by Koko Brown
Months later when we arrive in Victoire, I’m still trying to figure out how we made it to a happy ending.
However different I thought it was going to be with Talia, it’s not. Even though she’s the mother of two and has received a huge status upgrade from reluctant law student, she chooses to stand in a corner with Luca and me at the rehearsal dinner after-party, like I’m the most important person at her party. We talk about old times and the many accessibility challenges that will come with taking the bar in September. But as soon as Luca excuses himself to use the bathroom, Talia drops the small talk and starts in with her real questions.
“So you’re living together now, but you still haven’t met his family?” she whispers.
“Nope,” I answer. “And trust me, I’m cool with that.”
Luckily, Luca comes back before I have to explain why.
We stay on for two more days after the wedding to make sure we take full advantage of the quiet tropical setting before heading back to noisy New York City.
“You still got something against dating Italians?” he asks me as we sit on the lounge chairs outside our bungalow at the resort Talia put all her guests up in.
“Nanh, I guess not,” I answer grinning up into the warm sun.
“How about marrying one then?” He turns my hand sun up and places a small fuzzy box on my palm.
And even before I open it, I have the feeling Luca and I are about to do Somethin’ Stupid. Again.
THE END
ABOUT THEODORA TAYLOR
Theodora Taylor writes hot books with heart. She is also the founder of Interracial Romance Weekly Bestseller List. When not reading, reviewing or writing, she enjoys spending time with her amazing family, going on date nights with her wonderful husband, and attending parties thrown by others. Visit her at:
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ONE HIT
VICTORIA H. SMITH
ONE
“Oh, yes, daddy!”
God, could she be anymore of a mess?
Shaking my head, I adjusted the positioning of my foot. My ankle felt more awkward than anything else, the cast of purple, plaster bandages completely misleading. I hadn’t felt any actual physical pain in my ankle for over two weeks now. The thing was completely cosmetic, a requirement by my doctor to keep it covered the entire duration of my “recovery.” I was to keep off the broken ankle for six to eight weeks, making me completely freakin’ stir crazy. Like I said, I hadn’t felt any pain in a while.
Grumbling, I shoved another pillow under there. I had two now from the position of my couch.
“Aleise, get from over by the window,” I said, leaning back. I picked up a magazine off my coffee table. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
And that was an understatement. She said she’d come by to see me, check up on my condition and see how I was doing. Instead, she’d been peeping through my window and staring across the street like a perv for the last hour.
She and every other female in my neighborhood.
I know because I’d been stuck in my house for the better part of two months. I had nothing to do but notice what my neighbors were doing and that very much surrounded the actions of one single neighbor, a new one who’d moved in ironically enough around two months ago.
I crossed my arms. “Aleise…”
“What?” she asked, not breaking her viewing. In fact, those blinds on my window spread wider, Aleise’s long micro braids practically getting stuck inside them.
Did I mention my friend was a mess?
She waved a hand at me. “You get over here! This man is just…”
Simply that, a man and one who really didn’t warrant as much chatter, as he’d been receiving. He was a pretty simple guy from what I could gather, quiet. He kept his shades drawn and didn’t bother anyone.
Actually, I’d say my neighbors were the only ones bothering him.
The poor guy got a spectacle every time he stepped out, my neighbors’ blinds flicking like shutters each time his door clicked open. He came out in the mornings to jog, his hoodie on and hood up, then again at night. I usually didn’t see him then, just heard him. His garage door would open up and out cruised his navy blue Beamer, the finish shiny and glistening in the night. He had his windows tinted, so there wasn’t much of a show then, but that didn’t stop the blinds from moving in my neighbors’ windows. I’d even seen a few women come out of their houses a couple times after he headed out for his run, giggling and gossiping behind their hands like fangirls in their house slippers and robes. The whole thing made me want to pull my hair out, the guy more than ordinary and definitely not worth all the hubbub. I mean, he liked to work out in the mornings, and then left at night—most likely to go to work.
I scoffed. “If you don’t get out of my window and quit acting ridiculous...”
She was single-handedly grouping me in with the very lot who were in my face the minute I came home with a cast on.
“I heard it was a hit and run,” my neighbors said to me the week I’d come home with a cast and “will you hire someone to find out who did it?”
A, I wanted to say how in the hell did they know I was involved in a hit and run accident and b, why did they feel my business was suddenly theirs? Being quiet myself, I did neither, though. I was involved in a hit and run accident and actually right outside where I worked. I owned a small bookstore on the other side of town and definitely in a more docile part of the city.
Somehow trouble managed to find me despite the fact.
All Aleise’s butt did was shake over there by that window, nothing but a giggle following my demand, and I sighed, pushing myself up.
She’s obviously going to need fetching.
My crutches propped on the couch, I grabbed them, needing them only because walking was awkward without them. According to my last doctor’s visit, I had only a few more days in the stupid cast and then I could ditch the lot, crutches and all.
