die, y’know? So, I kept it going.” Her words pour out in a quick, nervous stream. “That’s what she’d want. My mom was super
independent before she got sick and she instilled that in her kids. So learning to grow my own food feels like a tribute to her in some ways." Completely out of breath, she pauses, as if waiting for my input.
I just stare at her, absorbing her beauty.
At my silence, her expression halts with worry. "Did I mention that I get wordy when I'm nervous?" She giggles awkwardly and her laughter smooths out the knots in my gut. She folds her arms tightly around her as she rocks back on her heels. “Anyway, that’s the story of my vegetable garden.” Her face holds a soft smile as she stares at me.
It takes me a long moment to realize that she's waiting for me to say something. Oh, right. That's how conversation works.
"Yeah..." That's all my brain can manage to come up with. Can I be a bigger idiot right now?
We're quiet for a beat. She leans against the side of the porch and peels her hat off, then shakes out her messy hair. I feel a groan get locked in my throat and my cock thickens ever-so-slightly.
Brent runs off, making a futile attempt to trap a butterfly in his tiny hands. Reese's intent gaze is on me. "Charlie never really mentioned why exactly you moved out here..." Her eyes are expectant as she anticipates my answer.
I'm generally not too eager to discuss my current situation but with Reese—she's so soothing, so calming—I just want an excuse to spend a few more minutes with her.
I sigh and mutter a response. "I just needed a fresh start. Getting divorced."
Sympathy invades her expression. "Sorry to hear that." Her gaze travels over to Brenton. I watch the way she watches him, the pity and tenderness in her eyes. Mara didn’t seem to think that abandoning her kid was a big deal but Reese’s reaction confirms that it is.
And for some reason, I'm still talking. "I came back from a bloody, gruelling tour of duty and instead of welcoming me home with open arms, she slapped down divorce papers on the kitchen table. Right next to my cold pork chops and broccoli." I huff through my nose.
Reese can't hide the judgment and repulsion on her face. "Oh my god, Leo..."
My eyes glass over as I stare off at the coppery hills in the distance. "She didn't want anything—not her clothes or her car or even a framed picture of her goddamned son. She didn't need anything. She was running off with some business tycoon who could more than provide for her. So she left me with everything. The good things and the bad things. She just signed it all away, everything down to her parental rights.” I sigh harshly. “I didn't have a say in the matter. All that was left for me to do was to put my signature on the dotted line. And I did it because I won't fight for a woman who would so readily leave her child behind so she could go jet-setting around the world.” I shove my fingers through my hair. “Anyway the papers are still being processed." My tone goes sarcastic. “But Mara’s new man is friends with a judge who’s gonna put a rush on the process. Lucky me.”
When my focus returns to Reese, her nose is red and her bottom lip is quivering. "What a terrible woman..." she whispers hoarsely.
Alarmed, I step closer to her. "Jesus, Reese!" Without thinking, I slide my thumb over her mouth. "I didn't mean to make you cry." She shivers harder now. It might be the intensity of her compassion or it might be the electric current that flows between us when I touch her. I'm not sure.
A lock of hair falls into her face and she looks up at me bashfully. "Ignore me," she laughs quietly. "I'm the girl who cries during orange juice commercials. I'm a certifiable mess." Some of my tension fades when she wipes her eyes and her smile grows a little wider. But the tension is replaced just as quickly by a longing that thrums deep in my marrow.
I need to get out of here.
Brenton trudges back over with his thumb in his mouth. He plops down in the grass at my feet, discouraged in his unfruitful attempts to trap the butterflies. He reaches over and grabs another tomato.
"Okay, enough," I scold him. "You won't have any room for dinner." And lord knows we can't skip dinner because cold pepperoni pizza is just choc full of vitamins and minerals. "Come on. We're gonna let Reese get back to her gardening."
He pouts and his shoulders slump but he follows me up the stairs anyway. Our neighbor calls out after him. "Bye, Brenton."
"Bye." He stomps inside and I shake my head. The little boy sure has an attitude.
My eyes lock on Reese’s face and the simplicity of her beauty strikes again, like a blow to the chest. I conceal it under my cool façade, giving her a casual wave over my shoulder as I'm about to step into the house.
"Wait!" she blurts out.
Turning to face her, I watch as she climbs the stairs looking a little shaky and unsure. Her pink tongue slips out across her lips and she pulls in a sharp breath.
Then she leans in and envelops me in a hug.
My stomach coils up and each of my internal organs shut down in unison as the sweet scent of her perfume and her sweat and her delicious pheromones halo around me. My cock goes to steel when her soft tits squeeze against my torso and the top of her head brushes my chin. This is so fucked up.
