by Mia Madison
ON FIRE
A Steamy Older Man Younger Woman Romance
Mia Madison
Copyright © 2017 Mia Madison
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons (living or dead), places or events is purely coincidental. All characters involved in sexual activity are 18 years of age or older.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the author or publisher.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to the author.
NOTE: This story contains scenes of a sexual nature and language only suitable for mature readers.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER 1
Anna
“Don't do that!”
Shit! I shouted that without thinking, but there's a guy, who doesn't have a clue what damage he's doing, hacking away in the back garden next door to Gran's with an electric hedge trimmer.
“What the...” He starts to say, and then he thinks better of it, stops and looks up.
He glowers at me. The guy is mad! And crap! He has the kind of face you want to see smiling at you across a crowded room not scowling at you at three o'clock in the afternoon over the garden wall on a misty gray day in Cornwall.
Who the hell is he? The house next door to Gran has been empty for over a year. I didn't expect to see anyone there attacking the overgrown jungle at the back of the house when I stepped outside to do a bit of work in Gran's garden while she put the kettle on.
But mad or not, gorgeous or not, there's no excuse for vandalism even if the garden will take a mountain of hard work to clear. “That's a Bees Jubilee Clematis. Just stop! You're going to kill it like that.”
“But all this...” He indicates the mess of a garden. “Who has time for all this? Maybe I want it killed.” He's looking at me now, really looking, and it's disconcerting. “Are you always that bossy?”
“Only when I see someone doing a hatchet job on a plant. That clematis was lovely a few months ago. Beautiful pink flowers every summer. Are you always this angry?”
“Not usually with a woman I'm taking to dinner.”
For a moment, I don't get it.
“Yes, I mean you,” he says. “You. Me. Restaurant. We eat. That's generally how it goes.”
I have a feeling he has more than dinner on his mind the way he's looking at me and making my insides go to mush against my better judgment. He's gorgeous. Beautiful green eyes, crinkles at the corners now that he's not scowling. The mature type who probably knows his way around. I've never dated anyone more than a couple of years older than me.
But it's as if he expects me to say yes without question, without bothering to even ask my name and get to know me. Who the hell does he think he is? No way!
If there's one thing I hate, it's guys telling me what to do. My ex, Gavin, always thought he knew better than me. I should do this. I shouldn't do that. I ignored him half the time but the other half, I was run ragged second-guessing what he wanted, thinking I was making him happy, only to have him tell me to do something else entirely. Never again.
“Are you for real?” I say. I swore off assholes like Gavin last year for the whole decade—no, century, whatever—for life. And this guy has all the signs of being a major pain in the ass. Hot or not. “You have the nerve to call me bossy. I don't think so, mister.”
“Suit yourself, lady.” He laughs. “You know where to find me when you change your mind.”
“Ooooh, of all the...” Words fail me for once. And all I can do is flounce back into the house. The garden help for Gran can wait.
She hands me a cup of tea. “Here you go. What's the matter?”
“Thanks, Gran. It's just that irritating man in the garden next door. Who is he?”
“Oh, the empty house! He just turned up with his family. Moved in on Friday. He saw me struggling with my shopping and helped me in with it. It will be lovely to have a youngster next door ag...”
“His family? Right!” Not just an asshole. A prize cheating asshole. I'm back out there before she can finish her sentence.
But he's gone inside. If he spots me from his house, he'll probably think I came out to change my mind about that date. Fan-freakin'-tastic.
“Married! And he just had the nerve to ask me out,” I complain to Gran.
“I knew he was married even before I saw the little boy.” Gran sniffs.
“How?”
“Easy,” she says. “I listen to my granddaughter. You always tell me all the best ones are taken.”
She's not wrong there. They are. Well and truly taken. But there's no way that plant-killing creep belongs in the “best ones” category. No way at all.
CHAPTER 2
Rory
The firecracker next door didn't even give me her name. Ha! I love the way she blushed when I asked her out like she never had a guy hitting on her before. No way! Not with those curves.
Even the big sweater and sweatpants couldn't hide what was going on underneath. Sweet face too. And a hint of red in her dark hair– maybe where that temper came from—all tied up in a pony-tail. I can just imagine holding it tight while...oops, down boy. She's feisty, probably high maintenance and that means hard work. Still, feisty is good. Feisty and curvy. Check.
I want to call next door and make her blush again but I need to pick up Sam from kindergarten soon. Better not be late.
Mrs. Tamworth next door didn't mention anyone living with her but then we only just said hello and not much else before I heard Sam creating a riot among the packing boxes and I had to go.
If Miss Feisty is still there when we get back from school, I'll find out her name and ask her out again before she disappears.
