by Leigh Lennon
His intense stare bores into me. The harder he looks at me, the more I fidget. My normal witty comment is absent. For a loud mouth with no filter, being left speechless is strange.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shadow playing off the trees that scares me. As the night has set in, I am aware that I am all alone with this virtual stranger. In an instant, his smile calms my nerves as he leans forward and rescues me from the awkward lull. “It is hard to raise a child together when the parents aren’t married.”
“You’re speaking from experience?” I ask, now curious. He looks down at my empty mug, pouring me more coffee and whisky as he says, “I sure am. My only child was raised by her mother and me. We never married, but we were always this cohesive unit. That doesn’t mean we never butted heads, although I don’t think we displayed The War of the Worlds on our front porch,” he says, making a joking observation.
I can only offer him a bemused smile. This man displays the ability to say it as it is, like I do. I want to delve deep into his life because there is just something about him. Everyone enjoys talking about his or her children, so I start there.
“Tell me about your daughter.”
A large smile replaces his cocky smirk. “Emma is the only reason I moved here. I’ve never married.” His statement is accompanied by a flirtatious grin. “Emma married a couple months ago, and I packed up to be near her and her husband, who happens to be my business partner. I am a veterinarian from California and these freezing temperatures are going to give me pneumonia.”
“That may be a bit dramatic, Doctor. It really isn’t that cold yet,” I counter. “And maybe you just need a heavier jacket.”
“Since you were so curious and I’ve answered all your questions,” he says with a hint of sarcasm, “tell me something about you. Let’s start with your kids.” I am finding his speech and the way he talks a bit quirky and a little formal. Somehow, this seems to work well for my handsome new neighbor.
I finish my drink and let out a deep sigh. “I’m an air traffic controller, and I have two children. My daughter, Rose, is seventeen and my son, Kai, is sixteen.”
“Wow, look at you! You had to have your babies young.” His eyes widen.
“Yes, my ex wanted children, so I gave him two just like that.” The thought of my kids makes me smile. In my mind’s eye, they’re barely out of training pants, not driving and breaking their mother’s heart. I internally laugh because, talk about being dramatic.
Standing again, Nick walks over and inspects the beams of the porch in front of the large picture window. The light filtering through casts shadows on his face. “Your house looks to be in good shape. Is this where you lived with your ex-husband?”
I stifle a laugh at his sudden subject change. “Believe it or not, this house was a bigger wreck than my marriage was. I bought it while working up the courage to leave Rafe.”
“You don’t act like someone who lacks in the courage department.” He walks over to refill my coffee and whisky.
“I’m not, normally, but I had my children to think about.” But as I remember everything this house means to me, sadness creeps up again. When I left Rafe, Rose and Kai worked with me to make this place our home, as they got older and were able to help in the repairs. We replaced carpets, removed rotten old doors, knocked out walls, and slogged through about a thousand other tasks. It was Kai’s idea to make the living room and dining room one large open space. Rose picked the white shaker cabinets and marble countertops. They were just as much part of the new house as I was.
“It became my passion. A general contractor helped with stuff we couldn’t do, but I had my hands in every project. I wanted it perfect, but sometimes that didn’t go over so well with the men who thought they were dealing with some bimbo who wouldn’t catch them slacking.”
He walks back to the swing after the inspection of my porch but doesn’t sit down. “Again, I don’t want to be the fool to mess with you.” He raises one eyebrow, looking down at me, the mocha of his eyes almost penetrating me. The corner of his bottom lip turns up, forming a seductive smile on his face and I sense the heat instantly. It has been years since I felt a need to react like this. Good thing I am sitting or my knees might give out.
“Ah, I see you catch on fast.” I laugh. “By the way, sorry if I seemed rude before. I was trying to offset an awkward situation.”
His eyes soften, never breaking eye contact. “You make me laugh, Justine Hernandez. You will be a fun neighbor. For now, I better get back to it. I kind of want a bed to sleep on tonight.” He takes the top off my carafe, pouring an almost waterfall of whisky into my coffee. “This will get you through the night.”
Giving me a kind smile, he walks down the steps and turns for a brief second. “I just met you, and I can see the hurt in your eyes. I am not sure what you are going through, but I have been known to be a good listener.”
The problem is he’s far too good looking. End of story. Coffee is all I can commit to with this man. Getting mixed up with my neighbor is a bad idea.
2
Nick
The alluring Justine haunts my dreams. When I wake, the images follow me from room to room, making escape impossible. In the shared driveway of ours, I notice her car has been gone since early morning. I spend the first few hours peeking out windows every time I hear a car pass. Soon, I find excuses to hang out on my front porch in the hopes of seeing her again. With a broom in my hand, I snicker at my actions. I’ve never done so much sweeping in my entire life. In the thirty minutes I spent with her the previous evening, I saw something in her that drew me in. Can I give a woman what she needs? I know my limitations and the demons that haunt me.
“Hotel California” is playing loud enough that I am enjoying my time outside when I hear the sudden sound of a car door slamming. This is silly, I think, as I stand instantly on the porch like I am a little boy with a crush.