She pulls back and gives me a quick smile. Before I can figure out what to think or say, she's barrelling down the stairs, grabbing her basket and disappearing into the house next door.
Chapter Eight
Reese
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I carefully fold the new panties and bras that Nova and Sophia gifted me and put them into the drawer. My upgraded underwear collection is sexy and flirty. Lace, satin and little bows. So pretty.
Anyway, I figured that while I’m admiring my fancy, new loincloths, I might as well declutter my panty drawer. Glancing down at the throwaway pile at my feet—the threadbare cotton boy shorts, the standard-issue unpadded bras, even the neon green see-through negligee set I bought when I was trying to convince Martin that he was not, in fact, gay—it becomes clear; my friends were right about the pitiful state of my underwear situation.
I’m actually excited about putting on my sexy new lingerie. And the idea of a man—the tall, angsty, Paul Walker lookalike next door, in particular—seeing me in these pieces makes my stomach flutter. After my red, granny panties made such a dramatic first impression, I sort of feel like I need to redeem myself, restore my image.
Not that Leo Montgomery spends his time musing about me or my panties. He has much more important things on his mind. Heavy things. The guy is a single dad going through a freakin’ divorce.
And besides, he probably thinks I’m a nut job. Yesterday, he shared a little piece of his story with me—just the fact that he’s getting divorced—and next thing you know, I was crying. And hugging him. Oh god.
There’s no way in hell that Leo is musing about me or my panties.
Still, when I bend to scoop up the unopened pack of condoms that fell from my drawer in the middle of cleaning, I don’t toss it onto the garbage pile. Despite my prickly conscience, I tuck it into the back of my drawer.
Y'know—just in case.
I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear a crash coming from my kitchen. What the fuck? Nobody’s supposed to be here. Since mom and dad moved to the Springfield, I’ve lived here alone. My pulse jackhammers and my awareness snaps into high alert.
Quickly scanning the room for a weapon, my eyes land on a pair of spike-heeled leather boots Nova left over here at some point. I grab one shoe in each hand and inch cautiously toward my bedroom door. The thought to call for help doesn't even occur to me. Adrenaline does funny things to a girl.
All I know is that if anyone’s getting gagged and tied up in the basement on this fine Saturday evening, it ain’t gonna be me. This burglar chose the wrong girl to mess with. I'm ready to clobber a bitch to death.
I avoid all the creaky floorboards as I move stealthily in the direction of the staircase. Standing on my tiptoes, I grip the wooden railing and bend all the way forward to peer over the banister. I see a tall, broad body leaning into my refrigerator.
That big head, I’d know anywhere.
Frigging Charlie!
Tossing the menacing boots aside, I stomp down the stairs making my presence known. My brother’s face emerges from the fridge and he gives me a fleeting look. "Don't you have sliced pickles?" He sticks his head back inside and continues to rummage around.
I stand on the other side of the door with my arms folded across my chest. "Firstly, hello..."
He glances up at me and smirks. "Hey."
"Secondly—what are you doing in my refrigerator?" I ask pointedly.
“Just grabbing some condiments." Closing the door, he waves around a jar of mayonnaise and a bottle of ketchup.
"Didn't you pass the grocery store on your way over here?"
My brother is maddening. My annoyance has nothing to do with the mayonnaise or the ketchup or the sliced pickles. It's about the fact that Charlie doesn't respect my personal space and he surely doesn’t respect my groceries. He still sees me as the little girl with no front teeth, crying and pumping her legs as fast as she can on her pink tricycle because she can't keep up with her big brother on the way to the park. Only I'm not that little girl anymore.
I’m a grown woman. I vote. I pay my taxes. I recycle. I pay the electricity bill (not always on time because sometimes zulilly.com happens to the best of us). But neither of my siblings sees that. To them, I’m a kid.
He shrugs a shoulder. "Brenton is hungry and Leo is doing that whole sulky caveman thing he does. So, I've taken over the grill.”
My anger immediately softens at this information. My new neighbors aren't having an easy time adjusting. I can tell. Leo always looks tired and exasperated like he's running after a train that just won't slow down to let him jump on. And Brent—bless his heart—he's the cutest little boy but it's obvious that a woman's touch is missing from his life. He's got stains on all his little T-shirts and his jeans are ripped at the ankles.
It's painfully obvious that they need help.
I fight a constant battle to look the other way. My instinct is to intervene. But I don't want to overstep. I’ve already embarrassed myself enough during the limited interactions that I’ve had with them since they moved here.
The Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set: The Complete Blue Collar Bachelors Series Page 5