Freedom can’t come soon enough.
Wobbling, I used the crutches to stand. Aleise was still by the window of course, grin splitting those cut, mocha cheeks of hers from ear-to-ear. She had a bone structure like a runaway model and the height to match. She dwarfed me even without shoes and was firm from CrossFit where I was soft and doughy from lounging too late into the evenings reading—a bowl of ice cream in hand.
Her hand waved like a propeller in my direction. “Come on. Come on. He’s going to stop before you get over here, you cripple.”
I blanched, picking up the pace with my crutches. She forgot I literally held her job in my hands. She was the sole manager at my store.
“Aleise, that man does not want you looking at him,” I urged making it to the window.
She grabbed my face in response, my cheeks smooshed between her palms.
“Journee,” she said to me, turning my face in the direction of the window. “That man is literally asking for me to look at him. Asking. Use your damn eyes, honey.”
My tongue itched, on the cusp of reading her the riot act…
But then I started counting.
One…
Biceps expanded and contracted through my window, a set of thick and sizable hands pulling a man’s wide chest toward a metal bar stationed firmly in a doorframe.
Two…
Back muscles formed, prominent, as they spaced off and narrowed into a tapered waist—again through my window.
Three…
I stopped counting by then, my head shaking in dismay. Apparently, my new neighbor had forgone his usual quiet, normal workout regimen of jogging in his hooded sweatshirt. He opted for something a bit different today, that something full on and literally in our faces.
And he did it “full on” sh
irtless.
He had a pull-up bar stationed right in the doorframe of his house, a large single-family residence two stories in height. I quite literally looked at this house every day. I saw it when I got my newspaper, my mail, and when I went to work before I got hurt.
But I never saw it like this.
Dark hair was the only identifying trait of a body seemly pulled directly from the pages of one of my old college textbooks. I overlooked those anatomy courses, electives for my standard liberal arts degree.
My crutches slacked, as a man exerted himself, taking only moments of rest before going right back at it. He had his feet bare and his ankles crossed, pulling away in merely a pair of black shorts. They hung low at his waist, his firm and incredibly long torso stretching in length when he relaxed. That doorframe was easily six feet, all the houses in this cul-de-sac essentially the same aside from a few varying elements.
And this guy’s feet partially touched the ground during every one of those dang pull-ups.
He had his… his chiseled legs crossed, ankles crossed and barefoot, and his toes touched the freakin’ ground!
“He’s easily six five.”
The words had been said with my thoughts, Aleise’s hand on her bosom. I did have her in that department, those tubs of Ben and Jerry’s had to result in something besides just round cheeks on my heart-shaped face.
Aleise aired out her shirt, her fingers a slip away from touching herself.
She bit her lip again. “We should go talk to him. You know… after he’s done or something.”
Talk to him… The very idea! The man was basically naked, on display in front of whoever wanted to see in the middle of the day when he’d been nothing more than a sleeper next door before.
Now, he wants attention?
Well, he surely got it. Aside from Aleise and myself, my neighbors were practically falling out of the windows, pressed to the glass like cats in heat.
Jesus.
“Oh my gosh, he’s leaving.”
If Aleise’s words hadn’t gotten my attention, her tugging on my shoulder had and sure enough my new neighbor had dropped down from his pull-up bar.
When did he even put that thing up? Those don’t come with the properties…
“He’s turning in this direction, Journee. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he’ll see us!”
I didn’t even get a chance to say “Are you serious?” before I was being pulled to the side of my window, my casted foot barreling over my other leg. The end result had about three pounds of plaster plus foot falling on Aleise’s feet.
“Shit!”
“Shh!” I said, grabbing her. “He might hear us.”
“There’s freakin’ glass and two lawns separating us, Journee, and that damn hurt.”
Well, serves her right. She made me spy on the guy.
Turning, I flicked those blinds again, checking to see if he did actually see us.
A door closing ahead of me shut down that question. I couldn’t confirm if he saw us or not and just as quickly as I’d seen my neighbor doing pull-ups, he was gone, the door of his house closing the only indicator someone had been outside in the first place.
A whoosh of air accompanied Aleise passing in front of me to the window and she nearly tripped on my cast again.
“Aleise, what the—”
“Dammit, Journee. You let him get away. Now, what are we supposed to do?”
Dear God in heaven, is she serious, right now?
I pushed my hand over my high bun. I’d stretched my twist-out into the style that morning, my hair more easily managed that way.
Crossing my arms, I seriously questioned my friend/employee’s sanity in that moment. She was peering out of the window more than when the guy had been out there.
But it seemed she wasn’t the only one.
Doors opened like popcorn kernels popping, women—lots of women—coming out of their neighboring homes in their Sunday best.
Colorful silks and long dresses filled the streets of my neighborhood like a parade and nearly all of the women had platters in their hands, trays filled with cookies and cupcakes.