Firecracker meet Bossy. Really, she has no idea how bossy I can be.
CHAPTER 3
Anna
I tell Gran I'll be back the next day to do her garden when the douchebag next door will hopefully not be around. There's a bit more work than I thought and I have no clients for a couple of days. I need to do something about that. The problem is I like doing gardens more than I like selling my gardening service.
I should have made Gran's neighbor pay me for the free advice. A selection of starter versions of the plants and shrubs he was about to hack down would cost him a hundred pounds or more at the garden center and take ages to grow higher than a foot or two.
But I must stop thinking of that creep. I've had enough of men like that for a lifetime. My friend Jenny says that there's no way I could have known quite how assholish Gavin would turn out to be.
He didn't have a big stamp on his forehead. His manners were perfect even if he tried to tell me what to do. There were no real red flag moments as he squirmed his way into my life and my bed and got the key to my heart
and my studio apartment in London.
No. The very first sign of what a bastard he turned out to be was me coming home sick from work and finding I couldn't get into bed because he was already in it! And not alone but with some stick insect from marketing, who I met at the Christmas party. I forgot her name but I would have been sure to remember it if I had known two weeks later she and Gavin would be conveniently using my place in their lunch hour for a shag-fest.
When I go back the next day, there's no sign of the married cheating scumbag next door as I work on Gran's garden. If he's watching he'll see exactly how pruning should be done and then how I deal with weeds, a ton of which have probably floated over the low garden wall from his side. I think I'll plant more bulbs for next spring too, though Gran has a lot already.
I'm there for hours, working away. I am absolutely not looking out for Asshole. Not. At. All. He has a big TAKEN sign around his neck. I'm not sorry about that. His wife is welcome to him, poor woman.
And if I'm looking to see if he's around, it's only to give him a piece of my mind. Yes. That's it. A piece of my mind. Because idiots like him should not be allowed to get away with anything. I'm still smarting at the arrogance of the man. At all men in general.
Still, I wouldn't even be here in Cornwall if it wasn't for that creep Gavin. I just need to get more work to stay here. Jenny says I can crash on her couch if I ever need to return to London, but the whole idea of going back to the bank and the city noise and crowds makes me want to weep.
I look over at the house next door but there's no one there.
CHAPTER 4
Rory
It's good to see my sister Sadie looking better. Sam jumps up onto her hospital bed and she gives him a big hug.
“Have you missed me?” she asks him and winces as she cuddles her son.
“Yes,” he says. “But Uncle Rory took me to the beach. He let me hold the string on the kite.”
“Well, I'm sure Uncle Rory will take you again even after I get out of here.”
“Try and keep me away. I think I enjoyed it as much as him,” I tell her.
“How's the new place? Sorry to land Sam on you in the middle of that.”
“I'm settling in. The neighbors are friendly.”
“Don't tell me you're up to your usual tricks with them.”
“Nope. I've been very good lately. I have responsibilities.” I look at Sam. “He's a good wingman should I ever have the hots for the women at the school gate, though.”
“You're gross. You know that. You should find the right woman and settle down with her. A different woman every night is no way to live your life.”
“Not a different woman every night. You know I work shifts,” I tease. She's trying to be serious but she should know me by now. That serious stuff is for other guys. Relationships suck. I've seen how bad they can be. So, has Sadie for that matter and look where she ended up—single parenthood city. Lovely though Sam is, it's a tough gig.
But come to think of it, lately, it hasn't been so much a new woman every night as not at all. Even before I had Sam staying with me.
“No doubt about it. You're definitely gross,” Sadie says. “I'm sure I'm not related to you. You must have been adopted at birth or swapped by the midwife.”
“Sorry, we're related. Everyone says so.” You just have to look in the mirror. My sister looks just like me with her dark hair and green eyes only softer, more feminine.
“You're an aberration then.”
“It's fun being an aberration now and again. You should try it some time.” But maybe I'm not such a good advertisement for that lifestyle. It was fun for a long time but it's definitely wearing thin. How did I never notice that until now?
“As if I have time,” Sadie says.
“Tell me about it. The little feller is great but it's twenty-four seven.”
“Who's telling who? But, seriously, thanks for everything. You know I love you.”
“Yeah, right.”
It's funny Sadie and I were never friends in the early years. With Sadie being ten years younger, we were too far apart in age to do anything more than get in each other's way, at least until the same no-good father bailed on us and we landed up with a foster family. That shit can get to you.
Sam and I say bye to Sadie, who will be going home tomorrow. Though she'll still need a bit of help, Sam will be able to sleep in his own bed after tonight and my leave at the fire station will be over.
