When She Least Expected It

by Jeanette Lynn

  When She Least Expected It

  Jeanette Lynn

  © 2014 Jeanette Lynn

  Revised and re-edited Feb 2018

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales, is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademarked ownership of all trademarks and word marks mentioned in this book.

  Table of Contents

  Please Read Before You Proceed

  New In Town

  It All Started With A Snuggles…

  Lions! Llamas And Fairs! Oh, My!

  Look, Ma! I Caught A Yuppie!

  Apples To Assholes

  De Nile Is Not Just A River…

  Spilling The Beans…

  Bungled Burglar

  Tabitha… Who?

  It’s All Copa-Septic… I Mean Copasetic

  Just A Little Bit

  All The Good Bits

  Acquiescence… What does that mean?

  It’s All Relative…

  Bobbsey Twins

  Have I Got News For You…

  Does It Really Matter Anymore?

  And The Show Must Go On…

  Tabitha’s Show And William’s Tell

  Meet the Geralds…

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books by Jeanette Lynn

  Please Read Before You Proceed

  Warning:

  This book contains tons of smart-assery, snobbish asides, explicit smexy times, misplaced fishing tackle, and a bunch of other stuff that might get granny panties in a twist. This book is intended for readers 18 and older.

  New In Town

  "You know, you don't have to live here anymore, Bit. You can afford to move somewhere else," Toby said as he finished putting the pipes under the sink back together.

  "Yeah... but I love it here. It’s home, you know?"

  He climbed out from underneath the sink and reached out, nabbing up one of my white kitchen towels to wipe his hands on.

  I repeat, my white kitchen towel. Erm... it was white.

  Oh well, I thought, I wasn't all that fond of that one anyway. I mean, white wasn't really a practical color for me—I always somehow managed to stain it so bad no amount of scrubbing or bleaching would get it out. Eh, maybe it’s for the better. I’ll buy shop towels next time, instead. A small, self-deprecating smile curved my lips, more smirk than humor.

  "That's true. It really wouldn't be the same around here if you moved away," Tobes agreed, sliding a glance my way, offering a crooked grin. "It sure would be a hell of a lot more peaceful, though," he just had to add.

  Snorting that one right out my nose, I choke-laughed, reaching out to poke him in the belly. "Yeah, yeah, wise guy. You're a regular comedian,” I drawled sarcastically, a hint of a smile in my voice. “Now, how much do I owe you?"

  Walking to the hook by the entryway, I grabbed my purse and started scrounging through it for my wallet.

  "Naw." Tobe’s hands shot up as I walked back into view, my upper half partially buried in the den of indecency I call a bag, and shook his head. "Consider it a freebie."

  Eyebrows shooting up to kiss my hairline as my head peeked over one of the thick purse sides, I rolled my eyes at him. "Don’t be silly. You did the work, you earned it. Ergo, I'm paying you."

  Toby’s lips thinned but he didn’t bother to respond. Clearing his throat gruffly, his heavy brow pulling down into a scowl—probably to hide how awkward he was feeling about taking money from me—he turned his back on me, kneeling by his job well done, and cleaned up the floor.

  This was the Tobe-sters version of ending a conversation.

  Yeah, buddy, I don't think so.

  "It's only fair," I added lightly, letting my hefty purse slip until it was hanging down by my generous hips, my left hand fisting the thick bag’s straps to let it swing.

  "Oh yeah?" he mumbled offhandedly.

  “Yeah,” I dared, which seemed to catch his attention.

  Grunting as he gathered his tool bag and gained his feet, a single, lightly grey sprinkled eyebrow shot up.

  "Then you'll let Rita and me pay ya for all the times you wrangled my rug rats for us."

  My eyes widened before narrowing. "Pfft! That's completely different," I huffed out indignantly. Of all the ridiculousness.

  Toby ran a hand over his jaw, eyeing me speculatively. "How so?"

  Waving my hand in his general direction, encompassing his slowly expanding physique, I argued, "You plumb for a living. I do not a professional sitter make, hmm."

  He reached up and ruffled my hair, undoing the bun I'd tossed it up in earlier, setting my glasses askew.

  Jerk.

  "Okay," he said with a mocking, placating tone, but it was more like yeeeaaahhh sure.

  Glancing down at my person, studying my mega bag, probably readying to talk some smack about it, he paused and blinked, then blinked again, like he just couldn’t believe what his eyes were trying to tell him.

  As if just noticing my state—or should I say painted state of dress—har-har—for the first time, he had to do a double take. "Whatever you say, Yoda," he joked as he jerked his chin at my green, paint splattered shirt and body.

  "I can't help it if I'm short," I huffed at him testily, to pause and add, "or painted green..."

  Big brother stared down at me, his lips twitching just so at the corners, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

  "Really, though."

  "Was this something new you were trying?" he asked ever so politely, ruining it by snickering.

  "No, you nitwit,” I gritted out slowly, like he might need me to draw out every damned syllable. “I was cleaning out the garage and a bucket fell off the top shelf along the back wall. It had paint in it."

  “I see,” was his smart reply.

