The Player Next Door: A Novel

by K. A. Tucker

  Clearly, she has a problem with something.

  Or someone.

  It’s nightfall by the time I walk the two blocks home, my arms huddled around my body for warmth. I wish I’d thought to bring a jacket. The heat wave is long gone, replaced by an evening chill that crawls over my skin. I was held back at school for almost an hour after my session by parents eager to speak about their children. Most of those conversations should have waited for parent-teacher conferences next month, but I humored them, not wanting to come off as dismissive.

  Overall, I think the night went well, with only a few off-topic questions and complaints that I quickly tabled to deal with privately. None of them came from Penelope, who spent the session brushing away Travis’s hand and wearing a sour expression when she wasn’t grilling Mr. Heffernan on the science program and Mrs. Marx about geography.

  Shane was quiet through the session and, despite his claim that he wanted a seat at the front, parked himself in the back corner, on the opposite side to Penelope. If I didn’t know better, I’d guess that was an intentional move. Whatever was exchanged between them in heated whispers before the meeting must not have been pleasant, because Shane ducked out as soon as the presentation concluded, without so much as a glance her way.

  I’ve been anxious to get home to find out if my suspicions are right and Penelope’s issues have something to do with me.

  From the sidewalk, I spot Shane fastening something under the hood of his car, his broad back to me. My heart pounds at the sight of him, as it always does. On impulse, I turn into his driveway, treading softly in the white sneakers I swapped for the walk home. “Do you know what you’re doing under there?” I call out from just behind him.

  He jumps, startled, and whacks the back of his head on the open hood.

  I wince as he reaches for the sore spot. “Sorry. I didn’t think you were so skittish.”

  “I’m not normally. You snuck up on me.” Shane grabs the rag that dangles over the side of his car and then drops the hood. It makes a loud, hollow sound as it closes. “And yeah, I do know what I’m doing under there.”

  “Really? Because I remember you flagging down a tow-truck driver to help us change a tire once.” We were on our way home from shopping in Philly one Sunday afternoon.

  He grins. “You remember that?”

  I remember everything. Oddly enough, I’m remembering the good over the bad more often lately.

  Shane chuckles as he rubs the streaks of black grime from his fingers with the rag. “I’ve had my hands on every square inch of this beast. I know her well.”

  “Lucky car.”

  He cocks his head, a flicker of surprise dancing across his face as if he hadn’t expected such boldness from me.

  Boy, is he in for a surprise. “What kind of car is it, anyway?”

  “A ’67 Chevy Impala. I rebuilt her with my dad when I moved back to Polson Falls.”

  “Wow.”

  “Is that a genuine wow or a ‘you’re a loser’ wow?” He leans against the hood. “I can’t tell with you sometimes.” His voice is deep and grating, but deliciously so.

  “It’s real. I’m impressed. See? Seems you can impress me.” I get lost in him for a moment—in his angular jaw and his full lips, in the way his long legs are stretched out, almost as if he’s inviting me to sidle in between them like I used to do when we were younger. I’d take any opportunity to dive against him back then, to revel in his strength and his warm skin, and the almost overpowering fragrance of Axe bodywash that all the teenage boys used. How acutely I remember what seem like stolen moments now, so many years later.

  Shane’s eyes do their own roaming—along the seam of my blouse and the small slit in my skirt, down to my decidedly unsexy sneakers.

  Is he waiting for me to make the next move, seeing as he made the first?

  “Cody’s inside,” Shane says evenly, as if reading my mind. “I picked him up from Pen’s parents’ house after the presentation. Which was great, by the way. You were great.” He punctuates that with a smile.

  I guess climbing onto Shane’s lap probably isn’t a good idea. “So, what was Penelope’s problem tonight?”

  His expression turns hard. “What isn’t her problem when it comes to me?”

  “I thought you guys were good now.”

  “Compared to what we were? Sure. She’s accepted that we’ll never happen again, and she’s moved on with Travis.” There’s a hint of something in Shane’s voice when he says the name.

