It's Complicated

by Missy Johnson

  It’s Complicated

  By

  Missy Johnson

  Book one in a series of short, sexy COMPLETE standalone novels

  Connect with Missy

  Website: www.missycjohnson.com

  Author Page: www.facebook.com/MissycJohnson

  Mailing list: http://www.subscribepage.com/missyjohnson

  Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/200294437116044/

  Copyright © 2017 Missy Johnson

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First Printing: Dec 2017

  www.facebook.com/MissycJohnson

  Chapter One

  Anna

  “Nick Jenson?”

  I stiffen and slouch a little bit lower into my seat as I listen in on a conversation that I know I probably shouldn’t be overhearing. Elsa, my design professor, and the college librarian, Ms. Vincent, are deep in conversation, huddled in the row behind the reference books. Dying to know why they’re talking about Nick, I quietly rise from my seat and busy myself in the row directly behind them, crouching down, so they don’t see me.

  “Yes,” Ms. Vincent says, her voice hushed and full of excitement. “Mallory Henderson saw his profile on a dating site. She went out with him, and…” She giggles, dropping her voice a few notches lower. “Well, do I really need to say it?”

  “When you begin by telling me that Mallory ended up in hospital, yes, you do need to spell it out for me,” Elsa retorts, becoming increasingly frustrated. “What happened?”

  For the love of God, just spit it out. I’m getting sore knees from couching down, but I have to know what happened because this isn’t the first conversation I’d overheard about Nick. It seems everyone is talking about him.

  Nick is the thirty-something-year-old single dad of two young kids, who’s lived next door to me for the last seven years. His wife died two years ago of a rare form of bone cancer, leaving him to raise eight-year-old Milly and ten-year-old Max alone. He’s a great dad, and full credit to him, those two kids are amazing little humans.

  I knew that he had recently started dating again, and to be honest, I admired his ability to put himself out there again. The problem was, women talk. A lot. So, after one or two first dates that progressed a little further than most respectable women would usually allow, suddenly Nick Jensen is hot property.

  I turn my attention back to the conversation in front of me, hoping I hadn’t missed the explanation of what the hell went wrong. You’d think I was twelve rather than twenty-two, given how I was hanging off every word of a private conversation.

  “He was too big,” Ms. Vincent hisses. “She said it was like squeezing into a pair of jeans that were two sizes too small. They were just about to give up when…” I jerk my head up and peek through the shelves, just in time to see her shred a piece of paper in half. I cringe and hold my legs together a little tighter. Fuck, that’s gotta hurt. “Ten stiches later, and she still wants to go out with him again.”

  “Hell, so I do,” Elsa giggles. She glances at her phone. “Shit. I’ve got a night class starting in five minutes.”

  My eyes widen as I push myself down farther and lean against the aisle, not wanting either of them to notice me as they walk past. I feel the shelf of books towering above me beginning to tilt, but I’m too slow to react. I let out a half-hearted cry as the whole thing tumbles over, burying me under a mountain of heavy textbooks.

  “Anna? Are you okay?” I cringe as I make out the voice of Elsa. She takes my hand and yanks me out. I flush and mumble a ‘thank you,’ then attempt to fix the shelf, which doesn’t appear to have the ability to stand upright anymore.

  “Leave that, for God’s sake,” Ms. Vincent says. “The important thing is whether or not you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine,” I mumble. Except for my pride.

  “What happened?” she asks, shaking her head. “What were you even doing down there?” Her expression turns suspicious and I freeze, my heart pounding. God, she knows I was listening.

  “Uh, someone had shoved a book under the aisle, and I was trying to get it out,” I squeak. “When I tried to reach it, the thing tilted and collapsed on me.” I don’t know whether to be impressed or embarrassed at my ability to be able to lie on command. “Seriously, I’m fine. Just a little bit embarrassed.”

  Thank God it was late because the library had been nearly empty. With any luck, there were no witnesses besides Ms. Vincent, Elsa and the guy sitting in the far corner of the library. I frown, realizing that I know him. More than I wanted to, actually, after that day last summer when I was pretty sure he flashed himself at me.

  “Nonsense. Don’t worry about it. It’s easily fixed,” she assures me. “I’ll have my son Nathan fix it up.” She turns around and waves. It takes me a second to realize that she’s waving at the creepy guy. He waves back, but his eyes are on me. I cringe and turn back to the mess in front of me, not wanting to encourage him. “You go home and relax. Have a bath or something. We’ll tidy this mess up.”

  I nod, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there and forget this ever happened.

  I don’t realize how late it actually is until I reach my car and see the time. Rather than bothering with cooking dinner, I Uber a couple of pizzas and then head home. My dinner arrives just as I pull into my driveway, so I save him the trek and walk down to collect them.

  Nick pulls into his driveway as I’m walking back. He waves at me through the window, catching me off guard. I flush and step backward, losing my balance on the lawn edging well as my grip on the pizza boxes.

  “Argh,” I cry out as I topple over, both boxes upending on me, coating me with tomato sauce, hot melted cheese, and pepperoni. I take a bit that landed on my chin and stick it in my mouth.