But I'd still like to fix up a date with Miss Feisty for when I'm free again. Maybe I should just attack the shrubs again and entice her out.
CHAPTER 5
Anna
I'm just about finished working on Gran's garden when the guy from next door comes out, no kid or wife in tow, and waves over the garden wall at me. The low walls between these houses might be good for chatting to your neighbors but they are no use whatsoever for protecting you from the ones you don’t want to talk to.
“It's going to pour down soon,” the creep says conversationally, looking at the dark clouds gathering.
“Well, if it isn't Mr. Destruction,” I say.
“Your favorite plant destroyer at your service.”
He smiles and comes closer. I'll soon knock that smile off his face. “I wouldn't say that.”
“What would you say?”
“Oh, I don't know. Asshole, creep, moron, jerk...” I run out of words but that's because he's looking at me wide eyed as if I've gone crazy.
“That's a bit rich for not knowing a flowerless plant from a weed getting out of control, but whatever.” He shakes his head in disbelief and turns away.
I'm not letting him get away with thinking I'm the crazy one around here. “It's nothing to do with the plants. You asked me out.”
“And that makes me crazy? From where I'm standing you got it in one. Just forget I ever said anything.”
Aargh! I want to squeal in frustration. But he's gone before I can say another word. Asshole!
*
But as I'm packing away my tools, more than ready to call it a day, his kid comes out. He must be about five years old. The boy plops himself down in the damp earth and starts making a hill for the toy car he's holding to career down or something.
I bet that idiot has no idea how difficult it will be to get the dirt out of those clothes. But I don't expect he's the one wielding the laundry detergent.
Then Mr. Creep himself appears. “Sam? Oh, there you are. See that lady next door? If you're ever out here and she goes crazy, come right back inside and tell me or Mummy.”
I'm just about speechless. I'm not sure he's even joking. But I gather myself together before he disappears again.
“You call me crazy! Does your wife know she's married to such a creep?”
“What? My wife? Difficult when this mythical creature doesn't exist.”
He's standing there, looking bemused, his hand, in his hair and his T-shirt clinging in all the right places. Places I shouldn't be looking, distracting me.
“But you have a son,” I say bringing my mind back to the matter in hand. “With a mother.”
I point over at Sam in the mud. He's getting messier by the minute. That's pretty damning flesh-and-blood evidence in my book but the guy next door doesn't turn a hair. Surely Gran wasn't making it up. She might be old, but she isn't senile. “Gran said she saw you with your kid. She said a family moved into your house.”
He smiles. “This little guy is my nephew, Sam.”
“Your nephew!” Shit! I feel my face redden. “Sorry,” is all I can manage. I really messed up with him. Still, he seems like a bossy asshole anyway the way he assumed I'd want to go out with him. A very sexy asshole but an asshole nonetheless.
“I met your gran when I first moved in. She must have seen Sam and maybe my sister, Sadie, too?” he says. “Last I checked, I wasn't married to my sister. I thought that wasn't even legal in most of the world.”
“Not your child then,” I say stupidly. And then even wor
se, “Not married.”
“Nope and no again. I've been looking after Sam for a while to help my sister out. And great as he is. I can't say I had any hand in his making.”
“Right then, that's better.” But I don't feel better at all. I feel like a prize idiot. I kneel down and start re-weeding the beds I already weeded behind the wall. It's better if I can't see him. I can pretend he's not there. But he leans right over the wall. And I vow I'm going to grow a hedge or something in front of the waist-high wall– something fast growing and tall like Leylandii though I hate them with a passion.
“So, I think you owe me that date now by way of apology, don't you?”
I have to say, he's persistent and sure of himself. I'm trying not to like that about him. Why do I like that about men? It's perverse. No one tells me what to do! No one!
I get up because hiding is not working. “I'm not going out with you. I don't even know your name.”
He holds out his hand and I take it because what else would I do? His grip is firm but he doesn't crush my hand. I try to pretend it's just like any neighborly handshake but it's not.
Far from it. I don't want him to let go, for one thing. He has strong, capable hands, the kind that could hold a girl and never let her go, the kind that are attached to beautifully muscled forearms. The kind that make me think all kinds of unchaste thoughts. But I'm not going there. No way.
“I'm Rory. Pleased to meet you, Anna.” He smiles at me.
“How do you know my name?”
“From your van parked outside. Anna's gardening services. Unless you stole the van, you being crazy and all. So, dinner it is, Anna.”
“I don't do dinner, but yes it's my van and I do do gardening.”
He doesn't even flinch that I turned him down. That hurts a little. “You don't eat?”
“Not unless I do a lot more gardening.” That's not far from the truth though I'm sure Gran won't let me starve.