  “Do you not like him?”

  “He’s fine. Bit of an arrogant ass. He works at one of those big auditing firms in Philly and loves to talk about how much money he makes and what they’re spending it on next. He’s always trying to one-up me, like he hasn’t figured out I don’t give a shit. I’m not competing.” He shrugs. “But he’s good to Cody, and having him around keeps her off my back most of the time, so I really hope they work out. But she still likes to try to control my life, and she uses Cody as an excuse.”

  I hesitate. “Was tonight about me?” About what she saw through the window?

  He averts his gaze, giving me my answer.

  “Is it because I’m Cody’s teacher or because of what happened between her father and my mother?” I can’t blame her for the former. It was one of my reasons for not letting this happen. But the affair was not my fault any more than it was hers.

  He sighs heavily. “She’d come up with some bullshit reason no matter what. She’s always been like that.”

  That doesn’t answer my question, but I don’t push it. “So, what’d you tell her?” I hold my breath. Does Penelope have the power to sway Shane’s decision about asking me out? She is the mother of his child.

  “I said that we’re neighbors and friends and, if something were to happen between us, we’d take it really slow to protect Cody.”

  “If something were to happen,” I echo. Does he remember that kiss in the rain?

  He smirks. “She doesn’t need to have real-time updates. It’s none of her business. And there’s no rule against us dating. I’ve already checked.”

  That raises my eyebrows.

  “I asked a friend’s wife who works for the school board. I wanted to make sure before I made my move.” He smiles sheepishly.

  That Shane went to the effort is endearing. Still … “There might not be a rule, but it doesn’t look good on me. And I don’t want my students talking about my dating life, which they’ll do if I’m dating one of their dads.”

  He nods, as if he anticipated that. “That’s why we’re going to keep it on the down low until the end of the school year. Cody doesn’t have to find out. I told him we were friends in high school, but that’s all I’ve told him.”

  Secretly dating Shane is exactly what I insisted I didn’t want to be doing, back when Becca was teasing me about my crush and I was vehemently denying it. I find myself mulling this idea over through a different lens now, though. There are benefits to this plan. Keeping a relationship with Shane quiet means I don’t have to answer intrusive questions if it doesn’t work out. And being next-door neighbors and childhood friends—if we can call it that—does provide a strong cover story for why we’d be seen together. Plus, Cody lives at his mother’s a lot of the time. We can avoid telling him altogether until it makes sense to. If it ever makes sense to.

  I rationalize this plan in my mind, marking off all the reasons it could work, why it could be ideal, because I want it to be.

  “Just one dinner, huh?” I tease.

  “That’s where we’re going to start, but I’m hoping that’s not where we’re going to end.” His smile is uncharacteristically shy as he hooks his finger through one of mine, pulling me in closer. “I wouldn’t be pursuing this if I was looking for a casual hookup. You must have figured that out by now.”

  “Your effort has been impressive.” I revel in the feel of his thumb drawing circles over my palm. “This fence has never looked better.”

  He chuckles
. “I did that because I’m a nice guy, not because I was trying to get laid.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  His gaze drifts to my mouth for a moment, the weight of it palpable. I expect him to pull me in close and kiss me like he did last Friday night. I wait for it, my heart hammering in my chest in anticipation.

  But he merely sighs. “Penelope doesn’t get a say in who I date. I’ve never said a word about anyone she’s dated, and a couple of them have been real dickheads. But as long as they’re good to Cody, that’s all that matters. I expect the same courtesy in return.”

  “She’s never given you issues before?”

  “She’s never heard of any of them before. I haven’t introduced any woman in my life to Cody yet.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugs. “I just figured there wasn’t any point unless it was serious, and I’ve never been serious about any of them.”

  The sound of Shane’s front door creaking open carries into the quiet night. Shane instantly releases my hand.

  “Dad! I can’t get past this level!” Cody pokes his head out, his mop of brown hair that matches his father’s disheveled. “Oh, hey, Ms. Reed.”

  I smile. “Hi, Cody.”

