Your Neighborhood Convict

by Tarrah Anders

  Maggie is picking threads from her shirt, and the tip of her shoes are kicking at the rocks on the pavement. We’re silent for a few more minutes before I clear my throat.

  “Listen, as much as it’s nice outside, I will need to head back inside and get back to work,” I say, my tone implying I’m unaffected by her presence.

  “I want to keep seeing you,” she rushes out.

  “Maggie,” I say firmly.

  “Wyatt, I like you, and I’m not going to let my mom’s attitude define who I date.”

  “Maggie, I’m not really sure that your mom will change her mind on me, she was pretty adamant that she thinks I’m trash based upon my appearance alone.”

  “What? When was that? I thought she was just rude to you; I didn’t hear anything about her talking about the way you look. And besides, everyone has tattoos nowadays. Some people have them just more hidden than others.” She smiles nonchalantly, probably thinking of the butterfly tattoo underneath her right breast.

  “Don’t worry about it. The point is, your mother wouldn’t like that you and I hang out. I’m not coming in between the relationship with your mother.”

  “I appreciate that, I really do. But that won’t happen. While my mom will have a strong opinion, she will also get over it. She can get to know you on her own terms, but I don’t want her to control who I see and who I don’t. I want to see you, and I want to see what we can become.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I DON’T KNOW why I agreed to this. I feel like this lunch will end horribly, and there will either be a cold shoulder or a lot of yelling. I tried to stay firm in my decision of not getting involved any further with Maggie, but I like her, and she can be persuasive.

  Maggie and I are going to brunch at her parents’ house as it’s a weekend occurrence at their house, and if Maggie doesn’t come every so often, then her mother will complain. She thought this would be a good place to show that we were hanging out, as there would be a bunch of people around and her mother couldn’t cause a scene. We walk up their drive-way full of cars, and she squeezes my hand.

  I’m dressed in a simple long-sleeved dress shirt, and when I picked up Maggie, she started to roll up my sleeves, saying that she thought that look was sexy. I wasn’t complaining; if she thinks it’s sexy, then I’ll do it. But now, I’m thinking that move was more of an ‘in your face’ for her parents.

  “Who all comes to these brunches and what is a brunch?” I ask her in a hushed voice.

  “It’s usually just my parents, a few people from her book club and their husbands,” she replies, stopping at the stairs up the porch to fix her dress.

  “And brunch? What does brunch mean?” I ask.

  “It’s not breakfast and it’s not lunch. It’s brunch,” She replies.

  “Brunch is an excuse to start day drinking!” a chipper voice behind us says.

  I turn around to see a young girl stopping beside us.

  “You must be Wyatt; I’ve heard a lot about you. Mags here must really like you, if she’s bringing you home to meet the wolves,” She laughs. “Hi, I’m Madison. I live next door to Maggie. I used to be her date to these things, but it looks like she’s got herself a hot stud to replace me.”

  “Shut it, Mads,” Maggie says in a hushed tone.

  “What? I mean, I get it, it’s not like I could provide you with any special treatment that Wyatt here could likely give you, but still, I have endured so many of these brunches with you, I thought that you would break up with me a little more obviously.”

  “Oh God, shut it, will ya?” Maggie rolls her eyes as Madison turns to me.

  “It’s probably a good thing that I’m here, I don’t think her mom likes me either.”

  My eyebrows raise to my hairline, and I turn to Maggie. “So, you bringing home unapproved people is a regular occurrence?”

  “Both of you, can we just go inside and get this over with?” Maggie pulls at my hand.

  “I’ll walk in first.” Madison walks around us and up the porch stairs, opens the screen door, and steps inside. We follow behind her. Maggie’s head is held high, her hand in mine firmly. and she takes a deep breath before we breach the kitchen entrance where everyone is congregated. The kitchen is a combined kitchen and large dining area with French doors that open to another large seating area on the enclosed back patio.

  No one notices our entrance as Maggie grabs us two plates to fill with the sandwiches and sides. She scopes out her surroundings, and we notice that Madison has two seats saved for us outside. We step outside and take a seat. Once I’ve got a full plate, I look up to see that Madison has saved a seat for us directly in front of Maggie’s parents who look stunned to see their daughter. Or maybe they weren’t expecting to see me.

  Maggie stops and puts the glass she is holding to her lips and drinks the entirety of the contents in a single gulp. She reaches for another glass just before the doors and takes a deep breath before we walk to sit beside Madison.

  I’m wanting to unroll the sleeves of my shirt to cover up the tattoos on my arms, but it’s too late, her parents have already seen us.

  “You’re the fella who works at the bar, aren’t ya?” Maggie’s dad asks.

  I clear my throat. “Yes, sir.” I nod.

  Her father stands up and offers his hand. “I’m James. I thought there was something going on between you two, and apparently since you’re here for brunch, you guys are a thing. It’s very nice to meet you, welcome to our home.” I take his hand firmly in mine and shake.

  “Thank you, sir,” I reply politely.

