My parents had this make-believe world they’d built for themselves, and they were totally immersed in it. They were always too busy clinging to it to ever understand me and how I felt. Once I realized how everyone else was, all I wanted was the real world and not their make-believe, and they treated it like some kind of betrayal. That feeling didn’t last that long, though, they just chalked it up to me growing. They thought once I was older I’d understand them.
Fat chance of that happening, I thought to myself with a scoff.
I distanced myself from my parents in high school. I still talked to them, and they had phones around so it wasn’t too difficult. But there were times their phone bills weren’t paid, or now that I was out of the house, they left with no notice to go for a trip somewhere in some remote area with no hope of any signal all because they liked to experience nature. It was the one thing we had in common, but unlike them, I would never drop my real life responsibilities to go hiking and exploring.
I hadn't talked to them since the move, and it had been several weeks already.
Just forget about it, I told myself, pushing my thoughts off with a shake of my head. They know my number, I told them where I would be. If they need me, they’ll look for me.
I was in the backyard of my new house chopping wood, and I got back into it with more vigor, letting out my frustration with the world. I’d already done half the work, now to get to the other half before it got dark. I’d heard a car, which could only mean that my neighbor had arrived, and she usually got back home late, so I knew I had to get on.
The ax swung hard as I brought it down with all my strength. I was already panting from all the work I’d done today, with little breaks in between to catch my breath, eat and drink. I’d been at this for an hour now at least, but I needed to get everything done.
When I moved, I moved with a plan, and I wanted to put it into action quickly. The wood broke, and I picked it up, tossing it away toward the growing pile. I might have done it with more strength than necessary. Also, I wasn’t really paying attention because my mind was on something else. But I heard when it hit, and I looked up to see I’d hit the neighbor’s fence. It wobbled, and to my surprise, the whole thing toppled over.
Fuck, I thought to myself.
I dropped the ax with a sigh and wiped my forehead again. I couldn’t leave it lying there, but I couldn’t touch it just yet. There was no way I could fix it quietly, and I didn’t want to shock my neighbor with the damage before I could even inform her or apologize for it.
I wiped my hands on my jeans and went over to the woman’s place. I’d seen her a few times while I was fixing the place up. There was a son, and as far as I knew, no husband. I waited at her door, giving myself a minute to catch my breath. I raised my hand to knock, pausing a little because my body trembled with nerves.
I swallowed. This was my responsibility. Unlike my parents, I knew what that meant.
I knocked in three hard raps and waited for the door to open.
When it did, I was surprised.
We had been neighbors for some time, and I’d seen her in passing, but because I was always busy or exhausted from doing so much work, I’d never taken such a close look before.
Beautiful.
She had dark hair and gray eyes, a combination I’d only ever heard of in books, and it was as beautiful as I’d thought it would be. She was maybe thirty-two, with pale skin. She looked a little soft around the hips even under the clothes she wore, just a little bit, but I knew she exercised. I’d seen her a few times in the morning, coming back from a run just as I was heading out to start my day with more repairs and chores, so she was definitely fit.
Lydia, I thought when she told me her name. Just as beautiful as she looked.
I could feel my body stir with attraction, and I was a little surprised at myself. Not because she was older. It had been some time since my ex, more than a year, and no other woman had caught my interest in that time. It was hard anyway, before, when we still lived in the same town and I’d occasionally run into her on some other man’s arm. I’d learned to not let it bother me, but I couldn’t get it up for anyone after that, not even a one night stand. The move had been partially so I could forget her and try to move on with someone else.
My eyes roamed over Lydia as we talked. I couldn’t help it and I tried to be discreet. I wasn’t paying too much attention to the conversation, but it went smoothly. Her son needed her, so we made the agreement to talk the next day.
I couldn’t help but be pleased when we came to that conclusion because it meant I’d be seeing her again, and soon. Yeah, we were neighbors and I would see her anyway, but I’d get to talk to her, get to know her more.
“Slow down, boy,” I muttered to myself as I crossed back over to my place. “It’s only talking about the fence that you broke.”
I winced at the reminder. I walked to the backyard and saw the damage again, sighing. I did feel guilty about it, even though she hadn't seemed all that mad. But I knew that even if it didn’t seem that way, it didn’t mean she wasn’t mad. I couldn’t even blame her if she was mad. I had been careless.
“I’d better stop for today. I’m too distracted to do much, anyway.”
I had a habit of talking to myself, both in my head and out loud. It was from back in school when a lot of kids wouldn’t want to be around me, so I ended up alone a lot. I cleared up my yard, then went back to the house. I’d done a lot of fixing up, and there wasn’t much left before I turned it all into a real home. I’d need to buy some furniture and other things because it was still a bit sparse, but I had everything I needed for the moment.
For a moment, I stood and stared. I’d done it plenty of times since I had moved, and it had grown less overwhelming over time. The house was great. Because it was so run down and the realtor wanted it off his hands, I was able to get a good price. But the place was so fucking empty and not just with the lack of furniture.