One of my neighbors even had a ham!
Only in the suburbs…
“You still got that cake in the kitchen, right?”
I turned to Aleise, surprised to see her pressing a fresh coat of lipstick to her full lips.
When did she grab that?
Brown eyes met mine above her compact. “The cake, Journee?”
“Yeah, and?” I’d done some baking, actually a lot of baking. There really wasn’t a whole lot to do with a broken ankle…
But then, Aleise was gone, rushing in the direction of my kitchen.
Bracing my crutches, I followed her, stamping the ground across my hardwood floor. Slow as all get out in these stupid things, I got to the kitchen just in time to see her boxing up the three-tier chocolate cake I made with raspberry ganache filling—as well as plating all the other goodies I’d made in the past few days that lay on the counter.
“We’re going to need reinforcements,” was all she said, as I got beside her.
My jaw dropped. “For what exactly?”
She simply grinned, looking up at me after closing my cake container with a snap.
She propped her hands on her hips. “Because we’re going to go meet your new neighbor.”
TWO
“Sorry, ladies,” Aleise tossed over her shoulder minutes later, a sway to her hips when her heels hit the sidewalk. Her strides long, she somehow managed to reach my new neighbor’s house across the street before anyone else—her arms filled with a three-tier cake and cookies on top, no less.
A wink followed her labor.
“I guess a little bit too slow today,” she said, offering up a quick wave and a smirk before finishing her stalk up to a doorstep she had no right approaching. Hell, none of my neighbors did.
Least of all me.
Groaning, I stamped the sidewalk with my crutches, lifting one to wave occasionally at my neighbors. I needed to calm down the horde who’d been approaching my new neighbor’s doorstep before Aleise and myself had cut in line.
And yes, a line had formed, women in clusters traipsing up to the man’s house. They’d actually reached his lawn before Aleise and myself slid through, my friend determined. I could only imagine we made it before any of them because they all stood around debating on who should approach first. They gave Aleise an opportunity and she went for it.
Lucky me.
The “side eyes” weighed like blankets, as I passed the women and a few men parked out on this man’s lawn like crazy people and didn’t let up when I finally made it to my destination.
“Aleise, I have to live with these people,” I whispered to her, offering a quick smile behind my back. The expression definitely didn’t calm the situation.
They all still looked pissed.
They did disperse at least, though, glares sharp my way, as they took their desserts with them back to their respective homes.
I breathed, hiding my face in my shoulder. I was out of breath from my crippled sprint and pissed as well.
“Oh, they’re fine,” came in front of me—Aleise.
Shaking out her hair, she squared her shoulders. “Quit freaking out. It’s not that big of a deal.”
Said the woman who could drive away after all this.
I facepalmed myself, only coming out of it when Aleise poised her hand to knock on the big ole door before us. It really was easily six feet, the dimensions similar to mine.
I grabbed her hand over my crutch. “No, you don’t. You’ve hit your damage quota for today.”
At least if I controlled the situation, knocked, we could get out of here quick. We could pass on the cake, give the traditional “welcome to the neighborhood” salutations, and be done with it all.
“I’m handling this,” I said, squaring my own shoulders. “You’ve done enough.”
“Oh, whatever. If it wasn’t for me—”
> “We’d be inside and not embarrassing ourselves, meaning me in front of the rest of my neighbors. I mean…”
I hunched down. “You got us out here looking thirsty as hell on a man’s doorstep.”
All she did was straighten her dress at that. “We do not look thirsty. We look neighborly.”
“Neighborly. Neighborly when you’re not even a neighbor? Tell me again how that works?”
She shrugged. “Neighborly by association then.”
This girl really was a trip.
I shook my head. “We knock. We give him his treats. We get out. That’s the game plan, then no more of this.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Can I help you, ladies?”
Deep... like a rumble in a cave and sure enough that rumble came from in front of us.
A man a foot or more above me filled the doorframe.
And he was just as naked as the last time I saw him.
A pair of lounge pants sat at his chiseled hips, his feet bare on the floor. A smattering of dark hair chased a line between the valley of toned abs and his firm pecs were dusted with those same toned strands. Brown nipples rose and fell and I assumed he rushed to the door, his head of inky black hair wet and dotting droplets of water across his broad shoulders. He had a t-shirt in his hand and he shrugged it on, his deep-set eyes the bluest sapphire shade. He had a look about him that told of mystery and until today that rang true. I had never actually seen him head-on before. He always had a hood up, keeping to himself, and what a shame.
He really had nothing to hide.
Absolutely no words could come in his presence, the man basically a bear. He had his head dipped, the doorframe unable to contain his sheer height.
“Ladies?”
Jesus, get a grip.
“We’re your neighbors,” Aleise started, biting her lip a little. “I mean, well, not me per se. But I am in this neighborhood a lot, across the street from you a lot, and wanted to welcome you into the neighborhood.”