Boxer Next Door

by Summer Cooper

  “Ken!”

  Hearing her call my name was enough to get me to stop. After a moment’s hesitation, I turned around, smiling. They’d both got up, and she was running her hands through her hair, getting rid of any stray leaves. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath.

  “Hi, Lydia,” I called back, raising my hand for a wave.

  “Did you only just get back?”

  I nodded. “I was at my new boxing studio checking the place out. It’ll be opening up soon, so it’s just last minute preparations.”

  I pressed my lips flat together so I wouldn’t keep babbling. She probably didn’t want to hear about all of this. But more than that, why was I suddenly so nervous around her? Everything had been just fine, until last night.

  “Boxing?”

  I was startled for a moment because Lydia hadn't been the one to say it. Then, my eyes dropped down to her son. He looked like he could be anywhere between seven and ten, and he was staring at me in curiosity.

  “Um, yes,” I answered lamely. I hadn't expected her kid to want to talk to me. “I’m a boxer, and I opened up a place where I’ll be coaching,” I added the explanation for both their benefits.

  The little guy’s expression lit up, and he walked closer to me. I had the urge to step back but forced myself to keep still. There wasn’t anything scary about the kid.

  “Hi, I’m Bryson, and you’re Ken, right? Hey, how long have you been boxing?” he asked. He didn’t stop to let me answer, though, just kept firing off questions, saying, “You’re opening a school for boxing, or studio or whatever? Do you teach kids? Do you think I could learn?”

  After standing there for a minute, feeling stunned and overwhelmed from all the eager questioning, I burst out laughing. It surprised me, and the kid, too, because he stopped.

  “Yeah, kid,” I said, chuckling. “I’m opening up a boxing school. And I could give you lessons if you want. I started when I was around your age.”

  “Really?”

  Both of us turned to Lydia at her question. She was looking at me with a surprised expression.

  “Yeah,” I said, shrugging. I glanced at the kid and decided they didn’t need to hear about my complicated childhood just yet. “I started learning with a neighbor of mine, but I really got into it in high school.”

  She frowned, her eyes drifting down to look at Bryson. “I’m not sure if that’s something I want my son getting into, though. What if he got hurt?”

  I turned to the kid, who was looking up at the two of us with a hopeful expression, first at me, then at Lydia.

  “Um,” I started slowly. “You could always let him try? It’s not like I’m going to have him start punching people or getting punched, Lydia. I didn’t even get to do that until I was in my junior year in high school. I’m good at training, I’ve worked at a gym before, and I’m great with kids.”

  Bryson’s hands pressed together in a pleading gesture and stared up at his mom, bouncing on his toes. I turned to her, waiting for her answer, too. Her reluctance was obvious on her face, and I couldn’t blame her. My parents had been surprised when they realized I was so into boxing, and it had been a year before they even found out about the neighbor who got me into it. He was always there for me, taking care of me on the occasions I got home to find the house empty.

  But with the hopeful look her son was giving her, she caved in quickly.

  “Fine,” she said. Then, she narrowed her eyes at me. “You better take good care of my son, Ken,” she warned.

  “Definitely,” I said quickly.

  Immediately, she was smiling again. “Oh, great! Would you like to come over for dinner, so the two of you can talk more? I’d like to hear more about it myself, too.”

  I opened my mouth. You’re not supposed to be getting too close to her, I reminded myself. Dangerous territory, remember?

  But what came out of my mouth was, “Sure, I’d love to!”

  I couldn’t say no to her. Not with her looking at me like that, cheeks still flushed from her activity, her eyes dancing.

  “Great,” she chirped, her smile widening.

  Not at all, I thought, giving in with a sigh.

  10

  Lydia

  What the hell am I doing?

  At that moment, I was in my kitchen making dinner. Only, it wouldn’t just be Bryson and me, since I’d invited Ken to join us, and he’d said yes.

  Fuck, I even used my son as an excuse! That made me feel very guilty.

  Still, I was happy to have Ken in my house.

