Neighbors with the Single Dad (The Single Dads of Seattle Book 8)

by Whitley Cox

  Motherfucker. He hadn’t thought of that.

  You’re also getting ahead of yourself. She’s probably married.

  Probably.

  He turned the corner around the eight-foot-high cedar hedge that separated his yard from the neighbor’s. The big moving truck took up one side of the driveway, while a white Toyota Sienna took up the other.

  Hmm. A minivan.

  The wheels of the soccer mom.

  He walked around the moving truck, past the dropped ramp and glanced inside. A bright red and blue wooden toy box with the initials K and L on the front of it surrounded by painted pictures of trains, boats and airplanes sat stacked beneath a bunch of cardboard boxes.

  The boxes were labeled. “Master bedroom.” “Kids’ room.” “Kitchen.”

  Okay, so there were definitely kids moving in.

  That was a plus.

  How old?

  Boys?

  Girls?

  It didn’t much matter. Freddie made friends with everyone. But it would be nice for his son to find children similar to his age to play with. Katrin lived in a condo now, and there were no kids there. By the time Freddie came to stay with Scott, he was champing at the bit to run around the backyard.

  Scott shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet in the driveaway covered in boxes and totes. The garage door was up, the inside full of boxes too.

  Had he had this much shit when he moved in? It didn’t feel like it.

  He glanced into the open hatch of the minivan, with beach buckets and shovels in a mesh bag, what appeared to be two boyish-looking children’s bikes (not that that meant anything) and … a weird-shaped sink? Black with a bizarre dip on one side.

  Voices from the house and the open door had him spinning on his heel, the feeling of being caught ratcheting up his spine. Not that he was really doing anything wrong—besides being a bit nosy.

  Damn it, the neighborhood was wearing off on him.

  A woman with red hair up in a bun, black yoga pants and a pink tank top emerged from the house, her green eyes narrowing the moment she spotted him.

  This was not the woman from earlier—she was still hot though. And she looked a hell of a lot like Eva—or was he just obsessed now and thinking every woman looked like her?

  Scott waved like an idiot. “Hi, I’m your new neighbor.” He stuck out his hand. “Welcome to the neighborhood. I just live next door.” Like an even bigger idiot, he hooked the thumb of his free hand over his shoulder, should she not know where next door was.

  Idiot.

  Her look remained wary, but she took his hand. “Celeste. And this isn’t my house. I’m just helping my sister move.”

  Oh, sister. Interesting.

  “Eves!” Celeste called into the house. “Come meet your new neighbor.” With a sly grin, she released Scott’s hand and continued on toward the big moving truck.

  “Huh?” The woman in the ball cap, white tank top and dark green yoga pants popped her head around the corner, her eyes bright, smile stunning, and breasts … holy fuck! It was her!

  Scott’s cock jerked, his heart lurched, and he nearly tripped where he stood.

  Her recognition of him was nearly as instant, but she didn’t appear to be having the same kind of reaction.

  “Eva!” he blurted out, taking a couple of steps toward her.

  She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and glanced down at her black, slip-on tennis shoes. “Hi, Scott.”

  “You’re my new neighbor?”

  She still hadn’t looked at him. She toed at a rock on the driveway. “Looks that way, huh?”

  “You never thought you’d see me again.” This was all too bizarre. He had to find out why she’d left him the way she had. Why she’d snuck out of her own hotel room without even a goodbye, let alone her number.

  Then again, she had been rather clear about it just being one night. She hadn’t even given him her last name. She wanted to remain Just Eva. Had that been her plan all along? Sleep with him and then scram before the continental breakfast started?

  “I … ” She lifted her gaze to his. “I just wanted one night for myself.”

  Right. “And now … ”

  She blinked and shook her head, a small, demure smile tugging at one corner of her lips. “And now you’re my neighbor, and the thought of popping over for a cup of sugar takes on an entirely new connotation.” That demure smile filled out and tilted the other corner of her lips. “It’s good to see you, Scott.”

