Miss Hot-Pink Bikini was going somewhere.
He had to have another look at her. Unable to help himself, he got up. The dining room windows allowed him to see most of her driveway.
She was pulling out, the bumper of her Jeep gleaming in the morning light. He couldn’t see much of her other than a silhouette behind the wheel, hair swinging.
He smiled. Maybe later, he’d go over and introduce himself. See about that invite to dinner. And a swim.
He laughed and went back to work.
He slipped into the zone, the words flowing, and had managed to finish chapter one and get almost all of chapter two done when the doorbell rang.
Blinking, he looked up from the screen. Almost two hours had gone by. Now that was the kind of workday he needed more of. Too bad life had interrupted him.
Then he realized it was probably Pam, coming to check on him and follow him over to the truck rental place. Although he hadn’t gotten a text from her about that.
He got up and went to the door. Maybe he could get another couple of pages done this afternoon. He opened the door, expecting to see Pam.
It wasn’t Pam. It wasn’t even remotely Pam. He grinned. “Hi.”
Miss Hot-Pink Bikini smiled back at him, somehow looking wholesome and wicked at the same time. She was carrying a bakery box in one hand and a to-go cup of coffee in the other. “Hi. I’m your neighbor, Ginny French. I wanted to come over and introduce myself.”
“Hi, Ginny. Nice to meet you.” So nice that nice wasn’t even the right word. “I’m Ezekiel Grayle, but most people call me Easy.”
Her brows lifted, and the most comical expression bent her mouth. “Oh, really? Easy, huh? There are so many things I could say about that.”
His smile was so stuck to his face, his cheeks were starting to ache. “Not that I haven’t heard them, but feel free to riff away.”
“Not if you’ve heard them already.” She laughed, shook her head, then held the box and the cup out to him. “These are for you, by the way. That’s a chocolate cake. A really good one. I hope you like chocolate. And that’s coffee in the cup, in case you hadn’t guessed. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to make coffee yet, although I can smell it now, so obviously you did, but here’s some more.” Her eyes suddenly went wide, brightening momentarily with a familiar glow. “You’re a wolf. I can smell that, too. I’m also one.”
He took the offerings. “I am, and I do. Like chocolate, that is.” He liked her, too. A lot. Even more now that he knew she was of like kind. “And I could tell by the glow that came and went in your eyes that I’m not the only shifter standing here.”
“Nope,” she breathed out. “So are the Freemans up on the corner. And the McKinleys who used to live here. I think the town tries to group us together. To be neighborly and all that.”
“Well, the town did a good thing, then.” He tipped his head toward the inside of the house. “Would you like to come in and have some of this cake?”
“I’d love to.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you have a wife or a girlfriend?”
“Nope. No one to get territorial, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Sort of.” She stepped inside. “The place looks so different without all the McKinleys’ stuff in it. Not that I ever really came over here.”
“No? Does that mean you only just decided to be neighborly?” He could smell the coffee and the chocolate cake, but he could also pick up the scent of her perfume. A kind of dark floral, but soapy clean that fit her good-girl-who-might-be-a-little-bad vibe.
“No, I, uh…it’s complicated.” She suddenly glanced down and pulled a vibrating phone out of her pocket. She groaned softly as she read the screen. “I have to answer this, sorry. One of the images I sent a client isn’t right, and they’re freaking out.”
“No worries.” He was happy to stand there and watch her. And her legs, which seemed impossibly long and muscled in a way he found extremely sexy.
What was it about female werewolves that made them so irresistible?
She furiously thumb-typed a message, then hit send and tucked the phone away. “I have to go back to my house to fix this, but then I’ll come back and we’ll do this all over again. Not that you’ll remember.”
He wasn’t sure what that meant. “Okay. We’ll have cake then.”
“Yeah, we’ll see. Doesn’t always work that way.” She hesitated, giving him the strangest look. “You’re the most gorgeous man I’ve seen in a long time, by the way. I can’t believe you’re a werewolf, too. Figures. I mean, really. Your body is amazing. The tattoos are hot, too. Especially the one on your shoulder.”
How had she seen that tattoo?
She blew out a breath, eyes glowing hard. “The things I could do to you…with you…oh man.”
He just stood there. Mouth open. Female wolves were bold, but this was next-level. No woman had ever talked to him this way before. It was shocking. And possibly the biggest turn-on he’d ever experienced.
Then she raked him head to toe with a gaze that made him feel like he ought to be blushing. Or maybe he was. No telling what was happening right now, except that he didn’t want it to end. “Well…I…thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Easy. I’ll see you later, then.”
“Okay. Later it is.” He was mildly confused in the best possible way. His body temperature had shot up, and every muscle in his body tensed, ready for whatever came next. She was the boldest woman he’d ever met, and surface-of-the-sun hot. Also maybe a little strange. But for this kind of hot, he could overlook the strange.
She held up a finger. “There’s just one thing I really want to do before I leave.”
He was game. “What’s that?”
She stepped toward him, cupped his jaw in her hands, and kissed him, a small snap of electricity biting his lip at first contact.