Instead, I see Emma with an armful of packages. Emma and Justine are cut from the same cloth. Something about them reminds me of a sweet-and-sour apple Jolly Rancher, my favorite candy. Even though I find them bitter at times, I relish the sweetness. In the end, the taste leaves me feeling good, like I did when I’d left Justine’s house last night.
“Dad, things are coming along perfectly.” Emma peeks inside the house. “I can’t believe it’s almost completed.” Handing me a coffee, she settles on the bench I’d put together solely for this occasion. “I’ve brought some items to give your house the right feminine touch.”
“Ems, as a man living alone, I don’t need a feminine touch.”
“Oh, yes you do, Dad, for all the women you’ll bring home. I don’t like seeing you lonely.”
I almost spit out my coffee. “Says the girl who was a bitch to every woman I brought home.”
She grins. “I like to call it being protective. You just haven’t found the right person,” Emma defends as I join her on the bench while we start sifting through the potpourri, candles, and throw pillows.
Though no one has tamed my heart in the last twenty-six years, I’ve always had Emma. Without her, I’m not sure I would have survived the loss of my parents.
“Okay, let me show you what else I have for you, and don’t think you’re saying no to me!”
There is more? Of course, there is—this is my Emma we are talking about. “When have I ever been able to say no to you, Emma?”
“Exactly!”
When Emma leaves, I decide a trip to stock my refrigerator is what I need to take my mind off Justine. As I approach my car, I hear a river, yet I don’t think I live close to one. Following the sound, I race around the corner and barely avoid sliding headfirst into the steady stream of water gushing from Justine’s house. The culprit is most likely her water main. I call my son-in-law, the only other person I know in this new city.
“Ty, I need a plumber, and I need him now. Whom do you trust?”
Looks like the groceries will have to wait. Once I contact the plumber and f
ind out Justine has used him before, I feel a little better about the situation. But talking to Justine is more difficult than I expect. My call bounces from department to department, sending my stomach into trapeze-style somersaults. The anticipation of hearing her voice makes me as giddy as a school boy.
A harsh but feminine voice answers the phone. “Hernandez!”
“Justine, I am so glad I found you.”
“Who is this?”
“This is Nick Wallace, your next-door neighbor.” I pause to let the name sink in. “While I was heading out for the day, I noticed a ton of water rushing from the side of your house. My son-in-law recommended a plumber by the name of Must Call Carlos Plumbing. He’s told me he has done work for you before, correct? But they need permission to enter your house.”
“I have a key in a rock next to my back door.” Her breath quickens. The house is more than just a dwelling place for her and her children. “Nick, I still have a couple of hours left here. I can’t leave. I hate to ask this of you, but . . .”
“Of course, Justine. It’s no problem. That’s what neighbors are for,” I say.
“Thanks, Nick.”
After I hang up with her, I’m as upbeat as a teen boy making it to first base with his girlfriend. No water at her house will suck for her, and if I play it right, she’ll end the night feeling pampered.
Since Justine had already worked with the plumbers, I feel safe leaving them alone in her house while I slip off to the grocery store. When I get back, I all but stalk our shared driveway. As I hear her car pull in next to mine, I rush out to open her door. What greets me makes my heart pound even faster. At around five and a half feet, Justine is slim, but not so skinny I’ll break her when I embrace her. Long blond highlights frame her striking emerald green eyes and her smile, still a little reserved, leaves me breathless.
“They’ve turned off your water but will be back in the morning to finish the repairs.” I apologize although it’s no fault of mine. “You are welcome to shower at my house,” I say.
“I figured I wouldn’t have water.” Justine sighs and her shoulders slump. “I think I’ll be all right. Thanks again for getting in touch with me; that’s awfully sweet of you.” She turns toward her house.
“After a long day like this, a shower feels wonderful. I’m not a serial killer, and I’ll even wait out here if you want.”
“Maybe later, I need to get some food in me.”
I’m ready to drop to my knees and beg, which is unlike me. I have always had a way with women and normally desperation is not part of that allure, though there is this urgency to know her better. “But I made chicken marsala and was planning to bring it your way.” The sparkle in her eyes makes me think my plea is paying off.
“Well, I normally don’t cook anyway.” One perfect red fingernail taps against her lips, drawing my attention to the spot. “All right, you’ve worn me down, Nick Wallace. Let me grab a couple of things. I was going to order in Thai, but the thought of a home-cooked meal is very appealing. Especially since you’ve come to my rescue more than a few times in the last couple of hours.”
“My door is unlocked. Just let yourself in.” I am ecstatic but play it cool as I hurry to the kitchen.
As I check the pasta, I hear the smallest little knock on the door. It contradicts Justine’s fierce personality.
“Nick, it’s Justine. Are you decent?” Her head pops around the corner of my kitchen. “Holy shit, what’s that amazing smell?” If her wide smile is any indication, I may have found one of the ways to her heart. Food is my love language, too. “No, seriously, I didn’t think I’d be invited to a five-star dinner.”
“I fancy myself a cook and feel I could hang with the best of the best.” The overconfident me is bonding with her.