  “Please, no sir. I appreciate it, son, but you can just call me James. And this is my wife Daniella. Please don’t let her bite bother you, she’s old fashioned,” he leans forward and whispers loudly.

  “Maggie, can I please speak with you?” Her mother, Daniella stands.

  “No, mother, I don’t need to hear whatever it is that you have to say. None of it will make any difference,” Maggie says firmly while staying seated.

  “Margaret, I think it would be wise of you to take this matter inside, so we can speak privately. I wouldn’t want our guests to be uncomfortable, or for us to be having this conversation in front of others.” She eyes me.

  “Too late for that,” Madison says under her breath.

  “Mom, I don’t need to hear what you have to say.” Maggie sets her plate on the table between her parents and us and stands. She’s a little unsteady on her feet but composes herself quickly. “Wyatt, I would like you to meet my mother. Mom, please meet, Wyatt, my boyfriend. Or I mean, we’re dating. I guess we haven’t really talked about it, but yeah, this is Wyatt. He’s great.” She looks between me and her parents.

  Boyfriend. Is that what this is?

  I mean ultimately, this is what relationships become.

  But a boyfriend? Can I be that to her?

  I enjoy the time that Maggie and I have spent together so far. Most of our time has been together between the sheets, but in the past few days since Maggie came to the bar, we’ve hung out together and actually have started to get to know one another.

  I like Maggie a lot more than I thought I would. She’s smart and very charismatic. She is a picky eater and has big dreams of traveling the world to eat all kinds of different foods as an experiment. She likes to read and admits that her guilty pleasure is buying purses for each property deal that she works when it goes through.

  Maggie takes my hand, and I squeeze it in response.

  “Hello, it’s very nice to officially meet you. I hope that you and I can get to know one another and that you can see that I’m not the man that you think I am.”

  It’s as if everyone’s eyes are on us, waiting for the next sentence to come.

  “And what kind of man are you?” she asks.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  WHAT KIND of man am I?

  “I am the kind of man who will treat your daughter with respect. I am the kind of man who will open doors for a woman, put her
feelings first, and will never raise my hand - or my voice - to a woman. I won’t take your daughter’s feelings lightly; I will sympathize and consider her in every decision that I make. I will talk to her, listen to her, and hold her when she needs it. And if she doesn’t want me anymore, then I will respect her opinion on that matter. But right now, she wants to be with me, and I wish the same. I respect that you don’t think of me as the man for your daughter, but I also think that she is grown enough to make those kinds of decisions on her own,” I rush out, out of nowhere.

  “And, Margaret, this is the man that you are interested in?” she asks with her eyes still focused on me.

  Maggie finishes off her mimosa, sets down the glass and looks at her mother. “Yes.” She nods.

  “Well then,” Maggie’s mom says. “James, can you please pass me that butter knife? I would like to cut my sandwich in half.”

  Is that it? She has nothing else to say.

  James looks at his wife in shock, as if he was expecting a little more fight out of her while handing her the butter knife.

  “Any man that will stand up to me and make those kinds of proclamations must mean what he says or would be a fool to say them out loud and risk the outcome if he didn’t do as he says. I’m not going to say that I approve of this relationship, but I will not come between my daughter and what she wants. You’re right when you say that she is grown enough to make her own decisions, so on that note, this is her decision or mistake to make and certainly not mine.”

  “Thank you, mom,” Maggie says quietly.

  Her mother nods and turns to her husband and our presence is forgotten.

  The rest of the brunch is indeed what was described by Madison. The amount of alcohol rivals the amount of drinks served up during the lunch hour at The Neighborhood. While I don’t partake in any of the drinking, by the time that Maggie and I leave her parents’ house, I am holding her up and carrying her up the driveway of my house.

  I sit her on the couch and go into the kitchen to get her some water.

  “Well, I think that went well,” she slurs leaning over to watch me in the other room.

  As I return to the living room, she loses her balance on her hand and face-plants onto the fabric of the couch.

  I place the water on the table in front of her and take a seat beside her.

  “Can we be boyfriend and girlfriend? I should have asked you instead of blurting it out to my mom, but I was nervous, and I wanted everything to go well, and I think I was just talking and talking and talking. And then you were talking, and you shut my mom up real good. Like good. I don’t think she was expecting that. Did you see my dad’s face? It was really good. There was so much talking, and you’re a really good talker, did you know that?” she rambles with a hiccup.

  With my finger, I push the hair out of her eyes and behind her ear and lean in to claim her lips. I pull away and she leans forward to kiss me again, her lips connecting with my chin.

  I fight the laughter bubbling up in my chest and shake my head.

  “I think it’s time to get you to take a quick nap,” I say, scooting back and standing.

  “But I’m not tired,” she protests, hiccupping again. “And we need to have this boyfriend and girlfriend conversation.” She hiccups again. “Then, we can finalize it with the fucking.”

  “Mags, we don’t need to have a conversation about it. You didn’t see me telling your parents that I wasn’t, did you? C’mon, I’ll tuck you in, and when you wake up, we can continue that kiss,” I promise her.

  “Yeah?” Her smile is lopsided, and her gaze is glassy.

