The Boy Next Door
(A Cougar Heights Novel)
By Melody Banks
Text Copyright © 2013 Girl’s Night In Books, LLC
All Rights Reserved
www.melodybanks.com
The Story
I’m about to do a bad, bad thing.
I’ll hate myself for this later and I know it. But, still, I just can’t stop. The temptation is too great.
“Order ready for Jane,” the barista says, handing me a triple caramel latte and double chocolate chunk cookie.
“Thanks,” I say, taking it from his hands.
Day three of my diet and already I’m already cheating. I grab the drink and the cookie, and sigh, inwardly promising myself I’ll go to the gym for twice as long tomorrow. Right now, all I want to do is find a table in the corner where I can peacefully enjoy my treat.
“Hi, Mrs. Selby.”
I jump at the sound of my name. I whirl around and there, standing only a few inches from me is one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen. Boys. Make that one of the hottest boys I’ve ever seen. He’s barely looks legal. He’s smiling intensely and staring at me as though we’re friends.
I blink, doing a double take. Where do I know him from? He looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him. I watch as his grin slowly changes to a smirk. He’s obviously enjoying the confusion on my face.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” he asks. “I guess I didn’t make much of an impression on you, did I?” he says, folding his arms across his chest in mock accusation.
I feel horribly rude – I’m usually so good with names and faces – but I have no earthly idea who this guy is.
“It’s Austin,” he tells me. “Austin Gates. Chad’s friend from next door. Ring a bell now?”
Austin Gates?! I nearly drop my coffee and cookie.
I’m sure my mouth is hanging wide open, but I’m powerless to hide the shock. There is no way this guy standing in front of me – with muscles that go on for days– could actually be Austin Gates.
Scrawny, tiny little Austin Gates from next door – the boy who was joined at the hip with my son, Chad, before they both went away to college two years ago. Austin Gates, the definition of a “computer nerd,” who was so short and scrawny they used to call him Screech, like after the character from Saved by the Bell.
“Austin?” I ask, still uncertain. “I’m so sorry…I…I didn’t recognize you.”
“I get that a lot,” he says.
Yeah, I’ll bet, I think.
“I always forget that people from Pine Heights remember me the way I used to look. Since I haven’t been home in so long nobody’s seen the new me.” He laughs. “I guess it is kind of big a change.”
“Yes, it’s quite the change,” I tell him.
“So how’ve you been, Mrs. Selby?”
“I’m good,” I tell him. “And it’s Ms. Selby now, not Mrs. Rick and I got divorced a while back. But you can call me Jane.”
Austin raises his eyebrows. “Really? So you and Mr. Selby are no longer together?”
I shake my head. “Not anymore. Rick cheated on me with his dental hygienist.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s fine. Our relationship had been over for a while, anyway. We were basically living together as roommates.”
Why am I telling him this? The words are just tumbling out. I bite my lip to keep from talking.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, Ms. Selby, I imagine a woman like you won’t stay single long.”
“Jane,” I correct him. “And thanks.” I don’t tell him that I’ve already been single for a long time – longer than I care to admit. It’s been eighteen months since Rick left, and in that time I’ve been on a grand total of one date…and that date was nothing to write home about. I’m thirty-six years old, which is hardly ancient, but it can feel that way sometimes. Being single for eighteen months wouldn’t be so bad if I at least had something exciting going on in my life, but my days and nights are totally routine. I won’t even tell you how long it’s been since I’ve had sex.
“So, Jane,” Austin says, enunciating my name in a way that makes my heart race, “Did I tell you I’m moving back to Pine Heights?”
“You are?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. I’m having a hard time breathing properly, although I’m not sure why. There’s something about the way he’s staring at me that’s making me slightly nervous. “So, um…uh, does that mean you’re transferring to the local college,” I stammer. Last I heard he was at Notre Dame.
“No,” he says. “I’m taking a year or two off. I started an internet company my freshman semester and it’s been doing well…really well, actually. Well enough that I was able to buy my parents’ old house. I just closed yesterday.”
You mean the house next door to me? I don’t have time to say it out loud, before he adds, “So I guess this makes us neighbors again. Assuming you still live there.”
“I do,” I answer, balancing my coffee in my hands. My grip has gotten suddenly unsteady, and I’m nervous that I might drop the hot beverage on the floor. I’d seen the Gates house go up for sale a few months ago when Austin’s parents moved out. It’s been sitting on the market empty ever since. The economy’s tough right now, so it’s not easy to move property. When I saw the for sale sign come down, I assumed the Gates had decided to lease it out. I never even considered they might be selling it to their son.
“Awesome!” Austin says. “Well, neighbor, you and I have to get reacquainted.”
“That sounds good,” I say.
“How about I buy you a drink?” he asks.
“Oh, I’ve already got one, thanks.” I hold up my coffee.
“I wasn’t talking about a coffee….I meant a real drink.”
What? Now I’m totally thrown off. Is Austin Gates asking me out? No, it can’t be. Before I can answer he says, “Just kidding! I don’t turn twenty-one for another t(hree weeks. So coffee’s about the strongest drink I can buy.”