  He exhaled. Thank fuck. That could have gone in an entirely different direction, and he was so glad it didn’t. “It’s so good to see you, Eva.”

  She eyed him beneath her ball cap. “You busy?”

  For sex? Uh, no, he wasn’t busy. He had, however, just jerked off twice this morning to thoughts of her though. Once when he knew it was her, the second time to her ass when he didn’t know it was her.

  He gave a quick mental check to his dick, twitched it and thought about boobs. It moved. He was good to go.

  Phew.

  With a smile he knew made the ladies swoon, he stepped toward her and tucked his finger beneath her chin. “For you, never.”

  She bit her lip and tilted her head up, gazing at him with a look that had filled his dreams and fantasies for the past six weeks. She reached out and wrapped a hand around his bicep, squeezing. He flexed, and her green eyes flared. “Do you wanna … ”

  Fuck, he was practically salivating now. Panting like a dog staring at a ribeye left on the counter to rest.

  “Absolutely.”

  She squeezed his bicep again. “Awesome, thank you. We can really use the extra set of hands. Boxes are labeled, but anything that isn’t labeled can just go in the garage.” Then she released his arm and skipped—yes, skipped—off toward the moving truck.

  Scott’s mouth dropped open, and he whipped around to gape at her. “You played me!”

  She spun around but continued to walk backward, an enormous, gorgeous grin on her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Then she ducked into the moving truck, leaving Scott standing there in the driveway with a big, stupid smile on his face and a feeling he hadn’t felt in a very long time heating up in his heart.

  How the hell was it even possible?

  He was hotter than when she’d met him six weeks ago. Sexier. More doablse than ever. And boy, oh boy, did she want to do him—again.

  And again, and again, and again.

  Unable to put her finger on it—though she really wanted to—Eva stared at the sexy line of Scott’s beard-covered throat as he tipped back his mug of wine and took a long sip, a half-eaten slice of pizza in his other hand, poised in midair.

  Pizza and wine in mugs—it seemed to be a recurring thing between them, if you could call doing something twice recurring.

  His bicep flexed as he lifted his arm to take a bite of his pizza, and she was forced to bear down hard and repress her sudden urge to moan.

  Had he been beefing up at the gym over the last few weeks? Was that it? He seemed bigger. More toned and bulked. She’d certainly caught herself more than once gawking at his muscles as he unloaded boxes and furniture all afternoon. And then when he got to work assembling her sons’ beds and the cords in his forearms stood out, she nearly had an orgasm on the spot.

  Whatever it was, be it bigger muscles, a fuller beard, shinier hair or just the fact that she’d missed him these last six weeks, Scott was one fine-looking man.

  The movers were long gone, and Celeste had gone home to check on her fourteen-year-old daughter Sabrina, who’d been watching Lucas and Kellen all day. But Scott had stuck around. Apparently, he didn’t get his son until Monday evening, so he “had all the time in the world” to help Eva unpack and assemble furniture.

  They were sitting on her couch in the living room, surrounded by boxes, with all the lights on, the radio playing and a bottle of wine and box of pizza between them. She had no clue where her wineglasses were, so after opening a
box marked kitchen and finding two Christmas mugs, she opened the bottle of wine she’d received from a client for doing their wedding makeup and poured them each a mug.

  “So,” Scott started, checking her out over the rim of his mug, “you going to tell me why you did a wham, bam, thank you, sir? Was it not good and you couldn’t bring yourself to face me in the morning?” A sexy smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth.

  Oh, he knew damn well that it had been good. Fuck, it’d been ten million times better than good. It’d been riveting. Earth-shattering, soul-claiming. Sex with Scott in that one night surpassed any and every other sexual experience she’d ever had. He had literally ruined her for any and all other men, and she’d spent the last six weeks kicking herself profusely for bailing on him without getting his number—or at the very least his last name.

  “Hmm, Just Eva. Was it not up to your expectations?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? I just … like I said, I just wanted one night for myself, and I thought that maybe it would be awkward in the morning.”