So maybe he hadn’t been ready for whatever came next. He almost dropped the cake and the coffee, then wanted to so he could take hold of her. The heat of her mouth combined with the sheer unexpectedness of her kiss made everything tilt like he was doing ninety-five on a hairpin turn.
He’d only just straightened himself out when she backed away and sighed. “Too bad you’re going to forget me the minute I walk out that door.”
He frowned. “What?”
She patted his cheek as she headed for her house. “See you later, handsome.”
“Bye.” He stood there, watching her, still holding the cake and coffee and wondering what in the blazes had just happened. Had he been punked in some way? He couldn’t imagine who would do that to him, or how getting a beautiful woman to kiss him was getting punked, but he was too befuddled to think of anything else.
Maybe this was some kind of local pack initiation. If so, his other pack sucked.
A minute passed, and she was out of sight, but he was still standing there, trying to figure out what had happened. And how to get her to do it again.
And maybe how to get this grin off his face.
His phone rang from his desk. He turned, blinking himself back to reality. He put the cake and coffee down and answered it.
“Easy, it’s John.”
His editor. That snapped him back to reality faster than a bucket of cold water over his head. “Hey, John, how are you?”
“Good. How’s the move going?”
“Great. Getting settled in.” But he wasn’t ready to tell his editor how well the writing had gone today. Just in case it didn’t keep going that way.
“Good, glad to hear it. Just wanted to call and let you know that the first two books in the series are going back to print again, and we have some new foreign interest as well. This movie is really heating things up.”
“Excellent, uh, news.” Easy was still looking out the window, hoping to see Ginny on her way back.
“You sound distracted. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Just unpacking. You know how a move is.”
“Right, right. Well, let me get to it, then. How’s the book
coming? I only ask because there’s talk of moving the release up and—”
“Moving it up?” Easy’s full attention zeroed in on the phone call.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, what with the move and all, but we’re willing to attach a bonus to it if you can get the book in two months early.”
“Two months early.” Easy’s mouth went dry. That was a pretty major move up. “What kind of bonus?”
“Fifty grand.”
Easy’s brows shot skyward. “That’s quite a bonus.”
“Everyone here at Redstone Press is fully committed to making Tomahawk Jones our top priority. We see him as the next Jack Reacher. A kind of ex-military Alex Cross. But totally original, too.”
Easy took a breath. Being classed with Lee Childs and James Patterson was enough to make a man need a little air. “That’s very kind of you.”
“Kind has nothing to do with it, Easy. You’re a talented writer, and it’s about time the world knew. This movie is just the beginning. You’re not working on a book now, you’re working on an empire. That’s how we feel. Now what do you say? You can do it, can’t you?”
He really wasn’t sure. But that kind of bonus money was hard to say no to. All of John’s flattery didn’t hurt either. “I’ll do my best.”
“I knew you’d say yes. All right, I’ll let you get back to it, then. Have a good one.”
“You, too.” Easy hung up. At the moment, he wasn’t sure which way was up.
Between Ginny’s crazy-hot kiss and the fifty-thousand-dollar carrot that had just been dangled in front of him, his head was going in a million directions.
Why had he agreed to the new deadline? He hadn’t, actually. Because he knew better. He’d never get the book done in time. Not when he was trying to move into a new house and find a solution for his shifting problem.
He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, stopping midway to squeeze his skull. The idea of writing that many words in that short amount of time was beyond daunting.
There was only one way to do it.
Everything else had to get pushed aside. Everything. Unpacking the rest of the house. Dealing with his inability to shift properly. Any attempt to join the local pack.
He looked toward Ginny’s house. And sadly, whatever might have been with his hot neighbor.
There was no time to properly wine and dine a woman with this new deadline. Just because he didn’t want a relationship didn’t mean he was interested in a fling instead. Not with the woman he lived next door to.
That could go bad, really bad, way too fast.
He had a couple hours before his car was supposed to arrive on the transport, and he still needed to get the rental truck returned, but maybe he could squeeze out the rest of that chapter in between all that.
Actually, there could be no maybe. It had to be done.
With a deep, beleaguered sigh, he picked up the cake and took it into the kitchen. He left the coffee on his desk. He was going to need that.
And a whole lot more.
Chapter Seven
Ginny marched across the yard toward her house like a woman possessed. She had never done such an impulsive thing like that in her life. She was shaking, mostly because she didn’t believe she’d actually done it.
But also because, wow, she’d just kissed a man whose hotness probably registered on the Richter scale. She’d actually felt a spark when their mouths had touched. Wait. The Richter scale didn’t measure the temperature of volcanos. That was for earthquakes. Did they measure the temperatures of volcanos?
Well, whatever, he was lava-hot, and she’d kissed him, so score one for the forgettable Miss French.
Sad that he’d forget that kiss, but whoa, Nelly, she wouldn’t. Not ever. Not if she lived to be a thousand years old. Which would probably be awful.
Man oh man, she was wound up. What she needed was a good run, the four-footed kind. No, what she needed was more Easy.
Instead, she had work.
She was definitely telling Aunt Gwen about this, though.