  “Shit, Anna. Are you okay?”

  Nick scales the fence and runs over to me like some kind of superhero, crouching by my side. The smell of his aftershave hits me, and I’m gone, but I pull myself together when I remember who my rescuer is, and just how much he’s packing. Flushing, my heart races as I stare up at him. He reaches out and carefully touches my cheek, then slides the same finger between his luscious red lips.

  “Tomato sauce,” he mutters, a look of concentration on his face. Oh, my god, look away. But I can’t look anywhere other than those dark, intense eyes. “Are you hurt?”

  “Just my pride,” I reply, gritting my teeth. Again.

  It was the second time within the hour that I’d fallen on my ass, and both times, Nick Jenson was involved. I’m beginning to think that I’m dangerous around him. I stand up and brush the pizza off me, piling the mess back into their boxes. I walk the few meters to toss them in the bin.

  “Grilled cheese sandwiches it is, then.”

  “You’re welcome to come over to my place if you like? It’s nothing special. Just a curry,” he adds. “And so long as you don’t mind putting up with two potentially very bratty children.”

  “I better not,” I say, as much as I want to say yes. I’d probably end up with third-degree burns. “I have exams coming up that I should be studying for.”

  “And an hour break to eat is gonna kill you?” he asks. “If that’s the case, then maybe you’ve taken on too much.”

  “I’ll have you k
now I can handle a lot,” I huff. My mind wanders back to the conversation I’d overheard in the library, and I flush because I’m not sure I can handle that. “I mean, I do have a big load, but so long as I keep on top of it…” I pause. Nope. No better. I’m just going to shut the hell up. “Dinner would be great,” I mutter, defeated.

  He grins at me, his brown eyes sparkling. “Great. Come over whenever you’re ready.”

  I walk inside, calling out for Dad. I stop, remembering I’d dropped his dinner, too. Should I invite him over to Nick’s? I shudder. That would just be awkward. I’ll make him a sandwich and tell him Nick’s helping me with an assignment. Glancing around the kitchen, I spy the note taped to the fridge from Dad. I wander over, then rip it off to examine it.

  Out with Mandy. Might be late getting home. Love you, Dad x

  I frown, happy it solves the problem of dinner, but annoyed that he’s out again. I’m happy for him because it’s nice to see him dating the same woman more than once, but I feel like I never see him anymore.

  Maybe I can talk to him about having some time together.

  I race to my room and peel off my clothes, aware that I smell like a tomato. What I intend to be a quick shower turns into a long one, and when I find a stray anchovy in my hair, I cringe. God, it’s worse than I thought. How bad must I have looked when he first got to me?

  I reach down and examine my ankle, rubbing it gingerly. It’s sore, though I’m not sure which fall is responsible for it. I compare it against my other ankle. Yep. Definitely swollen. I probably should cancel dinner and rest it, but the thought of seeing Nick again is too tempting.

  Dressed, makeup done and hair brushed, I throw back a couple of painkillers and make my way over to Nick’s. My heart races as I knock on the door. At least the burning pit of anxiety in my stomach is enough to take my mind off the throbbing in my ankle.

  “Hey.” He grins. His eyebrows crease as he smiles at me, while casually leaning against the door. His amusement makes me uncomfortable like there’s a private joke that I’m not in on. “What, did you get lost? I was expecting you earlier. The kids have eaten and are already in bed. Mills was really looking forward to seeing you.”

  “What do you mean…?” I glance at my watch, my voice trailing off.

  How the fuck had it been two hours since the pizza threw up on me? I flush and mutter an apology. He peers closely at me, and I melt when my gaze meets his. God, he is so sexy. How am I supposed to resist those eyes? And this was before I even considered what he’s smuggling below the belt.

  “No, don’t be sorry. We’re all good. I mean, hygiene is important. When the urge to wash your hair arises, you just have to go with it.” He smirks at me while I stare back, shocked.

  How the fuck did he know—? Oh. Right.

  Damn that strawberry scented shampoo that makes my hair feel all soft and silky.

  “So, are you still coming in?” he asks, cocking his head slightly to the side.

  “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” I say.

  “I haven’t eaten. I was waiting for you, so it’s fine,” he shrugs.

  “Okay, then.” I walk past him, my heart beating faster when his hand brushes against mine. I tuck a strand of hair back behind my ear and smile at him.

  “You remember where the kitchen is, right?”

  I nod. I used to come over here a lot when I was younger to look after the kids back in my entrepreneur days. Then other things became more important. I sit down at the dining table while he dishes up our dinner. I have to admit, it smells incredible. Almost as good as my hair. My stomach growls, angry at not being fed all day.

  “I didn’t realize you were such a good cook.” I grin. I didn’t remember this side of him all those years ago. In fact, I’m pretty sure the fire department was once called because he burnt a boiled egg. “I’d be over more often if I’d known.”

  “Yeah, I find it relaxing.” He shrugs. “And you’re welcome here whenever you like. You know that.”

  Did I? I focus on my meal, so I don’t need to think too hard about what he’s saying.

  “So, how’s college? What are you studying again?” he asks.