  “A lot of paint,” I grumbled defensively, crossing my arms over my chest, taking my purse, slapping along my hip as my arm swung it around to my side, with me.

  "You look like a little green martian, Bit,” Tobe’s felt the need to point out. His grin slowly widened, while my mood soured.

  "Yeah? And you look like an overgrown, balding lumberjack, without any help,” I quipped. “What's your excuse? Hmm?” While Toby had a little saucer-eyed gape at my audacity, I brought my purse around to my front again. “Now, how much do I owe you...?”

  When Toby looked like he was going to argue, or shove his hand in my face and lumber past, ignoring me completely, I tacked on, “Or do I need to call your wife?"

  Grunting, Tobe’s tugged his ball cap off and rubbed the top of his ever shiny growing pate self-consciously. Glancing at me, he frowned. "You're a terrible little sister.”

  Head tilting as I studied him, waiting for him to notice me watching, I winked when he looked up and his hands instantly dropped. "Oh, but you love me anyway," I sang sweetly. Eyes crinkling as my lips kicked up, exposing a mostly straight set of average looking teeth, I gave him a big grin. And when that didn’t work, I stuck my tongue out at him.

  Tobe’s snorted and resumed his ignore Tabitha take on things.

  "You'd think you were fifteen, not thirty," he muttered und
er his breath.

  Apparently, the stubborn cuss wasn't going to give me a price. Hah! I'd just have to set my own, then.

  Once I'd managed to find some cash in my behemoth of a purse, I yanked it from the mouth of my bag like I thought it intended to bite me. "Here," I fairly demanded, holding my hand out.

  Tobe’s took the small wad of crumpled bills reluctantly and shoved it into his pocket without bothering to see how much it was. "I don't feel right taking your money," he grumbled, grimacing as he glanced up at me.

  "Too bad," I tutted, and that was the end of that. Walking him out, I gave him a quick pat on the back as he made his way to the door.

  "You could always do something nice for Rita with it?" I suggested.

  Pausing right at the front door, he looked thoughtful for a moment, but then shook his head. An almost anguished look on his face, he turned, dropping his stuff by the door, and reached over to hug me.

  "Still isn't right, family is supposed to help each other out," he mumbled as he pulled me in for a bear hug.

  "You did, and I helped you out too by paying you for it. Tah dah! We helped each other out," I teased, pulling back to look at him.

  "You know what I mean, ya little shit," he said in his usual Toby manner.

  I managed to duck this time when he went for the hair again.

  "Hey," he said in surprise suddenly, motioning out the window, jerking his head towards the driveway next door, "looks like you're getting a new neighbor."

  I couldn’t see, but I believed him. They came, they moved in, then immediately moved out. Though not that particular house, I thought, with some amusement. The place’d been empty for years.

  Ah, about time, I guess. This place could use some new blood. Maybe this one’ll stay?

  Toby watched the new arrival for a few minutes, something catching his attention, but then he grimaced. Usually not a good sign.

  "What?” Trying to lean around him and catch myself a look-see, my head bobbed about like a freaking chicken’s around his thick, wide shoulders. “Is he old and grumpy looking? Or is it a she? Tell me."

  "It's a he,” he replied after a lengthy pause, “and he's not old.” Another long pause. “Looks like one of them hoity toity types. Check it out." Jerking his head in towards the window and waving me over with a quick flap of his hand, he gestured for me over.

  Wedging myself in beside him, I stared at the clearly overdressed, pretty man for a moment. "He must be lost," I observed as I glimpsed a fancy man in the drive. "Probably got turned around and is just getting directions. Oh, see, he's on the phone.” A small glint of triumph had me puffing out a huff of breath in relief. “Told ya."

  He was driving an equally as fancy car, Mr. Fancy duds, and it only confirmed my suspicions.

  But Tobes, clearly not one hundred percent convinced, gave a slow shake of his head. "He's got a bunch of crap in the back... I think you're wrong.” My older brother glanced at me then, grimacing in sympathy. “Hate to break it to ya, but he's movin' in, Bit."

  Making a funny noise in my throat, my eyebrows tugging down, eyes narrowing, pinching to tiny slits, I studied the tall man angrily pacing the drive next door, his face pinched in a deep scowl of his own, talking—no, growling—angrily on his cell phone.

  He looked pissed—livid, even—just shy of raging, and completely out of place here. This was a small lake community. We tended to attract mostly retirees, long time hunters and fisherman—people who would enjoy the quiet and want to take advantage of the woods that took up most of the surrounding area. Not... erm, whatever it was he liked to call himself. Those fast talking, fancy pants hotshots and us slow-talking, laid back folks didn’t tend to mesh well. I gave it a week.

  Then, of course, there was that small, select few that grew up here and had just never left, like me.

  Toby had left, but came right back shortly after he’d met Rita, the love bug had jabbed him hard in the ass and dug in deep, and then suddenly the big galoot had wanted to settle down.

  These parts were a great place to raise a family—we're a pretty tight knit community out here. There aren't too many people around, so we tend to stick together.

  I've never felt the need to leave, content right where I am in my little slice of heaven.

  The pissed off guy ranting into his phone looked completely out of place here. His clothes were fancier than my mother's wedding dress.

