Get You Some_To format

by Lani Lynn Vale

  He had a name on his forearm in script that I could just barely make out—Francesca.

  A daughter, maybe? He didn’t look the type to tattoo a wife’s name on his arm.

  Then, as if sensing me, he looked over and our eyes connected.

  I felt the breath stall in my lungs.

  Those eyes of his, God.

  “Uhh,” I hesitated, unsure what I was going to say. “I’m your neighbor.”

  He blinked, and despite having the break from his stare, I still felt like I couldn’t draw enough breath into my lungs.

  “Neighbor,” he finally said. “Can I help you?”

  That voice, God.

  His eyes flicked to something above my head, and I glanced up to see a clock there.

  I returned my gaze to his, and then grimaced at the time. I was going to be so damn tired tomorrow.

  But I’d worry about that after I left…

  “Yeah,” I said in a small voice, unable to get all the words to come out strong like I’d been practicing on the way over. “I live over there.”

  I pointed where I’d come from, and he looked in the direction that I pointed.

  “I…I…” I blew out a breath.

  “Am I bothering you or something?”

  I closed my eyes and felt my throat swell. “Yes. Kind of. Sort of. Maybe just a little bit,” I admitted, holding my thumb and pointer finger together, making a small gap between them to show him how much.

  He didn’t smile, but I could hear a hint of laughter in his voice. “Is it the truck?”

  He pointed at the offending object.

  I nodded.

  “Damn.”

  I nodded again.

  Damn was right.

  “It’s loud…and I can hear everything. The impact wrench,” I gestured to the wrench on the corner of the truck that was attached to an air hose, that was attached to the other offending object. “The air compressor. And the constant vrrrrrrommm.”

  His lips twitched at my car sound. “Is that right?”

  I nodded.

  That, apparently, was all that I was capable of.

  My face was flushed bright red, and I felt like I was about to throw up. I didn’t do confrontation well at all.

  “I’ll stop,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  His voice was so freakin’ deep!

  I blew out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

  We stood there in awkward silence again, I assumed because he was waiting for me to leave.

  But I couldn’t make my feet move.

  “Uhh,” I hesitated.

  His brows rose, waiting for me to voice my next statement.

  “Are you okay?” I pressed my hand to my throat to indicate what I was talking about.

  He grunted. “Yeah. Injury from my drill sergeant days. All I got left of my voice is what you hear.”

  I swallowed.

  This man used to be a drill sergeant? I could see it. Even his hair was well trimmed. But he did have a beard. I knew that military men weren’t allowed beards unless they were in the special operation units. Then there were beards everywhere.

  “Oh,” I nodded, as if that explained everything. “Got it. Well, then I’m going to be going back to bed.”

  He watched me walk away, and the entire time I walked, disappearing into the woods moments later, I felt his laser gaze on my back.

  It wasn’t an entirely bad feeling, either.

  I kind of liked that I’d garnered that kind of intense attention.

  Didn’t I?

  As I made my way to my back door, I pushed it open and then immediately slammed it closed behind me. Once it was locked, I set my alarm—something my father had made me set every single night no matter what—and headed back to bed.

  After stripping down to my panties—I slept nearly nude, but I had to have underwear on for some reason—I laid down in my cold bed and shivered.

  After rolling around until the blanket was, once again, wrapping me up like a burrito, I thought about the man who was my neighbor.

  Even though he was older, he was still cute.

  His salt and pepper beard had been downright intoxicating.

  And those eyes!

  He had mossy green eyes, the color of dirty pond water. While not normally a particularly attractive color, on him it had been freakin’ breathtaking.

  The more I thought about him, the more the itch became a burn…and I had to do it.

  There was no other choice.

  I got up, making my way into the other room where my drafting table was, and sat down. Pulling a blank sheet of paper out, I picked up a piece of charcoal, and then flipped on the light that would illuminate the table.

  Then I started to draw him. His strong arms, the veins in his forearms. The smudge of grease right above a tattoo of a girl’s name—Francesca.

  I didn’t stop until well past three in the morning when the likeness was perfect.

  After finishing it, I stood up, stared down at the drawing, and wondered how weird I was that I drew a man that I barely knew. If what had happened today could be counted as ‘knowing.’

  After turning off the light to the table, I walked to the door, then took one final look over my shoulder.

  Then I walked to the bedroom and completely forgot about him.

  That was also a lie.

  I laid awake for a long while before I fell asleep about two hours before my alarm went off.

  The few dreams I did have were consumed with him.