  “Architecture,” I admit. I feel shy telling him that because it’s what he does. And I’m pretty sure he knew exactly what I was studying.

  “Nice choice.” He grins, admiration in his eyes. “Though I may be a little bit biased. Are you enjoying it?”

  “I love it,” I say. I can feel the excitement rising in me that only came with talking about architecture and design. “I can only imagine the feeling of watching something you’ve poured your heart and soul into designing coming to life.”

  “It’s pretty special,” he admits. “Just wait till you experience that first time. You think you’re prepared for how it’s going to feel, but trust me, it will top everything. My first building? I drove past the damn thing every day for a month. I just couldn’t believe that I designed that.”

  “I can’t even imagine,” I grin, my excitement kicking up a gear. “I’d love to hear what you’re working on now.”

  “It’s a pretty big project,” he admits, his eyes lighting up just talking about it. “Not many people know about it yet. I kind of wanted to keep it under wraps until the final approval came through.”

  “I can handle big,” I say with a grin. “They actually called me Anna Likes It Big in school,” I quip.

  My eyes widen. Shit. Did I just say that? Suddenly I’m back at the library again, listening to the sound of that paper shredding. Riiiip. Oh god. Maybe I can’t handle big.

  “I’m sure you can.” He chuckles, raising his eyebrows at me. I cringe again, the nausea coming on. “You okay over there?” I try to ignore the amusement in his eyes. “You look a little…green.”

  “Fine,” I fib. “I just remembered, I, uh…” I get to my feet. “I have to go.”

  “You don’t want to see my big secret project?” he asks. But at this point, I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or if he’s serious. “I have a model I can show you. Without trying to sound cocky, it’s pretty damn impressive.”

  Could he have used any other word than “cocky?” “Cocky” makes me think of things I shouldn’t be thinking about. My face feels so hot, I’m sure it’s about to catch on fire. I grab my bag, muttering an apology, before fleeing out the door.

  I’m glad I handled that well.

  The second I walk into my room, I fall onto my bed and sigh. I wish I’d never agreed to dinner in the first place. The whole event was a nightmare from the start. God, he asked me to see his big model. There was no misunderstanding what that meant, was there? He’s hardly that type of guy. Maybe it was all innocent? Besides, he could have any woman in town right now. Why the hell would he want me?

  I sigh and roll onto my side, my eyes darting to my window, which just so happens to look right into Nick’s. Before I can comprehend what I’m doing, I’m on my knees, cracking open the curtains and peering out. His light is on, which gives me a clear look inside his window, through the transparent lace netting.

  My heart races when I see him walk in from the bathroom. He peels his shirt off first, giving me a close-up view of his well-defined, muscular chest. I glance downward, praying to God that those pants are going to come off next, but then he disappears back into the bathroom, leaving me crouched down on my knees in the dark, feeling crushed.

  It’s what you deserve for listening to stupid gossip in the first place.

  The poor guy has been through enough without me adding to it, but I just can’t help myself. It’s like driving past a car crash. You know you shouldn’t, but human nature means you’re going to turn and look, and you’re going to keep looking until the scene is out of your view. This is no different. After hearing the rumors, and spending time with him today, I need to know if they’re true.

  I hold my breath when he reappears a few minutes later, wearing only a towel casually draped over the lower half of his body. His skin glistens, still sligh
tly wet from the obvious shower, his muscles twitching as he moves. My stomach churns. It’s like I know something big is about to happen, but I’m not sure what. It’s the same feeling you get when your team comes from nowhere at the very last second to score the winning goal. I tense, biting my lip as his fingers unravel the edge of the towel. When he flicks it off and turns around to face the window, I lower my gaze and…

  Oh. My. God.

  Holy fucking crap. Sweet motherfucking Jesus.

  That is one huge dick. God, I didn’t think they made them that big.

  I can’t tear my eyes away from it. Something like that should come with a warning. Or at least, instructions, because I’m squirming just thinking about it. I feel bad for seeing something I know I shouldn’t be watching, but I just can’t drag my eyes away from him. My heart pounds so loudly that I’m waiting for him to look up and wonder what the noise is.

  He runs the towel over his body, drying himself off, and when he gets to his package, he... Oh God, he’s stroking it. My eyes widen. Is he masturbating? Nope, just drying himself, but fuck, it’s incredibly hot, all the same.

  I sit there, glued to the show he’s putting on for me until his lights flick off. Even then, I can’t bring myself to move, because while he’s obviously gone to bed, with those blinds still wide open, any movement over here is probably going to be noticed.

  Eventually, I work up the courage to move. Crawling across the room, I fumble for my phone. I need to tell someone. I need to tweet this or Facebook it or something. Surely there’s an Instagram page called “My Insanely Sexy Neighbor Has a Huge Dick.” I text my best friend, Kayla, my hands shaking, knowing she’ll appreciate this. Five seconds later, my phone rings.

  “You what?” she screeches. I wince and hold the phone a little farther away from my ear. “Please, Anna,” she begs. “Please tell me you took pictures.”

  “Of course not,” I gasp, my face heating up. “What kind of creeper do you think I am?”