One thing about my parents that I’d absolutely loved—the main reason I couldn’t bring myself to hate them—they knew how to fill a house with warmth. My place was empty. I couldn’t call it a home yet because there was absolutely no life in it. I wanted to do a walkthrough of the rooms and think about my plans some more.
Instead, I sighed and went into the kitchen, grabbing some snacks from the cupboards. I only had a few to tide me over. I took my health and fitness very seriously, so snacks were only an emergency food for me. I’d yet to set up the kitchen so I could cook, so I usually had take-out from a restaurant nearby.
I moved to the living room. I had one rocking chair and more seats on the way. I didn’t go sit down yet, though. Instead, I moved to the big window that faced next door.
Lydia, I thought with a sigh. So fucking fine…
My thoughts went back to when I showed up at her doorstep. I knew I was distorting reality a bit since but, in my mind, the smiles she was sending me were coy and flirtatious. There was more cleavage than I’d actually seen. My eyes had dropped to her chest just as I’d left, and I couldn’t help thinking about having her up against her wall, her legs around my hips as I claimed her breasts with my hands and mouth. I let out a harsh breath as my heartbeat sped up, but I shook my head rapidly, turning away from the window.
“Bad Ken,” I growled to myself. “You can't think about your older neighbor like that. She has a kid in the house!”
I was a little curious about what had happened to the kid’s dad, but I didn’t think too much about it.
After eating, I went to sleep early so I could get an earlier start the next day, do some work before heading off to talk to Lydia.
She featured in my dreams, and I couldn’t stop my thoughts then.
4
Lydia
I woke up with a gasp, my eyes snapping open. For a moment, I was disoriented, before I remembered.
Well, shit.
I’d had a dream about the beautiful man from next door. A very sexy dream.
�
��Where the fuck did that come from?” I whispered to myself.
I was lying back on my bed, panting, the sheets twisted around my legs, probably because I’d moved around a lot in my sleep. I was wet and throbbing between my thighs, the points of my nipples outlined in my thin sleep shirt. If I touched myself, I could probably make myself come in no time.
When was the last time that had happened?
Long before the divorce, Mike and I had been having sex on an on-off basis which meant we could go weeks without sleeping together. At the time he announced the divorce, it had been in the off times. So it had been a while since I’d had any satisfaction.
But still… to dream about someone so much younger than me…
I sighed and closed my eyes, running my fingers through my hair. It was a total mess, and I wondered just how much I’d been moving around in my sleep. Usually, I could go to bed in one position and not move at all until morning. Sometimes, I’d be conscious of shifting my position in the middle of the night before falling back to sleep.
Not so last night.
With my eyes closed, my mind went back to last night’s dream. I couldn’t remember all of it, but one part stood out. It was so damn innocent; it shouldn’t get me hot just thinking about it, but I couldn’t help it.
In my dream, Ken was at my door. Only, he wasn’t just standing there with his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t touching me, either. Instead, he had his hands crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. I couldn’t help but look at his hands and wish they were on me instead.
He had lightly tanned skin, so different from my pale skin. It was probably something genetic, the reason why my skin could never tan, but Ken was a little darker. His hands were big, with visible veins running through them. His biceps were impressive as well, but my sole focus was on those big, wide hands.
Ken wasn’t doing anything, but they looked strong to me. He had long fingers, and even with all the work he was doing, his nails were well cut and clean. They tightened for a moment, and I saw a flexibility that said he often worked with those hands, unlike me. The most I did was typing or sorting through files.
I bet they’re calloused, I thought to myself. Rough hands.
My breath caught as I thought of those calloused hands touching me. It had been too long since a man had touched me with desire, and the unexpected dreams were driving me insane.
I groaned to myself as I sat up in bed, scratching my head and opening my eyes.
He was coming over today. I couldn’t have those kinds of thoughts with him around, or I’d just make a fool of myself. I may not pursue anything with him, but I didn’t want the attractive man thinking of me as the weird old lady from next door. I shuddered just thinking it.
I got out of bed and headed for my shower.
I don’t even know that much about him, I chided myself. He’s hot, but he could be a serial killer for all I know. Last night was the first time I’d ever talked to him. All I knew was that he was quiet and hard working. As far as I knew, he didn’t talk much to people in the neighborhood, which was why I only just learned yesterday that his name was Ken. I wondered how many people knew that much about him. So not only was he quiet, but he kept to himself. That might be more because he’s always spending time fixing up his house.
Doesn’t matter. We’re just going to talk about my fence, and I’ll convince him he doesn’t have to do anything. End of story.
After my shower, I went downstairs to get started on breakfast. As it was cooking, I made a phone call.
“Hello,” came a voice on the other line when the call was picked up.
“Martha, it’s me,” I said. “Lydia, Bryson’s mom. I hope I’m not calling you too early.”
“Oh, Lydia! Not at all, I was actually about to get started on breakfast. What can I do for you?”
I flipped a pancake on the stove, then went back to the conversation.
“I was wondering if you could have Bryson stay over for the day? And, maybe sleep over tonight? I have some business to take care of, and I don’t want to leave him alone. I hope you don’t mind it’s on such short notice.” Usually, we set up these little play dates during the week, not on the day of.
