Home Sweet Mess
Allison Ashley
Contents
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Acknowledgments
Copyright 2021 Allison Ashley
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.
Cover Design: Elizabeth Turner Stokes
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
First Edition June 2021
For Jeni and Susan
Author’s Note
This story touches on cancer, infertility, and child neglect. If these are sensitive topics, please read with care.
Chapter One
Jeni Bishop was disturbingly familiar with the sounds her neighbor made during sex. To be clear, it wasn’t intentional on her part to be within earshot of the woman’s early morning amorous exploits.
Not at first anyway. But by this point, it was a matter of principle.
Jeni sat on her front porch, hands wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee, the wooden swing swaying lightly in the subtle breeze. Growing up on a farm, her day had begun before dawn for as long as she could remember, and the habit of rising early refused to be purged from her system.
That had been rough during college, but now that nights of staying out until two or three in the morning were few and far between, these quiet hours were her favorite part of the day. Or they had been, before she moved to Kansas City for a job opportunity exactly one month ago. If she’d known who she was moving in next to, she might have reconsidered this particular location. Or asked her landlord to waive the security deposit, at the very least.
Now, four weeks in, Jeni had come to expect her morning solitude to be interrupted at least twice a week. Last week it had been four.
Same guy, but still. Four.
Jeni didn’t mind that the lady was getting laid or even how often. It was the fact that she refused to keep it private, in a neighborhood where the houses were stacked nearly on top of each other. Also, because she seemed to require an open window to reach her big finale.
Didn’t most people get busy at night? Well, maybe she did that too, but it was evident she appreciated a certain kind of wake-up call.
“Yes.”
Jeni nodded along with the words of affirmation the woman was so generously offering.
“Ohhh…don’t stop.”
Yes, don’t stop. Just get it over with, already. Jeni took a sip of coffee.
A low, rhythmic thumping joined the feminine moans. A headboard, maybe?
Jeni sighed and wondered why the idea of sleeping with the window closed was such a distasteful notion to her beautiful, energetic, and probably limber next-door neighbor. If the double-paned glass was firmly latched, the entire neighborhood wouldn’t get an earful. As the closest neighbor, Jeni might still hear something, but it would hopefully be muffled to the point she might have assumed it to be a cat or a dying squirrel.
A woodpecker, maybe.
“Oh…”
Jeni circled a hand in the air in front of her, as if to say keep going. Almost there.
“Oh!”
Jeni very nearly set her cup down to clap but decided against it. All was silent now, just as she liked it.
Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and took in the fresh air. The late August morning was warm, but it wasn’t uncomfortably hot yet. Just as in her hometown in Nebraska, she wouldn’t be able to enjoy these mornings come winter, which was one reason she stubbornly refused to give up the ritual now, no matter how irritating her neighbor had become.
She spent several minutes in the quiet, thinking about nothing in particular. She’d had a good stretch of meditation before her neighbor burst onto the stage, and now Jeni just wanted to take advantage of the moments she had left before getting ready for work. As a social worker for Child Protective Services, there was no telling what she’d walk into today. While she harbored a deep passion for her job and couldn’t see herself doing anything else, it was far from easy and she’d learned the importance of balance early on. This house—the first place she’d ever called her own—was her safe place to relax and unwind.
She inhaled deeply, and her shoulders softened as she sipped her coffee.
A few minutes later, a screen door creaked open and slapped shut against the frame. Startled, Jeni snapped her head around.
A man stood on the porch of her neighbor’s house, head bent forward as he worked one of the buttons on his shirt.
Wow. He got out of there quick.
She hadn’t seen this guy before. The four-timer from last week had been large, dark, and sexy. Very Jason Momoa-ish. Irritating as the interruptions were, Jeni had given props to her neighbor, and this one wasn’t bad either. Wavy blond hair, tall but not excessively so, lean build. The stylish, leather sneakers he wore with his button-up shirt and jeans created a boyish quality. The men before him had worn pressed slacks and gleaming oxfords as they entered and exited the craftsman-style house, looking like high-level executives who had come straight from the downtown boardroom for a romp in the suburbs.
This guy wasn’t her neighbor’s typical style, and Jeni wondered what it was about him that made her bring him home.
The man looked up and to the left, his gaze landing on Jeni. She tensed momentarily, mildly embarrassed to be caught observing him. None of the previous men had noticed her. For a moment she was tempted to jerk her gaze away and act like she knew nothing. That she had no idea what and who he’d been doing just minutes before.