“Well, let me be the judge of that. That looks like heaven in a Pyrex dish,” Justine states as she peers into my oven, over my shoulder.
Her compliment makes me blush, so I divert her attention to the wine selection. “Chardonnay or Merlot?”
“The Merlot will work for me, thanks.” Before bringing the wine to the table, I turn on some music in the background. “Crash into Me” by the Dave Matthews Band plays; one of my favorite songs.
We settle at my dining room table, making small talk as we eat. Her hand brushes mine as she takes a piece of bread. The attraction is immediate, and she quickly looks away.
She grabs her fork and takes another bite. “This is really good.” When she looks straight into my eyes, her face is as red as a strawberry.
“Is it warm in here? You are flushed.” My sly observation turns her face scarlet.
“No, it must be the wine.”
“Okay, if that is what you want to go with.” I stare at her over the rim of my glass. “But in all seriousness, how are you today?”
“I’m better today. My kids have decided to move in with their dad. It blindsided me.” In the one second our eyes meet, I see her eyes water as she quickly looks away.
Her opening up to me fills me with hope. It may only be one sentence, but it is one that shows her vulnerability. My hand brushes hers again, reigniting the connection. My need to kiss her and to comfort her consumes my mind, but she draws away from me. The pain inside of Justine wounds her deeply, and she is too special to scare away, so I change the subject.
“I am making chocolate mousse.”
“I’ll probably head home after this.” She squares her shoulders and raises her chin. Her tough exterior reemerges.
“Really, I thought you needed a shower?” I am nothing if not persistent.
“I honestly don’t think that’s a good idea.” She swirls her Merlot but sets the glass down without taking a sip.
“Okay, honesty, I can work with that. Tell me why?” I ask candidly.
“What?” she asks, and I hope the wine, the flirting, and my handsome looks are responsible for confusing her.
“Honestly, why is taking a shower not a good idea?” I ask again.
“I think you know.”
“Know what?” My intention is to be as coy as possible, so I play dumb.
“I’m not here to play games.” She slips me a curious smile. “Honestly, I find myself attracted to you, and you’ve been flirting with me all night.”
“Thank goodness, you sense that. I felt I was losing my touch.” I say.
“I’m not that easy.” Her smirk is almost hidden by her wine glass.
“But if you’re not that easy, we don’t have anything to worry about.”
Throwing up her arms, she playfully says, “Are you always this. . .”
“Endearing?” I ask, finishing her sentence.
“Not quite the word I was looking for,” she says as she sits back in her seat.
“I am a doctor that takes care of sick animals. How bad can I be?”
“Throwing sick animals in the equation is low, but I will say you have me there.”
“There is a lot more to this!” I say as it elicits one more embarrassed smile out of the beautiful woman sitting across from me.
3
Justine
“You’re being a real gentleman, I have to say.” His intent to seduce me is quite visible. The chase amuses me. Nick’s approach is completely opposite of Rafe’s. A butterfly sensation radiates low in my core. I want to abandon all the fears I have as this man showers me with the attention my entire body has lacked for years. Part of me wants this man to put me out of the torture I am experiencing with him so near me. The heat radiates off of him, and I am obviously his target.
“Well, let me clarify, I really want to make a move, but I won’t until I have permission.”
“Like a written permission slip?” I ask with a modest grin as I stand from my chair and Nick follows suit, closing the gap between us.
“You are too cute. Go take a shower, and I’ll get started on dessert.”
“Thanks for dinner. It was wonderful,” I say gently.
He reaches out, waiting for me
to take his hand. The second I do, he pulls me to his chest and gives me a gentle kiss. His woodsy aftershave is mouthwatering as sensors that have been dormant for so many years ring out in anticipation.
His warm hands cup my face. “Let me be perfectly clear, Justine. I want you.” In my disbelief, he sprinkles several intimate kisses on my forehead. “I will go as slow as you need. I am in no hurry,” he says softly, tucking my hair behind my ear, and then looking at me fully in the face.
“You barely know me,” I mention, feeling at home in his arms.
“True, but I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”
Somehow after my whole body is awakened, I make it to the bathroom, barely, now absolutely needing a cold shower.
After the shower and the dessert, we kiss a little bit longer with more fireworks riveting my body. I want to lose all inhibitions as his touch leaves me with a shiver that brings me to excitement. “I am not sure how much longer I can control myself,” Nick says honestly.
Rocking back on my heels, I agree with him in my heart. But every other aching desire is not on line with this level approach. I only smile at him and say, “Yes, I should probably leave.”
Bringing me close, erasing any distance between us, he leans down to whisper, “But tomorrow I am taking you out.”
“Oh, are you asking me out on a date? I want to sleep in, though,” I tease.
“Yes, and good luck with sleeping in since your plumbers will be here bright and early.”
“Well, fuck! I won’t be able to sleep in!” I say, throwing a minor tantrum at the thought of missing my Saturday routine.
Reaching for him one last time, he comes to me and kisses me gently. “This is where we must part for the night or I won’t be able to stay a gentleman much longer.” Though he had said something like this several kisses ago, I laugh because who talks like this, except Nick. We kiss for the last time and I turn, walking toward my house.