by Nikki Chase
“Max!” I open the closets and kitchen cabinets. Now I regret not asking Jessica what kind of a dog Max is. He could be a horse-sized Great Dane or a pint-sized Chihuahua.
Okay, so the dog is either not inside the house or he doesn’t respond to a stranger calling him. Maybe he’ll come if Jessica calls him. With the house empty, it’s safe for her to go back inside, at least for now.
The police should be able to tell us if this is a common occurrence around here. And if it is, she should have nothing to worry about since the perpetrator probably wasn’t specifically targeting her.
“Max!” I walk outside and stand on the sidewalk. I see movement in the shrubs in front of the house across the street. I squint and see a hint of something white and brown moving. I quietly close in, careful not to scare whatever’s in there.
Just as I’m about to reach out my hand to make an opening in the hedge, a wet nose appears. Then, a pair of friendly eyes on a background of shiny white, brown, and black fur. A pink tongue slides out and licks my hand, covering it with dog drool.
“Hi, Max,” I say while I pat the dog’s head. I check the name on the collar. Yup. This is the right dog. “Good boy, Max.”
I hear the click clack of a woman’s heels on the asphalt and turn around as my hand pets Max’s head.
“Oh my God. You found him,” Jessica says. She exhales with relief, her eyes filling with water as she gets closer, her eyes fixed on Max as if she’s afraid he’s going to disappear if she so much as blinks. “Thank you.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I say.
As Jessica crouches right beside me, the bushes in front of us starts to shake, presumably from Max’s tail wagging. He emerges from the hedge and she leans down to hug him. “Oh, Max. You’re okay.”
“We should move. You don’t want to destroy this nice hedge,” I say as I stand up, looking at Max as he wiggles with the back half of his body still buried inside the shrubs and his face smushed in Jessica’s chest.
Lucky bastard. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I wish I was that dog right now.
“Come, Max. Let’s go home,” Jessica says, getting up. Max follows her out of the hedge and looks expectantly at her. Jessica turns her attention toward me and gives me the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen.
Before I can even deal with the warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest caused by that genuine smile, she throws her hands around me and hugs me tight. She says, “Thank you.”
I swallow as I try to ignore how nice it feels to have her body pressed up against my chest. Warmth radiates from her slender body. Her hair smells like creamy vanilla, like what lingered on my sheets after that night. I inhale the scent of her and wish I could take her home, keep her in my arms all night.
The sound of a car turning onto the street ends the moment. We both look toward the bend, where a police car is approaching. Jessica pulls away and breaks the hug, but not before giving me another grateful smile.
And there, in that moment of vulnerability, I see desire flash in her green eyes as her hands linger for a few seconds too long on me. She definitely still wants me.
I know your secret now. You’re not getting away from me. I don’t care if you have a boyfriend. Tony can go to hell.
Jessica
“So he has already rescued you twice and it has only been, what, one week?” Tony looks at me with a smug, knowing smile on his face.
“A little over that.” I frown at him. I'm not going to encourage that annoying smile. “Saying that he rescued me seems a bit much, don't you think? He fixed my car once, and he waited with me while the cops were on their way. That’s all. He’s just a good neighbor.”
“Yeah, it sounds like he did more than that, though. I wouldn’t fix a car or enter a house that’s just been broken into for a neighbor.”
“That’s because you can’t fix a car, Tony. And you can’t check a house for intruders either. He’s ex-Navy SEAL, so it’s, like, all in a day’s work for him. The equivalent would be you giving your neighbor’s kid a few tips to help him pass his English test,” I say as I turn on the electric kettle on the counter of the shared staff kitchen.
“Last time I checked, fixing cars wasn’t in the job description for the military.”
“I was referring to the break-in, obviously.”
“Okay. Let’s see. First, he gave you a ride on his sexy Harley Davidson. Then, he sexily checked your house to make sure there were no baddies in there. He even found your dog—in an equally sexy manner, I bet. Geez, what does a guy have to do to deserve the verb ‘rescue’ around here? Straight guys sure do have it rough.” Tony takes a loud sip of coffee from his Best Dad Ever mug.