“Of course, I don’t mind,” she said genuinely. “My kids would love to see him come back, I’m sure.”
I smiled to myself. Her son, Jason, and my Bryson were the best of friends, and Jason was one of the few people my son hadn't stopped talking to when Mike left. He had other friends, but he was closest with Jason, and because of that, Bryson was close with Martha’s three other kids as well. They loved having him over, and whenever I couldn’t stay with him, they took care of him for me.
We talked it all over, and it was decided I would be taking Bryson over after breakfast. I didn’t know when Ken would be coming over, after all, so the sooner the better. We’d stayed up last night and watched three movies before Bryson finally fell asleep, so he’d have a late start, anyway.
It was around nine when I finished making breakfast. I set the table, then went to wake up my little boy before the food got too cold. I walked up the stairs and went to his room, knocking first before I went in. He was still sprawled on his bed, his lips parted. I heard cute little snores coming out of him, and some drool had dripped over his pillow.
I couldn’t help a smile to myself.
“Bryson,” I called gently. I kneeled on the side of the bed and shook him lightly. “Come on, Bryson. Wake up. I’ll be taking you over to Jason’s place today after breakfast. Don’t you want to go see your friend and play?”
My son was something of a heavy sleeper. But after a minute of coaxing, I was able to get him to sit up, then get out of bed.
“Would you like to shower first, or eat first then shower?”
Bryson blinked, then rubbed one of his eyes, his mouth opening in a wide yawn.
“Breakfast,” he mumbled, heading for his door.
I stopped him before he walked into it, chuckling to myself, then I led him down to where I’d set everything up. The smell woke him up a bit, and he hurried over to the table to eat. I sat across from him and supervised as he ate. He tended to move too fast, and I didn’t want him to choke. We were done at about the same time, and he helped me carry the dishes over to the sink. He pulled a stool over and climbed on top of it to help me wash and dry the dishes, humming all the while.
“Why don’t you head upstairs to get ready?” I told him, once we had everything done and I was going around cleaning the kitchen surfaces. “I’ll be taking you to Jason’s, remember? Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”
“Okay, Mom,” he said, hugging me around the waist before he was running back to his room.
Half an hour later, he came down the stairs. He had a bag packed with random stuff that I raised an eyebrow at, but I didn’t question him. I helped him take his stuff to the car, then strapped him into the back seat, and we were off. Martha only lived a few blocks away. I could probably just walk over if I were on my own, but it would be too much for Bryson.
Martha opened the door once I stopped on her driveway, her son Jason running out of the house over to my car. His excitement seemed to affect Bryson, who was fumbling with his seatbelt. I laughed at my little boy and stepped out of the car, rounding to the backseat to help.
“Mom!” he whined. “I can do it myself.”
“I know you can, but let me help you out, okay? Jason’s waiting for you, after all.”
He didn’t argue anymore, but he was practically vibrating with impatience. As soon as I had him freed, and I handed him his bag as he stepped out, he and Jason were attacking each other with hugs. I was afraid they’d topple over for a moment, but instead, they righted themselves and sped into the house. Martha, smart woman that she was, had stepped aside to let them through.
“I’m sorry for springing this on you on such short notice,” I said, smiling sheepishly.
She waved a dismissive hand at me. “It’s fine. I can imagin
e how hard it is to juggle work and to look after a hyper little boy. I’ll take good care of your son, Lydia. I’ll drive him over tomorrow morning, or you can come pick him up?”
I nodded, opening my car door and pausing with one foot inside. “I’ll call you and let you know, but if there’s no word from me by eleven, just bring him over.”
She nodded her agreement, and I got back into the car, sending her a wave that she returned before walking back into the house. I drove back to my own home. I didn’t realize I was trembling until I was back on my driveway, and I pulled the keys out of the ignition.
Nerves, I thought to myself. What am I nervous about?
I went back into the house and wondered for a moment what I could do to pass the time. I’d finished all the work I needed to do yesterday because I’d thought I would be spending the evening and the whole weekend with my son. I wanted to spend more time with him, so he wouldn’t start to feel neglected just because one of his parents was gone. But now, I was waiting for my super hot, next door neighbor to show up. To make it worse, thoughts from my dream were back again.
No, I groaned internally. Stop thinking about his firm arms and compact body! I’m going to embarrass myself when he comes here otherwise.
I went into the house to find something to keep me busy. I cleaned up the house, then arranged my kitchen cabinets. Then, I found some dirty laundry and did that. Afterwards, there was nothing more to do. I’d wasted an hour already. There wasn’t anything else to do, so I went to my living room to wait.
It felt like torture, sitting cross-legged on my couch, hugging a pillow and trying to control my thoughts and slow down my beating heart.
Around the time I thought I should start up on lunch, the doorbell rang. My heart jumped into my throat as I jumped off the couch, so fast I almost stumbled. I paused to take in a deep breath, then headed for the door. I looked down at how I’d dressed up and winced.
Boxer Next Door Page 3