  His eyes dart to Shane. “Can you help me? Now?” There’s that touch of impatience in his tone that I’ve heard him use around his father before.

  “Be there in five, bud. I have to clean up out here. Unless you want to come and help me?”

  The brown-haired head ducks back inside.

  “Yeah, didn’t think so.” Shane eases off his hood to tower over me. “He got a PS4 a few weeks ago and he’s becoming an addict. I think Penelope and I are going to have to agree on daily time limits.”

  “His teacher approves of that idea.” Behind my smile is a lingering wariness over the reminder that Shane is tied to Penelope for the rest of his life, whether she makes him want to saw off vital appendages or not. Which means as long as this—whatever this is—between Shane and me exists, she’s also in my life.

  But we are no longer teenagers trying to survive the treacherous social strata of high school, where people like Penelope Rhodes can make my life hell. And, now that I’ve stopped focusing all my energy on pushing Shane away, I’m seeing him for what he has grown into—a responsible adult and a loving, devoted father. Add in his physical attributes and he’s basically any woman’s dream.

  I’m not about to give up this chance because she doesn’t approve.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you home,” he offers.

  We cross Shane’s lawn to mine in comfortable silence. Shane wordlessly takes my hand as I climb over my white picket fence and doesn’t let go until we’ve reached my porch steps.

  “I know it’s a safe neighborhood, but you really should leave your light on at night,” he says, standing idly by as I fumble in the dark for my keys.

  “I know. I wasn’t thinking when I left.” I was too nervous about the presentation.

  “I could set it up on a timer for you, so you don’t have to worry about it if you forget.”

  “You know how to do that?” With a turn of my wrist, the dead bolt unlocks. “You’re far more useful to me than I first suspected.”

  He chuckles. “Listen, I’m working tomorrow and then I’ve got Cody until Monday. Why don’t we do dinner on Tuesday night, if you’re free?” He climbs the three steps to tower over me on my front porch. Even in the dark, I can make out his handsome features. “We can continue discussing exactly how useful I am to you.” His voice is grating, his unspoken promise clear.

  If Cody weren’t in the picture, now would be about the time I’d do something rash like grab Shane by his belt and lead him up to my bed. “Sounds good,” I manage around a hard swallow.

  He hesitates, checking his porch over his shoulder—to make sure Cody hasn’t poked his head out again, I assume—before he leans in to lay a soft kiss against my cheek, a mere inch from my mouth.

  It’s an obvious bait. My heart races as I battle the urge to turn and catch his lips with mine.

  But before I get the chance to lose to my hormones, Shane backs away, moving down the steps, out of my reach. “’Night, Scarlet.”

  “Good night.” Can he hear my frustration screaming in those two little words?

  His lips curl into a wicked smile. “Do I need to close my curtains tonight?”

  “I don’t know. Do you?” I ask pointedly.

  He gives his jaw a lazy scratch. “It’s probably a good idea. I’ve heard my new neighbor likes to spy on me at night. Wouldn’t want to give her the wrong idea.”

  “She sounds like a real lunatic.”

  “Nah. She’s pretty cool.” He chuckles as he walks away, his running shoes dragging along my walkway as if he’s reluctant to leave. “Sweet dreams.”

  “You too.”

  That night, I steal a glimpse into Shane’s room as I’m readying for bed. Much to my disappointment, his light remains out.

  It takes me forever to fall asleep, my heart and my mind still reeling from today’s swift turn of events. I want this to happen, and yet I cannot ignore the dark cloud of wariness that lingers, the one there to remind me we’re no longer seventeen, and there are careers, children, and vindictive ex-girlfriends to consider.

  Nineteen

  It’s after lunch on Saturday when I trudge back upstairs to finish the first coat of paint. My back and arms ache, and streaks of periwinkle blue mar my skin, but if I keep going at this pace, I might be finished with my bedroom by the end of the weekend.