  He pursed his lips in an attempt not to smirk. “Or it could have been an incredible morning. Wink, wink.” He smiled that sinfully sexy smile that had won her over, that had made her strip naked and let him come all over her chest—and face.

  “And it probably would have been. I’m sorry if I made you feel used. If I made you feel like a piece of meat.”

  And she was sorry. Sorry that she’d tortured herself with the memories of his tongue, fingers and cock this past month and a half rather than have access to the real things. One of her kids usually ended up in her bed in the middle of the night, so she couldn’t even take matters into her own hands to satisfy the craving. She was dying here staring at the real deal, knowing all he was capable of.

  But he didn’t seem too put out and shrugged. “As long as you haven’t suddenly become a vegan, I don’t mind being treated like a piece of meat.” His dark brown gaze turned avid and his smile diabolical. “But I’m no flank steak. I’m a porterhouse, woman. Prime cut. Top choice. Straight from the plains of Texas.” Then he mooed low and long before snorting like a bull and stomping his foot on the hardwood.

  She tossed her head back and laughed. Damn, he was funny. And sweet, and a gentleman, and so freaking sexy. Her memory drifted back to his cock sliding in between her breasts—he was also a dirty, kinky bugger. But that only made her like him all the more. A multifaceted man with endless sides.

  So long as all those sides were likable (unlike Todd, a charmer one minute, a demon the next), she could really see herself falling for Scott.

  “Well,” she started, “I happen to make a mean beef stew with a flank steak. It’s all in how you treat your meat. Cook it slow and low. Until it’s so tender and juicy it melts in your mouth.”

  That diabolical grin grew wider and even more sinister, which made the wine-drunk butterflies (because butterflies were notorious lightweights) take haphazard flight in her belly.

  “There were a lot of innuendos piled in there,” he said, his voice deadpan.

  She stopped, thought about what she’d just said. Her brows lifted on her forehead. He was right. Slow and low. How you treat your meat. Melts in your mouth. Tender and juicy. She’d just served him a whole lot of dirty right there, when she’d really just been talking about making a stew.

  Speaking of, she needed to find her slow cooker. Kellen loved her beef stew.

  The song on the radio changed, and Scott’s brows danced on his forehead before he set his mug down on a cardboard box labeled living room crap, crammed the last bite of pizza into his mouth and stood up. “Come on, Just Eva, let’s dance.” He grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet before she could protest, taking her to a more cleared-out area in front of the hearth and wrapping his arms around her, setting them off to a fun sway in time with the beat.

  Laughing, because what else could she do, she began to dance with him. “You’re nuts, you know that?” Her hands fell to his broad shoulders at the same time his leg wedged between hers.

  That panty-dropping smile of his was now just inches from her mouth. “Nuts, fun, a great dancer, I’ll take whatever compliment you’re willing to throw my way. I’m easy.” He scrunched up his face, bobbed his head and sang along with the chorus. “Besides, when the song literally tells you to dance in the living room, you have to listen.”

  “You know this is the Jonas Brothers, right?”

  “So?” He shrugged. “I’m secure enough in my masculinity to enjoy a good Jo-Bro song when it comes on the radio. I’d dance to ’N Sync too, if ‘Bye Bye Bye’ came on. My little sister loved them. Same with BSB. Say what you will, but their shit is catchy.”

  “You have a sister?”

  Hmm, what had Scott been like as a big brother? A bully? Overprotective? A best friend?

  He pulled her closer at the same time he nodded. “I do have a sister. Bianca is two years younger than me, and my brother Liam is two years older. I’m the handsome, people-pleasing, well-adjusted, funniest middle child.”

  That made her laugh. Scott made her laugh a lot. “Well, you seem awfully well-adjusted to me.”

  “And handsome and funniest. You forgot those qualities.” His feigned expression of being offended dissolved as soon as she began to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes semi-closed, and his head lolled back. “Oh, baby, you know just how to make this bull moo.”