Ginny hit the front porch, went inside and straight to her desk, a little cranky that her client needed this new graphic right away. It wasn’t Ginny’s fault the woman had decided to launch a new product on such short notice.
There was going to be a rush charge on this for sure.
She sat down and went to work, but Easy’s face and body and mouth kept distracting her. She sat back, tipping her head to look at the ceiling. She had to focus, or this job was never going to get done.
And the faster it got done, the faster she could go back over there for cake.
Sure. Cake. That’s why she wanted to go back to his house.
With a snort of amusement, she put her headphones on, turned up the work tunes, and got creating.
She worked until her stomach growled, then she worked a little longer. But only for as long as it took to finish and get the graphic sent, along with an invoice. Maybe that would keep the woman from making any more changes. Or not. Didn’t matter that much as long as the invoice was paid. Happy clients were repeat clients, and that was important.
But Ginny really wanted the job to be done so she could go back to Easy’s.
First, she’d need lunch. Or maybe she’d invite him out for lunch. Maybe if she worked really hard on maintaining eye contact he’d remember her. She knew that wouldn’t happen, but lunch with him would be so much fun.
She checked herself in the mirror, but nothing was out of place. All she’d done was sit at her desk. Not the most rigorous of activities.
She peeked outside. The rental truck was gone, and another truck was in its place, an eighteen-wheeler with tarp sides. Easy was outside with two other guys. He was signing papers on a clipboard.
And a shiny black Mustang sat in the driveway. Looked new. Maybe not brand new, but close.
He’d had a car delivered. She pondered that for a moment. Made sense. He’d driven the rental truck with the motorcycle trailered behind it, then had his car sent by transport.
She might have done the same thing when she’d moved, except she’d been twenty-six, and everything she’d owned had pretty much fit in her car. What hadn’t, she’d sold.
Her little apartment near Shadowvale’s library hadn’t held much anyway, so it had all worked out.
When she’d bought this house a few years ago, the move had taken substantially more than a single carload. And if she ever moved from here, well, that would take a big truck for sure.
She went back to the kitchen for lunch. Easy was occupied. And there was no telling how much more work he had inside. Maybe she should just let him be today. No doubt he had a ton of unpacking left to do. There’d been boxes everywhere in his house, at least in the living and dining rooms.
Or maybe she’d just leave him alone until this evening. The man had to eat, right?
She fixed herself a sandwich with a side of Green Grocer deli potato salad and a pickle, then grabbed a drink and went outside onto the rear deck. She took her phone out of her back pocket before she sat down. Just because she was going to leave him alone didn’t mean she couldn’t give him the opportunity to see her and be neighborly.
She sat at her little round glass table, enjoying the day. By the time her food was gone, she’d seen no sign of him.
Busy, she reminded herself. Moving was a tremendous amount of work, and it was exhausting.
What she ought to do was go over and offer to help unpack. But maybe he wouldn’t want a stranger helping him.
She slouched down in her chair and stared at the cloud cover. Why was her life so complicated?
Her phone chimed with an incoming email. The graphic she’d just finished was approved and the invoice paid, but now her client wanted a second version in a different color scheme.
Ginny stuck the phone in her pocket, picked up her plate and her drink, and went inside. Might as well work.
And so she did.
She stopped a few times to refill her drink, or get
up and stretch, and each time she looked outside, but he wasn’t there.
She knew where he was. Working, just like she was. Well, not just like she was, but unpacking and putting things away and all the stuff that went with moving.
But it was odd that in light of that, no stack of flattened boxes grew, awaiting pickup by the recycling truck. No bin filled with the paper used to wrap breakables. He wasn’t just letting that stuff pile up in the house, was he?
She was curious. Maybe he had some different unpacking method she’d never heard of.
Or maybe she needed to stop being so nosy and get on with her life.
But he was interesting in so many ways, and her life had lacked something interesting for far too long.
So she was going to indulge herself, and her curiosity in him, and do whatever made her happy. Being forgettable kind of gave her a free pass to do what she liked.
And so far she’d used that free pass only for good.
She straightened. Another forty-five minutes and she’d be done with her work, unless a new request came in, and even then she’d probably put it off until tomorrow. If the man was really working that hard, he had to be in need of something. A drink, a snack, a meal, some help, whatever.
She’d finish her project, and then she would go over there. If for no other reason than to make sure he wasn’t buried under a stack of boxes.
* * *
At last, the vehicles were taken care of, Pam was gone, and Easy could write.
He sat at his desk, woke up his laptop, and stared at the blank screen for far too long without adding any new words.
Then he wrote a new paragraph. And deleted it.
In the last hour, he’d managed one new sentence that wasn’t complete garbage.
It was like the pressure of having to write had sapped his writing mojo. Sure, there had already been pressure because of the original, tight deadline, but now that had been moved up two months, and his editor had reminded Easy of just how much was riding on this book.
An empire. What kind of thing was that to say to a writer? He didn’t want or need an empire. He just needed to figure out what happened next, then put it on the page.
The Forgettable Miss French (Shadowvale Book 3) Page 5