  He looked... perfect... like everything was just 'so-so'. Not a hair out of place and not a wrinkle in his clothes in sight.

  Isn't that annoying, trying to be perfect all the time, I wondered. Makes me want to get him dirty... It made me want to put a little green paint on him and see what he'd do. Heh. Looking down at my green fingers then, I grinned.

  Toby, spotting my lips kick up, looked over at me, saw the evil grin I was sporting, and shook his head. "I don't even want to know,” he muttered with his typical surliness, “so don't fill me in."

  "Inside joke," I quipped cheekily.

  "Uh-huh.” Straightening from his bent position, stooped in our window snooping, as eager to get the down low as I was, he was still shaking his head when he went to retrieve his things to leave, turning to offer a nod in goodbye. “Anyway,” he said gustily, “I gotta go and you have to go do...” his hand lifted and he waved off towards the back of the house, “whatever it is you do, so I'll see you on Sunday, right?"

  Sparing him a short glance, creeping closer to the window, hidden off to the side so I could spy undetected, nosy neighbor style, my head bobbed in answer. "That house has been empty for years," I muttered distractedly, still watching the newcomer.

  "Bit?" Tobes called.

  "Yeah?" I mumbled, picking at my lip.

  "Sunday?" he asked again.

  Grunting at yet another interruption, I glanced up at him and just then it finally registered what he'd been asking.

  My older sibling was treated to a blinking stare and a stupid look on my face before I snapped out of it. "Oh, yeah. I'll be there." Worse than an old biddy, I thought to myself, my curiosity will probably be the death of me.

  "Cool.” Unruffled, his lips twitching at my short attention span and lack of focus, he, thankfully, kept whatever he could’ve said but thought better of it to himself. Just when I thought he might actually say the thing he’d thought better of and decided not to, he grinned, announcing, “You can bring the drinks."

  That skin prickling, about to get razzed feeling dissipated instantly and I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. "Is that all I am to you, Toby Monroe?" I huffed, pretending offense.

  He shrugged but pretended to think about it.

  "Oh, get outta here!" I mock growled, shoving him towards the door.

  The man was a rock, though, and barely budged.

  "I'll give Rita that recipe and give you her thanks in advance,” he chuckled out at me from over his shoulder, enjoying my struggle. Then, a definite gripe in his voice, “I'm not a damn secretary for you two, ya know. Ever heard of a telephone?"

  Then, as if I wasn’t using all my weight to try and catapult him into motion, he started moving, flinging the door open to bounce out. I caught myself, but barely, a short yelp escaping me as I caught myself in the door jamb. Whistling under his breath, he was practically skipping down the steps. Stopping at the bottom, a shit-eating grin on his lips as his eyes crinkled at the corner, brimming with mirth, he snorted at me.

  "Yeah, yeah, scat!" I said, taking over the scowling sibling role, shooing him.

  When he caught a glimpse of the ranter in the drive, he chuckled at the angry pacer and shook his head ruefully.

  Curiosity won out and, as Toby unlocked his truck, I tried to catch a glimpse of the fancy man, too. Toby’s head shake seemed sedate, watching the new guy snarl and gnash his teeth, a wild animal in a suit.

  Good grief. If that guy didn't chill out soon, he was going to bust a vein. His face looked friggin' purple!

  Now, if he is moving in, and I’m to
be the good little neighbor, I’m thinking I'll wait until he's in a better mood to introduce myself. A lot later.

  "Let me know when you want me to watch the kids again!" I called, glancing at Toby as he revved his truck.

  "Will do!" he shouted back as he turned out of the drive and sped off.

  The mad cell man's voice drifted over to me and the nosy posy in me couldn't help it. If I had nine lives, I’d probably be down to my last by now.

  "What the hell do you mean 'this is my only option'? What about my condo?” A short pause, and then he exploded. “You what?! You can't do that to me! It's mine!"

  Fancy Pants ran a hand through his short, sandy brown hair and gripped it, his mouth a grim slash on his pretty mug as his hazel eyes blazed fire.

  I had to admit, if he wasn't such an angry, snobby sounding douche, he'd actually be very attractive. He was made like an athlete, his body built and defined but not overly-muscled like some of the meat heads I run into around here from time to time. Nope, not this guy. Lean, mean, part time gym loving machine. Probably never exercised outside of the indoor gym, if I had to guess, Prissy Pete had pale skin that matched my own with its chalky color, but it wasn't pasty looking, just very fair.

  Only difference between the two of us, though... I fried in the sun and couldn’t tan to save my life—I'd know, I've tried—and I'd bet a pumpkin pie grumpy over there hasn't been outside of an office or inside of a gym long enough to let the sun actually touch him.

  "Teach me what?! What the hell am I going to learn in this piece of shit, podunk, hillbilly, hick town! There's nothing here! This house is little more than a rundown shack!" cell phone man went on.

  It wasn't, not by a long shot. It was a lovely house, though definitely in need of some T.L.C.

  With a mental shake of my head, I walked inside, unwilling to listen in anymore. It would probably just upset me if he continued to lambaste the place I so fondly call home and I just stood there and listened.