The man’s eyes darted to the open bedroom window, a mere eight feet from the edge of Jeni’s porch, and a slow, knowing smirk spread across his face.
That arrogant expression immediately irked her. Instead of diverting her gaze, Jeni narrowed her eyes at him, as if to say, I have every right to be sitting here, and yes, I heard everything.
The guy winked at her and called out, “Join us, next time.”
That embarrassed her, and her mouth dropped open. She had limited experience with men (the experience was less than stellar) and couldn’t remember ever receiving a proposition like that.
He laughed and walked down the sidewalk with long, confident strides to a silver, older model pick-up truck parked along the curb. A white sticker in the shape of the Hawaiian Islands stood in stark contrast to the tinted back window, the shapes shrinking and blending together as he pulled away from the curb and drove off.
Jeni sat there, staring at the place on the street his vehicle had just vacated.
The screen door squeaked a second time. Her neighbor stood in the doorway, a colorful silk robe draped across her voluptuous body and long blond hair piled in a messy bun atop her head. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips carried a small smile as she lifted a glass to take a sip of water. Her hip held the door open, and she clutched a cell phone in the opposite hand.
Her eyes le
isurely moved around her front yard before she turned to go back inside. When she did, she faced Jeni for a moment and paused to offer a wave. Jeni forced herself to smile and wave back.
This was the extent of their interactions, infrequent as they were. A smile or wave. Jeni didn’t even know the woman’s name.
Her neighbor opened her mouth like she might say something, but the phone rang. She held it in front of her face, looking at the screen. A voice squawked through the speaker, but Jeni couldn’t make out the words.
“No, not right there,” her neighbor said, squinting at the screen. “It’s not centered. Move it a little to the left.” She walked into her house and the screen door closed behind her. But not before one last sentence. “Yes! Right there.”
Jeni couldn’t contain the laugh that escaped as she stood up to go get ready for work.
That’s what she said.
* * *
Jeni gave herself one final check in the mirror before heading out the door. For a minute she allowed her mind to compare the reflection staring back at her with the woman next door.
Her neighbor was fair in hair and complexion, while Jeni was brunette with gold irises hidden behind thick-framed, tortoise-shell glasses. Jeni certainly didn’t have the voluptuous body her neighbor flaunted; her build instead spoke to life growing up on the farm and a love of athletics—softball in particular. Her nose and cheeks were covered in freckles from so much time in the sun.
The other woman had a steady stream of boyfriends crossing her threshold, while Jeni was the only one coming through her door at the end of the day. She didn’t mind, honestly. She thrived on the knowledge she was doing things completely on her own. She was curious though. What might that be like?
If it’s anything like what you had before? Not worth it.
Jeni shook her head, attempting to snap out of the vortex of comparison because it never did her any good. She straightened and checked herself one last time. She might have been a tomboy growing up, but today in her white blouse, pencil skirt, and nude heels, she looked every inch the professional woman she’d become.
Traffic was particularly heavy that day, and her twenty-minute commute to the welfare offices on State Avenue took twice that long. She wouldn’t complain though. After a serious accident in high school, she’d endured long months without the ability to drive, and the freedom she had behind the wheel of a car was something she’d never take for granted again.
Employees typically parked in the large lot across the street, and she circled the first few rows, hoping she’d catch a visitor leaving. The only location she’d be guaranteed a spot was in the back, and her choice of shoes didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.
Just when she’d decided to give up and accept the walk—and the blisters—a car pulled out of a space on the first row.
Yes. Jeni slammed on the brakes and jerked her car in reverse, turning the wheel to start down the line of cars. A silver truck approached from the opposite direction, and Jeni flipped on her blinker. Either not noticing or not caring that she had staked her claim, the driver whipped the oversized vehicle into the parking spot she was waiting for with an ease that might have impressed her if she hadn’t been so pissed.
Swallowing her frustration, she sighed and started moving forward again, her eye passing over the image of Hawaii on the window of the truck as she passed by.
Wait.
Her gaze darted to the rearview mirror, and sure enough, a blond man with a phone pressed to his ear exited the truck. He walked quickly across the street, toward the businesses that lined the sidewalk near her office building.
It had been just a glimpse, but it had to have been the guy from this morning. Jeni pursed her lips in irritation and drove to the back of the lot.