Oh, God. I feel like a fool. Of course he’s not asking me out. I’m sixteen years older than, his mother’s friend. I remember how old people in their thirties seemed when I was in my twenties. To Austin, I might as well be a hundred.
“Anyway, I should probably get going.”
“Me too,” he says. “I’ve got to hit the gym.”
“I just came from there,” I admit. “Of course, I’m completely undoing it at the moment.” I hold up the cookie.
“A little splurge now and then doesn’t hurt. Where do you work out?”
I tell him I’m a member at the gym downtown.
“You ought to come by my gym sometime,” he says. “I just joined Xpedia Fitness and they gave me a bunch of free passes. We could work out together.”
“Sure,” I say, not expecting anything to come of this. I certainly don’t expect him to suggest a specific time.
“How about Thursday? I’m moving in the morning, but I could meet that evening if you’re free?”
This catches me off guard. I truly thought this was one of those empty offers people make, kind of like suggesting “let’s get lunch” when you know it will never happen.
I’m tempted to say no. The idea of meeting Austin to work out is more than a little bit intimating – he’s half my age and he’s got muscles that go on for days. There’s no way I’ll be able to keep up. I’m about to invent an excuse, when I think, Oh, what the hell? What have I got to lose? It’s just a harmless workout. And from the looks of Austin he definitely knows he’s way around a gym – I’ve been wanting to step up my diet and exercise routine, so there’s no reason not to
go for it.
“I’m free Thursday,” I tell him. “Although, you have to promise not to leave me in the dust.”
He laughs. “Hey, don’t knock yourself.” He gives me a quick once over. “For all we know this might be the other way around, you might be the one leaving me in the dust. I hope this doesn’t cross a line, but I have to say, Ms. Selby, you’ve got an incredible body for a woman your age,” he says approvingly.
“Thanks,” I say, trying not to bristle at the “for a woman your age” part. I’m sure he means well, but this just reinforces the fact that there are sixteen years between us – that I’m the mother of his high school best friend and that I am, technically, old enough to be his mother, too. I also note that he’s started calling me Ms. Selby again.
“So I’ll see you on Thursday then,” Austin says. “Six o’clock?”
“Sounds great,” I tell him.
“I’m looking forward to it.” He waves as I walk out the door. “Bye, Jane.”
I wave back. “Goodbye.”
# # #
“I believe the official term is cougar,” my friend Lisa says. It’s later that evening and we’re knocking back Coors Lights at Raylan’s, a cute little bar located a few blocks away from my house.
I’ve just finished telling her about my run-in with Austin that afternoon, and Lisa, per usual, is giving me her no hold’s barred opinion. It’s what I love best about her.
“Forget cougar,” I say, groaning inwardly. “I believe the official word is jailbait. The poor boy’s not even twenty-one yet! I could get arrested.”
“Nothing illegal about a twenty year old. Just so long as you don’t bring him here and order him liquor,” Lisa says. “And, besides, he’ll be twenty-one in three weeks. That’s not very long. You could definitely date him.”
“Who said anything about dating!” I exclaim. “I bumped into him at the coffee shop, we had a little friendly exchange and agreed to meet up to exercise. That’s all.”
“That sounds like a date to me.”
“He said he was kidding about the drink part.”
Lisa takes a few sips of her Coors Light. “But he wasn’t kidding about working out with you Thursday, was he?”
“No. We’re meeting at six.”
“Listen, guys don’t go out of their way to do things with women they aren’t interested in. That’s just a basic fact. If he wants to hang out with you – and made a firm date – that definitely means something.”
“Maybe it just means he feels sorry for my fat ass?” I laugh. “He did catch me pigging out after hitting the gym.”
Lisa rolls her eyes. “Come on, will you quit it with that already? You have a fantastic body, Jane. Don’t sell yourself short. I’d kill to look like you do.”
I know she’s being nice, but I can’t help but break down the compliment in my mind. Despite what she says, I know what she really means is, I’d kill to look like you do, considering we’re almost forty years old. I don’t have the body of a nineteen year old girl – not even close. And despite spending countless hours in the gym, I’ve yet to attain anything even resembling flat abs. I know my body is good-to-decent, but we’re grading on a curve here: compared to girls half my age – the kind of girls Austin would date – I don’t stand a chance.
And why am I thinking about this anyway? It’s not like I’m going to go after Austin.
I take another swig of my beer, and try not to think about the guy who’s not even old enough to order one.
# # #
God, I wish I could kiss him.
I’m afraid I just might do it, to tell you the truth. Afraid I’ll snap, have one of those impulse control breaks and grab him, right then and there.
It’s Thursday evening, and, just like we planned, Austin and I have met up for our exercise ‘date.’ I don’t normally dress up to hit the gym, but today I’ve taken care to do my makeup and hair, and to put on my best exercise clothes – a tight, sexy shirt red shirt with form-fitting black pants.
But the jokes’ on me.
Within five minutes of starting our workout, I’m a sweaty horrible mess. Austin’s really putting me through my paces. I can see how he got his incredible body – but this workout is insane! I like to think of myself as being in good shape, but I’m on the verge of passing out!