  I’d felt a little worried when I had to leave him with Bryson. I couldn’t see them from where I stood as I cooked. But I could hear just fine, and they seemed to be having a lot of fun. Of course, Bryson kept talking about boxing like it was the coolest thing ever. I was worried about the lessons…

  But a part of me did trust Ken to look after him, or I would have to put up a bigger fight, and I wouldn’t have caved so easily. Which meant I was already in a little too deep.

  “All right, guys,” I called when the food was done and I was setting up the table. “The food is ready, get in here!”

  There was a short silence, then the sound of little feet running into the kitchen. Instead of heading straight for the table, Bryson moved to the counter. He opened one of the drawers, where I kept the spoons, forks, and knives. As usual, he helped me set the table, while Ken stood to the side with this awkward look on his face.

  “Do you need any…”

  I waved the offer away with a small laugh. “No, you can just sit. Bryson and I do this all the time, but you’re the guest here. Isn’t that right, honey?”

  Bryson nodded, his expression one of concentration as he set up the cutlery around the plates, putting a knife beside two plates and not his own. I kept an eye on him as he handled the knives. He wanted a little more responsibility, so I let him help, but even though the knives weren’t that sharp, accidents could happen.

  We set the table quickly and sat down to eat. Bryson sat next to me, with Ken across from me.

  “So, Ken,” I began. “Tell me a little more about how you got into boxing.”

  “Well, see, there was this neighbor…”

  He started the story, and the conversation flowed as we served up and dug in.

  Bryson had a look of interest on his face every time Ken said something, and when he talked back, he did it with such enthusiasm I had to remind him more than once to chew with his mouth closed. My son had always been friendly, but Ken was the first adult I’d seen him so interested in so quickly. Usually, if he didn’t know them he’d be a little shy. Bryson just thought the fact that Ken knew how to box was cool, and I had a feeling if I said he had to stop at some point, if anything happened, my little man and I might fight.

  Dinner went smoothly, and afterward, Bryson paused his chatting to help me clear the table and take the dirty dishes over to the sink. I couldn’t help feeling proud, and I was smiling unconsciously the entire time.

  He still wanted to talk to Ken after dinner, and I let him until it started growing late, and I noticed he kept yawning.

  “All right,” I said decisively, clapping my hands together. “Come on, Bryson. It’s time for bed.”

  “Mom,” he whined. “I’m not even tired yet! Let me talk to him just a little longer!”

  But then he yawned right after, and I fisted my hands on my hips, giving him what he liked to call the Mom Stare. He remained stubborn for a minute, then sighed.

  “Okay,” he mumbled. “I’ll go to bed.”

  He slid off the bed, and I followed him up the stairs to tuck him into bed. I got out his pajamas as he brushed his teeth, leaving them in the bathroom for him to put on. He hadn't let me help him get dressed since he turned seven years old and became one of the ‘big boys.’ Once he was done in the bathroom, I waited for him to get into bed then tucked the covers around him, pecking a kiss on his forehead.

  “Good night, honey,” I whispered.

  He yawne
d again, his eyes sliding closed. “Good night, Mom,” he whispered back.

  I tiptoed out of the room and closed the door behind him. I knew he’d be asleep in minutes, and he wouldn’t be waking up until tomorrow. I went back downstairs to the living room, only to freeze when I looked up and remembered.

  Right. Ken is still here.

  Suddenly, I felt a little jittery. I didn’t know what to do in that situation. Annara had given me advice she thought was good. But I still didn’t think ‘go for it’ in this case was appropriate.

  So, I had to send him home immediately.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” was what came out of my mouth.

  Ken smiled back at me. “I’d love some if it’s no trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.”

  I led the way back to the kitchen. I opened one of the cupboards above the kitchen counter and pulled down a pair of slim glasses. I hesitated, before pulling out the bottle of wine that was right behind it. The bottle was dusty, and I picked up a cloth to wipe it down. It was a present I’d gotten on my last anniversary party, before Mike decided to leave, more than a year ago.