  “Hey, I keep my promises.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I DON’T KNOW how to be a boyfriend to someone.

  I barely dated when I was younger, and I’ve obviously been out of practice with the opposite sex for the past several years. But I didn’t dispute her telling her parents that I am her boyfriend.

  So, I guess that makes us a couple.

  I let Maggie take a nap, however her nap extended into the night, and as much as I wanted to wake her, she snuggled into my bed and looked adorable doing it. I may not have noticed how much she drank yesterday, but I do know that she was very nervous.

  Adorable.

  I’m not usually the type of guy who says adorable.

  In the early morning hours, I’m lying in bed, wide awake with my arm behind my head. Maggie is softly snoring; her mouth is slightly open at my side with her arm across my abdomen.

  I turn my head and look at the nightstand for the time. The sun is peaking through the blinds, and outside, I hear birds chirping. It’s still early, just after seven, and I’m fully awake.

  Maggie lifts her head with her hair wild. She cracks an eye open and sees me, then smiles.

  “Good morning. Or good evening?” she asks, looking around, repositioning herself so that way she’s resting her head on my chest. Her hand lightly traces absently over a few of the floral tattoos on my side and she hums in content.

  “You slept through the night, so good morning.”

  “I’m sorry about yesterday,” she says, laying her head down while her breath brushes across my skin.

  “Don’t be sorry, I think that it all worked out in the end, don’t you?”

  “Can I confess something?” she asks quietly.

  “What’s that?”

  “I drank a lot. Like, a lot. I don’t really remember much of what happened once we sat down.”

  Wait, she doesn’t?

  We were there, at her parents, for another two hours. Where she had several more drinks.

  “What do you last remember?” I ask her.

  “It’s a little fuzzy, but I want to say that I called you my boyfriend,” she says, pushing her face into my side.

  “Yes, that happened,” I reply with a chuckle.

  “What else?” she asks.

  “Well, your mom probably still doesn’t like me, but she’s accepting of our relationship as far as I can see. Your dad is totally cool, and Madison is hilarious. Come to think of it, you weren’t too talkative after the showdown with your mom, but it’s not like we left too quickly after that. And after that, we came back here. You wanted to talk, but instead, I put you to bed.”

  “What did I want to talk about?” she asks.

  “Telling your parents that I was your boyfriend,” I say in return.

  “Oh, my god. I feel like such an idiot. Why did you let me say all that?” She groans.

  “Because, I guess I am your boyfriend,” I say lifting the shoulder she’s not leaning on.

  “I am? I mean, you are?”

  “Why not? We get along, we have great chemistry in the bedroom, and you brought me home to meet them. So, I gather from all that, that I’m your boyfriend. But if you want to retract all of it-”

  “No, no, no, no. I am okay with this…really, I am. You’re my boyfriend,” she says almost as if to herself.

  “And you’re my girlfriend.”

  DEAR FRIENDS,

  Thank you so much for your support. If you enjoyed this book, please sign up for my newsletters so you can be in the know when a new book comes out, or if you just want to hear me ramble about nonsense.

  My newsletter has sneak peeks of upcoming books, giveaways, and also fun stuff.

  Please check out my website at: WWW.TARRAHANDERS.COM

  I hope that in some shape or form you felt connected to my characters, I strive to have my stories be as relatable as possible, and not too outrageous. The sole purpose for me to bring my friends these stories is to feel like that too can be you.

  That being said, I write to make you happy. I wouldn’t be able to do so without your feedback. Whether if you leave a review on your favorite book retail site (Please do that would be spectacular) or if you feel like shooting me a message at: tarrah.anders@gmail.com . I would love to hear from you.

  * * *

  All my best,

  Smooches ~ Tarrah

  ACKNOWLEDGME
NTS

  I would like to sincerely thank Authors Jess Bryant and Maren Lee for cheering me on with my ridiculous idea for adding more to my 2019 release plan.

  On a whim, Jess made me covers for the entire series and without her doing so, none of The Neighborhood series would be coming to fruition.

  Blame her. I do!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I am a contemporary romance author who is all about the feels, with the twists of sexy mixed in between. I have been writing since before I can remember. Writing has always been a passion, that was kept it under wraps, stayed on the back-burner and never vocalized or followed through with my desire to be a writer, until I read a horrible book and thought: ‘I could do better than that!’

  I am originally from the San Francisco Bay Area, but living in beautiful San Diego with my little family while working during the day as a social worker working with the homeless.

  In other words, I’m a freaking superhero!

  ALSO BY TARRAH ANDERS

  More in this series:

  THE NEIGHBORHOOD SERIES

  Your Neighborhood Bartender

  Your Neighborhood Bastard

  Your Neighborhood Vixen

  * * *

  THE MELTED SERIES

  * * *

  Frozen Over |

  FROZE |

  Freezing

  * * *

  THE NIGHT MOVES SERIES

  STRIPPED

  | The Night Manager | Tapped

  * * *

  STANDALONES

  New Year, New You

  The Brute

  Summer Fling

  CLUTCH Endgame

  Change of Scenery