Thank God our workout is almost over. I don’t know if I can handle much more of this!
And not just because of the routine. Being this close to Austin is driving me equally wild.
He’s mere inches from me, his toned, tight body practically on top of mine. His arms are around my waist, and his hands are placed firmly on top of mine as he guides me through bicep curls with a free weight barbell.
“Just five more reps, Jane,” Austin says, as I push back against the mounting pressure. “You’ve got this!”
He’s guiding me through the motions, half supporting my weight as I struggle to make it through the final minutes of our work-out.
You know how they talk about Runner’s High, that euphoric burst of endorphins you get during amazing work-out? Well, right now I’m feeling something of the opposite. I suppose it could be described as more of a Nauseous Low: dizziness, cramps, fatigue and near-vomiting.
“Good job!” Austin says, as I collapse into a heap on the mat. We’ve just finished a grueling 90-minute session, and I’m beat. We did legs, triceps, biceps…and a bunch of other muscles I ca(n’t remember, but I’m sure I’ll know on a first name basis tomorrow when they’re killing me.
“Don’t you feel great?” Austin asks enthusiastically.
Great? I want to laugh.
I feel a lot of things, but great is not one of them. I’m dying to get home and into the shower, although my arms are shaking so badly I’m not even sure how I’m going to be able to drive my car.
“Uh, something like that,” I mutter, trying to force a smile. I rub my fingers over my left calf, massaging the aching muscle.
“Take tomorrow off,” Austin instructs, “and we can work out again Saturday if you want.”
Saturday? He’s ready to do this torture again so soon? “Okay,” I find myself agreeing despite the pain. “What time.”
“Six again?” he asks.
That’s prime date time. I’m surprised he doesn’t have any big plans.
“Sounds good,” I tell him.
“Great!” Austin says. He plops down on the mat beside me. “Here,” he gestures toward my calf, “let me show you how to do that.” He takes my lower leg into his hands and begins rubbing.
I try hard to keep my mind focused on what he’s showing me, to concentrate only on the technique. “Your touch is too light,” he says, kneading the muscle. “You’ve got to really get in deep.”
I wonder if Austin realizes how sexual all of this sounds? Of course he does, I reason. Men are never oblivious to that kind of stuff. And, besides, I like it better that way. In my fantasy I like to believe that Austin’s having the same kind of thoughts I am. That even if they’re fleeting, he’s let his mind wander, to what it might be like….
But all too soon his sixty-second massage is over, and I’m in the car headed home, shaky arms barely managing to grip the wheel.
# # #
“He’s not jailbait!” Lisa says. She laughs. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation again. You’ve gotta stop saying that, Jane. He’s twenty. Twenty! Get it through your thick head, Jane. That’s more than legal.”
It’s the following night and Lisa and I are out celebrating our friend Missy’s birthday. Missy has two kids and a husband at home, so we’re making it an early night – just Mexican food and a drink or two and then we’ll be going our separate ways. Which is fine by me, actually. I’m still sore from yesterday’s workout. In fact, if anything I’m feeling worse now that the soreness has had time to set in.
“He can’t even drink,” I say, picking up my margarita and tapping the side of the glass to make a point.
“Who cares if
he can drink? Do you know what kind of stamina guys his age have?” Missy chimes in. “I’d kill for a twenty year old.”
Her words run through my mind. Do you know what kind of stamina guys his age have? Believe it or not, this thought hasn’t occurred to me, but it’s an incredible turn-on. After seeing him in the gym, I can only imagine what his body could do in the bedroom.
“They can go for hours,” Missy continues. “Hours. They never wear out. And right after they finish, they’re ready to go again. You’re talking twenty-four hour hard-on,” She sighs dreamily. “It’s incredible.”
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Lisa teases.
“Hey, I was young once,” she says.
I was, too, but I don’t remember anything like that. ‘Twenty-four hard-on’s’ weren’t exactly part of my youth.
Despite getting pregnant at sixteen, I wasn’t exactly the wild child you might imagine. I was a high school sophomore when I met the man who would become Chad’s father. His name was William, and we were deeply in love. We talked of marriage, a life together, children…in the end, only one of those things came true.
The other dreams died when William did, at eighteen years old in a car accident the summer after graduation. We’d only just made love for the first time a month earlier – my gift to him for getting his diploma. In some ways, I thought of Chad as William’s gift to me. Even though he was gone, he’d left a part of himself behind, a part I’d have forever.
Those years after his death had been horrific, but I regretted nothing about my life. Those days were far from easy – I was a single mom before I’d even learned how to drive a car. Raising Chad quickly became my entire life, and I was happy with that, but some part of me still wondered what I’d missed out on during all those years.
I push the thoughts out of my head. This is Missy’s birthday dinner, and we’re supposed to be having a good time. As much as my heart is breaking inside – it still breaks every time I think of William – I don’t want to bring everyone down and ruin Missy’s night by talking about the sadness from my past.
Jane's Austen: The Boy Next Door (hot erotica) Page 1