The second she arrived at her cubicle, the heels came off. The morning went quickly, and she spent hours at her desk reviewing case files without so much as standing to stretch her legs. Her boss, Sandra, a boisterous woman with gray hair and red glasses who reminded Jeni of Oprah Winfrey, passed by a few times on her way to the conference room and was the only soul Jeni spoke to the entire morning. There must have been some sort of meeting because every so often a burst of voices would reach Jeni’s ears when the conference room door opened.
“What’s going on in there?” she asked Sandra during a pass by her desk.
“We’re meeting with a nonprofit organization, Fostering Sweet Dreams. Have you heard of it?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“They take donations of cribs and beds for foster families to use when they take children in. It’s been around for a few years but has grown a lot over the past year. We meet with them every once in a while to discuss logistics, such as drop-off locations, transporting the items, and choosing which families receive the donations.”
“What a great idea,” Jeni said. One of the top reasons they had trouble placing children in homes quickly was a lack of the tangible items required in an available home—like a bed or a car seat.
“FSD has been a huge blessing for us,” Sandra said with a warm smile. “Are we being too loud? The director is a personal friend, and he and I can get a little rowdy when we’re together.”
“No, not at all. It’s nice to hear laughter,” Jeni said and meant it. Too often the office was filled with the heartbreaking sound of a crying child.
Jeni resumed her focus to the pile of case files on her desk, full of photos, intake forms, and notes made by her predecessor and worked tirelessly to familiarize herself with the children she was now responsible for.
She had a home visit that afternoon with a family fostering a six-year-old boy whose mother was in prison on drug charges. Based on the file, the foster parents were some of the best the agency had at their disposal, and the boy had been with them for two months so far. Hopefully it would be a relatively painless check-in.
Her stomach grumbled, and she glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was past noon. She was expected at the foster family’s home at one, and she hadn’t brought lunch. She grabbed her purse and hurried outside, hoping she could quickly get in and out of the only lunch spot within walking distance.
Jeni ducked into the deli, relieved to see that the line wasn’t terrible. The store was small, and the people lined up for the cashier blocked her access to the refrigerated case that held pre-wrapped sandwiches and boxed salads. She took her place at the end to wait, pulling out her phone to enter the client’s home address. She planned her route as she took a step forward every few minutes, and when she was at the edge of the food display, she slipped her phone back into her purse.
Glancing past the guy in front of her, she noticed there was one vegetarian sandwich remaining. She internally did a fist pump. This place made the best in-house hummus and didn’t skimp on applying it to their veggie sub. It was a little far to reach yet, so she folded her hands in front of her and looked up.
The guy in front of her turned to the side and bent over slightly to peruse the available lunch options.
Jeni blinked and stood a little straighter, her brain whirring to process the signal her retinas were sending—this was, in fact, the guy who’d high-tailed it out of her neighbor’s house at six-thirty this morning. And subsequently stole her parking spot.
Dressed to impress, he now wore a crisp, white dress shirt, navy slacks, and dark tan leather oxfords. His thick, blond hair was maybe a smidge too long but had a perfect wave many women would kill for. A clean-shaven, sculpted jaw set off high cheekbones and long, dark lashes—which were particularly noticeable from the profile view she had at the moment.
He was…different, up close. If she was being honest with herself, he was one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen. She revised her earlier thought that he wasn’t up to par with the other men her neighbor invited over. He might be tied for first place with the Jason Momoa look-alike.
He smelled nice too. Clean and fresh and with a hint of some masculine cologne.
; Too bad he seemed like an arrogant prick.
“Excuse me.” He reached for a salad just beyond her elbow. Okay, so he had some manners. It was in that moment that she saw the flash of blue, giving her the full effect of his masculine features, and her breath caught in her throat.
She’d always had a thing for blue eyes. Maybe she’d judged this guy too quickly. She was forming an opinion on shockingly little information, after all. Why she was even forming an opinion about him at all was beyond her, but…here she was.
But then, he put the salad back and picked up the last veggie sub, turning to face the cashier to signal he’d made his final choice.
Oh, hell no. He wasn’t taking her parking place and her favorite sandwich. Her internal filter was apparently on break, and Jeni couldn’t stop the word that blurted from her mouth.
“Seriously?”
The guy didn’t turn at the sound of her voice, likely not realizing she was talking to him.
A small voice in the back of her head reminded her of her propensity to become more than a little irrational when she was hungry, but she ignored it.
Jeni tapped his shoulder. “Excuse me.”
He looked back, and when his eyes landed on her face, his expression was pleasant but blank. “Yeah?”
He didn’t recognize her. Probably a good thing.
“Are you a vegetarian?” she asked.
His brow furrowed. “Um. No?”
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