  “Let me help you,” Ken said, coming up behind me and reaching for the bottle.

  I let him take it, pulling out a corkscrew and handing it to him. He opened up the wine with a light pop, and I held out the glasses for him to pour. He filled both halfway, then set the bottle on the counter, and I gave him his glass. Just for fun, we clinked glasses, and I giggled as I took a sip.

  I fucking giggled.

  Seriously, how old are you supposed to be, Lydia?

  “This is good,” Ken praised, picking up the bottle to look at it again.

  “A friend of mine gave it high recommendations actually. It was a gift.”

  He didn’t ask what for, and I was relieved.

  “Let’s sit down,” I said, leading the way to the living room.

  Ken brought the bottle with him and set it down on the coffee table, and I didn’t object. We sat a little bit too close on the couch, turned slightly to face each other, so at least our thighs didn’t touch, but our knees nearly did.

  We started talking. I asked to know a bit more about his childhood and offered some insight into my own. He was a little weary when talking about himself, and I felt he held a lot back. But besides that, everything went as smoothly as usual.

  Or would have, if I hadn't realized on our third glass that I kept leaving my hand on his knee when he said something that made me laugh. Fuck, I was unintentionally flirting with him, and I kept pulling my hand away when I realized it so he wouldn’t notice, but it would just happen again.

  Behave, woman! I reprimanded myself in my mind.

  If I was hoping to hide it from Ken, I was mistaken. The last time it happened, I saw his eyes drop to my hand. Before I could pull it away, he was pressing it down with one of his own. Feeling his larger, rough palm holding my hand had my breath hitching in my throat, as my other hand tightened on the glass.

  “You don’t have to keep doing that,” he murmured. My breathing was starting to come in a little fast because I’d realized something in his gaze had changed. There was no longer any humor in his captivating eyes. Instead, they smoldered, and my body reacted to the heat in them. “Pull away, I mean. I don’t mind it.”

  I wanted to pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about and ignore the issue, but it had been me that said we were adults, so I had to act like it. Besides, I was the older one, even though that was my problem.

  “I need to go wash the dishes,” I murmured, changing the subject, so I didn’t have to answer him.

  He held me in place a moment longer before he removed his hand. As I was getting up to go to the kitchen, he also stood up. When I gave him a questioning look, he answered it with a smile that had my breath hitching.

  “Let me help you out. I know I’m a guest, but it would be too rude to just leave you to clean up after you gave me such a wonderful evening.”

  I dragged in a shaky breath and walked away, Ken following me because I couldn’t find the words. Damn him for being so charming! He wasn’t making things any easier for me!

  “Thank you for helping me out,” I managed to say as we stood side by side at the sink. “You don’t have to.”

  Ken shrugged. “I’m doing it anyway.”

  I bit my lips, facing forward and concentrating on the task. It was hard, though, more than sitting beside him on the couch with only a few centimeters distance between us. I was pretty sure he was deliberately making it even harder.

  I washed the dishes in soap and rinsed, then he dried. We were close, to begin with, but every time I handed a dish over to him, he made sure either our fingers touched or our arms bumped. And he would slide closer until I was tempted to step back, but then he’d back away. I was lucky I didn’t drop any of the dishes. It was all so damn innocent, but because this was Ken, my mind had no filter.

  We hadn’t finished cleaning all the dishes, but before I knew what was happening, I was in his arms, and he was kissing me. I couldn’t think of anything else as he pressed his lips against mine, my arms sliding up his shoulders to wrap around his neck. I held onto him tightly as I gave in to the kiss. He licked my bottom lip, and I parted my mouth to meet his tongue with mine in a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

  This was what I’d wanted on Saturday night when he left me at my door. I didn’t think we would stop at just kissing, though. When we parted to catch our breath, I pressed my palms against his chest, trying to push him back. But his arms around my waist wouldn’t release me.

  “Ken, I don’t think we should be doing this,” I groaned. My eyes were closed, and I dropped my forehead on his shoulder because I knew if I saw his face I’d probably give in.