“Does Greg have the same mug? Because I honestly think you're just an okay dad. He's the one stuck at home with the kids most days.”
“Nobody asked you for a Yelp review on my parenting, Jessie. Sticks and stones may break my bones, and all that.” Tony shrugs. “Don't change the subject. We're still talking about your dreamy neighbor-slash-ex-lover.”
I exaggerate the shudder running down my spine to show Tony the effect of his cringey choice of words on me. I look around the break room to check that it's still just the two of us here before I roll my eyes. “He's hardly a ‘lover.’ Ugh, please never use that word again. We slept together once.”
“I see. I notice you have no objections to the use of the adjective ‘dreamy.’” Tony puts his mug down on the counter as a victorious smile spreads across his face.
I shrug and lean against the counter to put a teabag in a mug. I need to occupy my hands so I don't fidget. I don't know if it's the break-in or just talking about Jacob that's making me anxious, but I don't want Tony to notice and get worried.
“I’m not going to deny he’s hot. I wouldn’t have slept with him otherwise,” I say.
“Oh, Jessie, Jessie. You think you’re so clever, trying to trick me. But I see right through you. You, young lady, are transparent.” Tony points an accusing finger at me. “You’re hardly the one-night-stand type. I bet you really liked him. Maybe you still do.”
“Eh. You didn’t know me back then. Maybe I used to be the type. Maybe I’m just reformed now.”
“Jessie likes a bo-oy,” Tony taunts in a sing-songy voice.
“I was a stripper,” I say in a low voice. “Maybe I used to have emotionless sex all the time. You don’t know.”
Tony is the only person in the entire school who knows about my past. He knows I used to strip for a living and he knows why I moved here.
We’re the only teachers in Ashbourne High School who are in our twenties, so we quickly bonded over our shared love of Taylor Swift. He’s now my “contact person in case of emergency” on all my legal forms.
One day, he opened up to me about growing up gay in a small town and told me how he felt like he had to hide who he really is for the longest time.
I said I knew how he must’ve felt. Then I told him how I’m hiding the fact that I used to be a stripper from everyone in town. That opened the floodgates and soon he knew all my deepest, darkest secrets.
“So why not do it again now?” Tony challenges. “Why not have emotionless sex again with Jacob?”
“Well, maybe I will.” I meet Tony’s stare while I pour the boiled water from the kettle into the cup and play with the teabag.
“Go ahead and do it, then. We both know you need to get laid. The way your Tinder date ended, Mr. Dreamy Neighbor’s your best bet right now.”
“Like I said, maybe I will, if I feel like it.”
“Okay. Maybe then you’ll admit I’m right.”
“You’re right regarding…?” I take a tiny sip of my piping hot tea, peering at Tony over the mug.
“Regarding how much you like Mr. Dreamy Neighbor,” he says. “It’s obvious he likes you, too.”
“It is?” I ignore the new name Tony has bestowed upon Jacob.
“Why else would he move to a small town where he doesn’t know anybody?”
�
��I don’t know. Maybe he’s just a drifter. He never said he was going to stay here. Or maybe he’s got work to do.”
“Yeah? What kind of work?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me what he does for a living.”
“Yeah. I’d bet my favorite Valentino shirt that Mr. Dreamy Neighbor’s here to do something, or someone, but it’s not work.” Tony raises one eyebrow and shoots me a sly smile.
“Hey, let’s not forget that he may have been sent by Stan to kidnap me, okay? I’ve never had a break-in before he moved in.”
“Is that why you didn’t stay at his place after he offered?”