  I steal a glance out my window—my favorite pastime lately, it seems—to the house beside me. I heard the rumble of Shane’s truck just after nine this morning. Two doors slammed and, when I peeked, I saw Cody skipping up the steps, chattering excitedly, oblivious to the way his dad dragged his feet and rubbed his eyes.

  Shane looked exhausted.

  His curtains are still drawn. I assume it’s to block out the daylight so he can catch up on sleep after a twenty-four-hour shift.

  He’ll be in bed for another few hours, at least.

  And I am becoming far too interested in Shane’s schedule for my own damn good.

  With grim determination to push away thoughts of the sleeping man next door, I crank my music until I can’t hear myself think and fall into a rhythm—dip brush in tray, roll off excess, smooth over wall, repeat.

  The minutes melt away as the unappealing mint green slowly vanishes, stroke by stroke, until a faint noise comes from downstairs. It’s barely audible over my music.

  I set my roller down. I’m halfway across the room to mute the speaker when footfalls pound up my stairs.

  Inside my house!

  I freeze as a scream rises in my throat, ready to let loose.

  “Scarlet?” Shane’s heavy, deep voice carries.

  “Jesus!” I heave a sigh of relief a second before his face appears at my railing, my hand pressing against my chest. My heart thumps hard and fast. “I thought I was about to be murdered!”

  “Sorry.” He grins sheepishly. “Saw you in your window, painting. I was knocking for a while but you weren’t answering. I figured you couldn’t hear me.” He climbs the rest of the way.

  I dial down the music to a low hum. “How did you get in here?” Twelve years living in the city means my doors are always locked.

  He holds up a key dangling from a blue string. “Iris had been falling a lot over the last few months, so her family gave me a spare in case she didn’t answer her phone and I needed to check on her. I forgot I had it until now. Hope you don’t mind.”

  The way my breath caught at the sight of his handsome face? No, I don’t mind Shane’s surprise visit and key misuse at all. I would have been pissed had I found out later that I missed his visit. “That was very fireman-y of you.” Iris was lucky to have him as a neighbor.

  “I’ll leave it here.” He loops it around the banister post. “But you should probably change your locks.”

  “I’ll add it to t
he never-ending list. What are you doing here, anyway?” I check my bedside clock. It’s only one. He wouldn’t have gotten more than four hours. The dark circles under his eyes can attest to that. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

  “I never sleep much when I have Cody for the weekend.” He wanders into the middle of my bedroom. His gaze drifts over my bed, my nightstand, the half-dozen boxes that have yet to be unpacked, my laundry basket where my pajamas and bra are strewn haphazardly—because I wasn’t expecting company—before shifting to my walls. “It’s looking good.”

  So do you. He must have showered when he got home from work and then went to bed with damp hair because it’s dried into a sexy, tousled mess. He’s wearing a plain white T-shirt and shorts, and the T-shirt has a deep V-neck that dips down, highlighting his collarbones.

  It used to drive him wild when I kissed the crook of his neck, where those bones joined. His breathing would go from zero to panting, and I’d see the swell of his erection through his jeans. Does that still drive him crazy? Can he still be satisfied by an hour-long lip-lock? Or is kissing too juvenile for him now?

  Shane’s doing his own eyeballing.

  I know I look a disaster, in my ratty, cutoff shorts and baggy, tie-dye T-shirt that’s knotted at the waist—like I’ve stepped out of an ’80s music video. “I wasn’t expecting company.” I toy with the pile of hair atop my head.

  “You look great.” And the way he’s sizing up my bare legs, I believe he means it.

  I’m nervous, I realize. I haven’t felt nervous about a guy since … well, since Shane, in high school.

  “So, where’s Cody?” I ask, clearing my throat to rid the tremble from my voice.

  “Glued to his PS4 for the next two hours. He’ll text me if he needs me. Until he does …” He takes several steps forward to close the distance between us until he’s only a few feet away. “I’m all yours.” He stares at me, expectantly.

  Fire spreads through my veins. I knew having Shane in my bedroom was a terrible idea. Holy hell, this is happening right now? “What happened to dinner first?” I find myself mumbling dumbly.