  She snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

  The song over the radio ended, and then the DJ began to blather on about some liquidation sale at a furniture store in Auburn. Scott didn’t pull away from her though. Didn’t let go. If anything, he pulled her tighter against him, his playful gaze taking a serious turn. “I love your smile,” he whispered, his wine and pizza breath once again something she ordinarily wouldn’t have liked on another man, but something she had no qualms with when it was coming from Scott.

  They stopped moving altogether but remained connected, remained touching. She swallowed hard and lifted her gaze from his super-sexy beard to his super-sexy eyes. “Scott … ”

  “I like you, Eva,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple. “I can be a piece of meat if that’s what you need. I can be good neighbor who loans you his leaf blower or a cup a sugar … or … ” His lips skimmed down her jaw. “I can be more.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her head toward the ceiling, allowing his mouth greater access to her neck. His teeth raked across her throat to the sensitive hollow, where he swirled his tongue and then traced it across her exposed clavicle.

  It’d be so easy to just let him guide her back to the couch, tear his shorts and T-shirt off and have her way with him. Straddle his waist and sink down until he filled her. But she couldn’t …

  Could she?

  A groan she had zero control over bubbled up from deep inside her chest as his tongue wended its way back up the side of her neck to just below her ear.

  “Eva … ”

  “Scott … ” She gripped the ends of his hair and pulled until he lifted his head. The look of lust in his eyes was all she needed, was all that was required for her to crush her mouth to his, pry his lips apart and kiss him like he held all the solutions to the world’s problems.

  His hands wrapped firmer around her waist until their bodies were pressed together, his arousal tucked tight against her thigh. He returned her kisses with a fervor she felt right down to her toes, taking over the kiss, leading her lips, her tongue, molding her body just the right way so that everything felt a million times better. And all from just a simple kiss.

  Her hands fell from the nape of his neck to his chest, and she made to push him to the couch, have her way with him, feel even better than she already felt. This house was meant to be a new beginning in every way—why not christen it with a man who knew how to make her body hum?

  But he didn’t budge like she thought he would and instead he broke the kiss, pulling away and running his fingers through
his hair. “Thank you for the pizza and wine, Eva, but I should get home.” He headed toward the sliding glass door that led out onto the sundeck. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” Then, just like that, he was gone. Out into the brisk April night, his footsteps on the wooden stairs down to the backyard echoing through the house.

  And Eva just stood there, her eyes fixed to the closed door, mouth open, nipples hard, pussy throbbing.

  He just left?

  How could he just … leave?

  She glanced at the bottle of wine on the counter in the kitchen and headed for it, her brain a cloud of fuzzy confusion. Did Scott just turn her down?

  She unscrewed the wine bottle and tipped it up to her lips just as there was knock at the door, causing her to choke on the wine in her throat and cough most of it up onto her white tank top.

  Was it Todd?

  She glanced around her box-filled kitchen for a weapon of some kind. Didn’t the man know she had a restraining order against him? He was supposed to stay a minimum of five hundred feet away from her at all times. Celeste handled the hand-offs of Kellen and Lucas so Eva didn’t have to even see her ex.

  But coming here, to her new house when she was all by herself, was totally his MO.

  Opening up a cardboard box, she found a big, heavy kitchen knife and made her way to the front door to peer through the peephole.

  It most definitely wasn’t Todd.

  Setting the knife down on the hutch she’d found at a flea market and had chalk-painted last week. “Did you forget something?” she asked, flinging open the door to reveal a sexy, smiling Scott.

  He nodded and looped his arm around her waist, hauling her against him. “Yeah, this.” He crushed his mouth to hers and kissed her even more wildly, more passionately than before, stealing the breath clean from her lungs and turning her legs to jelly.

  When they finally came up for air, she was lightheaded and more turned on than ever.

  “I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Eva, but just know that if I had my way, I’d be more. I’m going to give you time to think. One night with no names, no expectations is one thing, but we’re neighbors now. You need to really think about what it is you want.” He swiped his thumb over her bottom lip. “Let me know if you need anything. I’m right next door.” Then he kissed her again, once, closed-mouthed but no less fierce, only to release her—against her will—and head down the path to the driveaway, disappearing into the night and around the hedge that separated their houses.