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 8
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 stealthly 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 Tshirts 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.
Charlie leans against the kitchen counter and runs a hand over his scruffy chin. The gesture is filled with frustration. “All the guy does is mope. I don’t know what to do about him anymore.”
A ribbon of sympathy spools around my ribcage. I feel the need to defend my neighbor. “He’s a single dad trying to figure things out, Charlie. Maybe you should be a little sensitive to that.” I prop a hip against the counter beside him.
“He’s getting a divorce. Nothing original about that. He can’t grieve forever,” my brother says dryly.
I roll my eyes. “It’s not that simple and you know it.”
His groan makes the countertop vibrate. “I know. I know. It’s just that—he’s one of the best people I know. And he’s been through a lot. It’s hard to see him suffering.”
Warmth spills into my belly when he says that. I silently wonder if Leo played a role in the mission that saved Charlie when he got into trouble. My brother doesn’t like talking about what happened out in the jungle three years ago. So I don’t ask. But my curiosity about the situation is always right there, lingering at the back of my mind.
“Have you tried talking to him?” I ask.
“He’s a soldier. Soldiers don’t talk.” Charlie’s features are hard and serious for a long moment. I stand there silently because I can’t even imagine what it would be like to have to hold so much pain inside. The somber mood dissipates when my brother smirks. “That’s why I got him the Welcome to Cooper Heights package.”
My eyebrow perks up. “I’m scared to even ask what that is…”
He saunters over to the box sitting by the back door. I’m only noticing it now. He hoists it up onto the counter, revealing the paraphernalia inside. I feel dirty just looking. “Vodka, porn, handcuffs and condoms. Some adult toys, of course. A few naughty magazines too in case he’s into that sort of thing.”
I plant my hands on my hips. “Charlie, the guy isn’t about to open up an Amsterdam-style brothel next door. This is Copper Heights.” I emphasize my words. “Besides, he’s going through a divorce.”
Charlie shakes his head at me like I’m a naive little girl. “Reese—for a man, nothing heals a broken heart like finding a hot piece of tail and pounding her until you fracture her pelvis. Trust me.”
I roll my eyes. “God—sometimes you sound just like Nova. You’re both disgusting.”
He grins like the Cheshire cat at the mention of my friend. “Great minds think alike.”
“Sometimes, I think the two of you belong together.” I’m only half-teasing.
He grunts. “Nova is vicious. She would destroy my fragile heart.” He clasps his hands over his chest and pretends to swoon.
“You’re such a bullshit artist.” I snort and punch him in the shoulder. We both know that he’s a damn heartbreaker. Any woman who lashes out against him is probably doing it out of self-preservation.
Just then, a cute little face appears in the doorway. This time it isn’t covered by ginormous panties.
Charlie hurriedly slams the flaps of his Box of Depravity shut right as Brenton sticks his head into the kitchen. “Is the burgers almost ready, Uncle Charlie?” His tummy grumbles loudly.
“Yeh, bud.” My brother tucks the box protectively under his arm. “Almost ready.”
Brenton turns to me. He’s got some sort of sticky syrup all over his face. “You gonna eat burgers with me, Reese?”
“Uh, I’m kind of busy right this minute. But I’m sure you’ll enjoy them with Uncle Charlie.”
“No…” the child whines. “I want you to eat burgers with me!”
Aww…My heart squeezes tight. It’s true—being around Leo makes me as nervous as a priest in a whorehouse. And I still haven’t run out of creative ways to make a fool of myself in front of him. But am I really supposed to say no to that adorable face?
“I think someone has a crush on Reese,” Charlie chuckles under his breath.
Yes, only a monster could say no to that adorable face.
I’m decidedly unpresentable in my Saturday evening cleaning outfit—an oversized T-shirt with a fraying hem and red shorts that hang low on my hips because the elastic is all stretched out. I need a quick wardrobe change.
“Okay, how about you go back to your house with Uncle Charlie? I just have something to do really quick then I’ll come right over. And guess what?”
“What?”
“I’ll bring hot dogs!”
“Yay! Hot dogs!” The child zips down the back stairs and across the yard. Charlie follows behind him.