“Kind of. It was also because the cops didn’t seem too worried about it, like that kind of thing happens all the time and nobody ever gets hurt, because the robber usually just wants to steal stuff and not hurt people. I figured I was safer on my own than with someone who could be Stan’s guy, who could’ve set up the break-in himself to trick me into staying with him.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Not really,” I admit. Jacob is a little rough around the edges, but I don’t get the vibes that he’d ever do anything to harm me. Having worked at a strip club for years, I know the telltale signs of a violent man, and Jacob is not one.
He’s a big guy, but he wouldn’t hurt me. Not unless I want him to. My dirty mind flies to the time we spent in his bed, his teeth biting on my neck, his fingers pulling my hair. Exquisite pain. Mind-blowing pain. Rock-my-world pain.
It’s rare that I come across a man who instinctively knows what I need and gives it to me. Most men are either too passive or too selfish in bed. Not Jacob. He took me fast and hard, used me for his pleasure, but not without making sure I’m satisfied, too.
“Earth to Jessie,” Tony says, putting an abrupt end to my daydream. “Sorry for the interruption, but the look on your face is…curious, to say the least.”
As I flick my gaze toward him, he smirks smugly and says, “Thinking about all the meaningless sex you’re going to have with Mr. Dreamy Neighbor?” He raises the pitch of his voice and says, “Oh, Mr. Dreamy Neighbor, I need to get laid so bad. Please do me with your dreamy, engorged manhood.”
“Whatever, Tony. I need to get to class.” I take my mug of tea with me as I rush out toward the hallway before Tony can come up with something snarky to say, before he notices my face turning red. My cheeks already feel warm. Damn my pale complexion.
I sit at my desk in my classroom. I actually still have a few minutes to waste before the bell rings, but Tony doesn’t need to know that.
I grab my phone and click the app with the envelope icon. I should really clear my mailbox someday. I’m subscribed to too many newsletters that I don’t even recognize anymore.
I delete most of my new emails until there are only three left. The electricity bill, the water bill, and an email from someone called Caine Foster with a subject that says “Urgent: We need to talk about Nancy Jones.”
A shiver runs down my spine. Could this be Stan catching up to me?
I haven’t shared this email address with anybody from my previous life. In fact, I deleted all my old online accounts and created new ones when I left the city.
There’s only one way to find out. I tap on the email to open it. The message inside is short.
Miss Lewis,
Please don’t be alarmed. You don’t have any reason to trust me, but I’m here to help you. We can’t discuss much over emails for obvious reasons. Please meet me in person. I’ll be in town two weeks from now. Pick a time and a public place where you’ll feel safe. Hope to hear back from you.
Regards,
Caine Foster
Jacob
“What are you doing?” Jessica climbs up the porch and stands over my shoulders as I crouch by her front door.
“What does it look like?” I keep my eyes on my work, even though I want to turn around and take a good look at her.
This morning when she left for work, I saw her wearing a tight little green skirt. I would’ve loved having a teacher like her when I was in school.
I bet that ass looks cute wiggling in front of the class as she erases the writing on the whiteboard, and that loose blouse looks like the kind that would let me take a peek at her cleavage when she bends down to pick up a dropped pen.
“It looks like you’re tampering with my lock without my permission,” she says without missing a beat.
Jesus, did she wake up on the wrong side of the bed? This is what I get for trying to help her. I take a deep breath to calm myself down.
“No, I’m changing your locks,” I say in the calmest voice I can muster. I’m not in the mood for an argument today, especially after getting lost on the way to the hardware store to buy the new door locks. I’m pretty tired and easily irritated right now, and I know fighting with Jessica would just turn my day from bad to worse.
“Oh.” She sounds surprised.
My hands stay frozen in the air, one holding a screwdriver and the other one holding the old door lock I’ve just removed. I look back over my shoulder to see color spread across her cheeks.
When she notices me looking at her, she turns around and walks toward the porch railing, presumably in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.
Too late, baby. I already saw you turn red as a beet.
“How much is it?” She turns around as she leans her luscious ass on the railing.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “It was cheap.”
“But I have to give you something in return for doing that for me.”