  “Then don’t think,” was Ken’s simple retort. I snorted, and he chuckled, then his voice came again, more serious. “Look, I want you, Lydia, and I know you want me, too. I don’t want to just go back to ignoring you like neighbors are all we could be with each other, not when I feel like this about you.”

  My heart jumped when he said ‘feel’ but I knew he likely just meant attraction. It didn’t matter, either way, because I felt the same. Need that was quickly overcoming my common sense. I knew that I needed to fight it because things could become complicated later on, then we’d both be acting like idiots trying not to run into each other and into awkward situations.

  I wanted him. So badly that I was leaning more toward giving in.

  Like he could tell I was wavering, Ken took a moment to convince me, pressing his lips back against mine. I was weak, so I gave in.

  He felt it when I did, and suddenly he was holding me tighter, kissing me harder until I was struggling to keep up. Then he was turning us around, moving a little to the side. I pulled away from the kiss with a small yelp when he suddenly picked me up and set me on the counter.

  Oh, wow. We’re doing it here.

  I was probably jumping to conclusions, but I couldn’t stop my thoughts from being stupid.

  “We need to be quiet,” I told him, trying to be stern and probably failing. “Bryson is asleep upstairs and I don’t want to wake him up.”

  Ken smirked at me, his hands sliding around my back to my waist, then moving lower until he grasped the underside of my thighs. His fingers tightened, making me gasp, and he tugged until I was right at the edge of the counter. It was just the right height, so when he fit his hips between my legs, I could feel the growing bulge in his jeans.

  “Fuck,” I groaned, my voice strained.

  “If you think you can keep it quiet,” Ken said, teasing, “then please, go ahead.”

  I decided if I couldn’t keep quiet then I’d bite him.

  Keeping his hands on my thighs, he ducked his head down. Instead of kissing me, though, his head moved lower, his cheek pressed against mine tilting my head a little, just enough for him to get to my neck. My hands dug into his back as he slowly sucked, nipped and licked his way down my neck, pausi
ng when he got to the collar of my blouse. He was driving me insane, and he’d barely done anything to me.

  “Can you take care of this for me?” he asked, biting my blouse and tugging it a little. Then he grinned at me. “I want to take things slow with you, so I need to keep my hands where they are at the moment. Besides, you probably wouldn’t want me to tear your clothes up, right?”

  I took in a shaky breath, nodding. My hands slid off him, and he leaned back so he could see what I was doing. The blouse was an expensive one, with tiny, pearl buttons that were frustrating to take off with how my fingers fumbled, because I was still trembling from arousal. If I’d let him touch it, he’d probably have ripped it, and I would have regretted it later.

  “How are you still this composed?” I grumbled, the blouse only halfway done. “I’m barely keeping it together here.”

  “Don’t pout. It’s not like I’m completely in control here, either. I’m trying so hard not to ravish you right now, Lydia.”

  His voice dropped when he said my name, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I glanced up and met his eyes, my fingers freezing for a moment. His eyes practically blazed at me, dark and unblinking. I sucked in another breath and looked down, working faster to get off my buttons. Then, I slid the blouse off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

  I didn’t wait for him to make the first move this time, leaning forward to take his lips, my arms wrapping back around his neck. His fingers flexed against my thighs, but he never removed them. After a particularly long, wet kiss, we stopped again.

  “I’d rather not do this on my kitchen counter.” The words were out of my mouth before I could call them back, and though my face was already warm, I could feel my cheeks flush.

  Ken was surprised, then he grinned at me. “What exactly do you mean?”

  I pouted. “It’s unhygienic, okay? And I’d like a softer surface, please.”

  It was my first time in a while, after all. I didn’t want to have to think of how cold, or how hard, the kitchen counter was as he took me. Ken didn’t tease me further. He pecked a kiss on the tip of my nose; then his arms were around my waist again. Guessing what he was going to do, I wrapped my limbs around him, and he carried me over to the couch. He lay me down across it, leaning above me with one of his legs on the floor and the other on the couch.