I race up to my bedroom, slip into a sundress, spritz some perfume behind my ears and swipe a layer of gloss over my lips. I try to convince myself that the fussing and fumbling is just basic hygiene. Not extra primping because I might see Leo.
After all—cleanliness is next to godliness. Isn’t that what they say?
When I stroll across to where Charlie is manning the grill on the neighboring porch, he gives me a weird look. “You smell different.” He scrunches up his nose and gives me a onceover. “And that isn’t what you were just wearing…”
“Totally is.” I grumble unconvincingly and quickly divert my eyes. I’m not good at lying.
He stares at me with a confused expression but shakes his head and turns away, focusing his attention on the burgers he’s flipping.
Brenton looks at me and blushes. “You look pretty!”
I grin at him. “Well, you have excellent taste, young man. And you’re very handsome yourself.” I set the bag of hot dogs, veggies and leftover potato salad onto the table then crouch down beside him and whisper. “You think we can get Uncle Charlie to throw these hot dogs on the grill for us?”
He looks over at Charlie and giggles. “Yeah, we can get him to throw them on the grill,” the child says assuredly.
Right then, we hear the back door sliding along its tracks. I look over in that direction. The space between my legs does something vulgar when the door opens and Leo steps out onto the porch.
Chapter 9
Leo
I should be unpacking.
We’ve been here how long now? And half of our lives is still in boxes scattered all over the house. We’re still eating out of disposable dishes. Brent still needs new clothes.
But I’m fucking overwhelmed with everything. I feel like I’m drowning. I just need a minute. I feel like I haven’t taken a breath in forever.
Charlie is on the porch with Brenton. I watch through the glass door as my son animatedly tells a story, complete with flapping hand gestures and lively facial expressions.
Charlie laughs. I worry.
The kid can’t sit still these days. He has more energy than he knows what to do with. More energy than I know what to do with.
I grab the whiskey and a plastic cup from the cabinet and drop into a chair. What I really want is a cigarette but Brenton doesn’t need to know his dad has devolved into a nicotine-junkie chain-smoker.
So fucking stressed…
I wonder if he’s okay. He hasn’t asked about his mother this entire time. Not once. Is that normal? Should I take him to see a shrink? I don’t know what the hell to do these days.
Someone enters the yard. I see her approaching.
Long, mahogany hair falling down her narrow shoulders…a yellow dress that props up her gorgeous tits…the best ass I’ve ever seen.
Fuck—it’s Reese, looking as pretty and angelic as ever.
She’s standing
on the porch next to Charlie now, petite and curvy. Smiling down at Brenton. He says something to her and she laughs, tipping her head back and exposing the creamy length of her neck. That’s all it takes to have my body throbbing. She sets a bag on the table beside the grill then she crouches down beside my son and whispers into his ear. They both look at Charlie and burst into giggles. I find myself smiling, too.
As if controlled by some invisible force, I’m rising out of my chair and sliding the door open.
She looks at me and my heart stops. God, she’s beautiful.
She stumbles a bit as she rises to her feet. Her eyes blink rapidly like the fluttering of butterfly wings and she sucks in sharply. “Hi…” she says, sounding breathless. Tension melts from my limbs as she smiles and her cheeks flush. Her fingers knot in the hem of her dress. She’s nervous again. So fucking adorable.
Our gazes lock for a long second and I feel fireworks crackling up my spine. “Hi…”
God, I want to get closer to her. Even from this distance, she smells sweet. Like vanilla and brown sugar and something soft, feminine. Breathing her in is entirely more calming than sucking down a pack of cigarettes.
I want to run my hands over her curves and cup the swell of her breasts. I want to taste her lips. They look like strawberries. Do they really taste like strawberries? I want to tangle my fingers in her hair. I want to—
“Daddy! I eated three popsicles!” Brenton’s proud announcement snaps me out of my fantasy.
I tear my focus away from Reese and bring my gaze to my son who is now bouncing in place, waiting for my reaction. His hands and mouth are covered in purple syrup. “Brenton—it’s ‘ate’, not ‘eated’. And I told you—no junk food for you. You’re on punishment.”
Charlie throws an indignant glance over his shoulder. “For what?” He says it like he can’t possibly fathom the idea of my rugrat causing mischief.
“He got in trouble in the after-school program. For putting finger-paint in some little girl’s hair.”
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