“How about a lap dance?” I turn around and raise an eyebrow at her, a lopsided smile forming on my lips.
She glares at me without saying a word.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” I shrug. She stays quiet as I put the new latch into place. Jesus, fuck. I really don’t need this silent treatment today. “Sorry. It was just a joke.”
But I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to do it, I think to myself.
“Yeah, well, it was a bad joke,” she says. Even without looking, I know she’s still glaring at me. I can practically feel the heat of her anger searing into my back.
Okay, so she doesn’t like to talk about her previous job. It’s not going to be easy trying to find out what she’s up to with her being all secretive like this.
I get up and hold the door between my knees as I put one half of the doorknob through the hole on the outside of the door and the other half through the one on the inside. They slide together into place. I step inside Jessica’s hallway to screw everything into place.
“Wait a minute,” she says. “How did you open the door?”
“With a credit card. Probably the same way the guy who broke in did.”
“I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Yeah. You had an older lock. This type is more secure, so he won’t be able to get in so easily next time. The police say this type of thing happens sometimes in this area, so he probably won’t try your house again next time. But if he does, he’ll see it’s harder to pick your lock now and maybe he’ll try another house.”
“Now I feel bad for the neighbors.”
“Eh, there are always going to be break-ins. All you can do is make sure it’s not your house that’s being targeted.”
“Can you also do Bertha’s house?”
“Bertha?”
“Yes. She’s the older lady who lives a few houses down the street. She lives on her own,” she says.
“Sure, I can do that.” I don’t have a spare set of door lock, but I can’t say no to that. Now I’d feel responsible if the old lady really got her place broken into. I guess I’ll have to make another trip to the hardware store. At least I already know the way by now so I won’t get lost again.
“Thanks, Jacob.” Jessica gives me a sweet smile that makes me want to march across the porch and kiss her.
Aw, fuck. Why do I have to be such a sucker for her pretty face?
“No problem,” I s
ay as I lock and unlock the door a few times to make sure it works. I cross the porch toward her and hold out my hand, the keys dangling from my fingers. “Okay, I’m done. I’ve already changed the lock on the back door as well. Here are your new keys. You may want to give your landlord a set. Oh, and your boyfriend, too.”
I keep my expression neutral to make it seem like a casual question. In reality, I’ve been planning to drop this into a conversation since she mentioned the name of the guy who has a key to her place last night.
While watching her through the window this morning, I was going through this conversation in my head. I thought my idea to change her locks was genius. And of course, I timed it perfectly to coincide with her coming home.
“My boyfriend?” Jessica frowns as she takes the keys from me. Her hand grazes mine for a second and I resist the urge to grab it and pull her close so I can smell her hair again like I did last night.
“Yeah. Uh, Tony, right?” I frown and cock my head so it looks like I’m trying to recall the name that, in reality, has been branded on my brain by jealousy.
“Tony’s not my boyfriend,” she says as she laughs it off. Good answer, but I have a few follow-up questions.
“Oh, is that why he didn’t drive you home last night?”
“Last night?”
“Yeah. You were all dressed up and looking nice, so I thought maybe you had a date,” I say. I know she doesn’t usually wear heels, for example, but I’m not going to mention that.
“Oh. Um, yeah. But it wasn’t with Tony,” she says.
“Tony has your keys, but you went out with another guy who isn’t your boyfriend?” I whistle. “Wow, you’re really playing the field, aren’t you?”
“Excuse me?” Jessica’s voice climbs in both pitch and volume. “Neither one of them is my boyfriend, but I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“I thought neighbors were supposed to share personal information with one another,” I say. I know I’m just making her angrier, but fuck not getting into a fight. She needs to know what she’s doing is not okay. “Listen. I’m telling you this for your own good. Maybe it was fine to play with the guys who went to your strip club. Maybe they were there just for fun and games, too. But guys in small towns, they don’t work that way. They get hurt and they may lash out at you, maybe break into your house. I suggest you move back to the city if you want to continue doing this.”