by Mia Madison
My life in a nutshell—my parents are at work, and I’m bored, though I’m supposed to cut the grass in the front and back today. Can I be bothered? It’s too hot. Too hot for anything other than shorts and a t-shirt, and even they are sticking to me. But then it’s not worth the comments I’ll get about not pulling my weight if I don’t, so I drag the lawn mower out.
There’s a car out front—a red VW old Beetle thing, filthy with dust. Where did that spring from? None of the neighbors has a red wreck of a car. Before I know it, my fingers are brushing over the hot metal.
I could have just written “CLEAN ME” like most people would who are tempted to draw in the dust, but with a few strokes of my finger, there’s a cat on the surface. I look at it, pleased with my finished masterpiece and get on with mowing the front lawn.
By the time I’ve finished at the front of the house and cut the grass in the back yard too, the car has gone. I wonder if the owners appreciate my work of art.
I grab a glass of ice cold soda and my sketch pad. A blast of Bon Jovi will put me in the mood for making some initial sketches of things I can paint later. Though I’m running out of new things to inspire me at home, I’m trying to develop a style, and I haven’t found it yet. I’m still experimenting with techniques I recognize from well-known artists, trying to make something new from the same old things here.
But then the doorbell rings. What the hell now? Probably Mom has been ordering clothes again, as if her closet isn’t stuffed enough already. My mother doesn’t shop like a normal person, trying a few things on in a store or ordering a couple of pieces online. She sends for an entire freaking wardrobe several times a year. “This,” she says, “is what money can buy you.”
“I’m happy in my shorts and T-shirt,” I want to tell her, but she would only roll her eyes or give me another lecture.
I open the door expecting to sign for something, automatically holding out my hand to grab the paperwork, but I stop mid-track, because it’s not a delivery as I expected. It’s him. The man in my dreams. Come to take me away from all this? No, of course not, but what does he want? He’s scowling again. Does the man ever smile?
As soon as he notices me, though, he looks as surprised as I feel.
“You!” he says.
“Yes, me! Thank you for getting me out of that house,” I say.
“Don’t mention it. On the other hand, I’ve been awake for twenty two hours of the last twenty four. Turning down the volume will be thanks enough. If Bon Jovi doesn’t stop assaulting my ear drums, even exhaustion is not going to have the usual effect.”
“But what are you even doing here?” Oh! That was rude.
“I’ll be living next door for a few weeks while the builders are working on my apartment. My uncle and aunt said I could stay here while they’re away. Just my luck they live next door to a party girl with no volume control.”
“Sorry, I’ll turn the music off,” I say. “Thanks again.”
Hell, why can’t I come out with something witty? A guy turns up next door—a gorgeous six-foot-plus fireman, cranky, but with sexy, crinkly eyes, and I don’t know what to say. Typical!
But I get to check him out while he’s here. He’s even better than in my dreams: powerful arms in his white t-shirt, broad shoulders, flat stomach and long, long legs in blue jeans. He must be in his late twenties or early thirties. Wow! I imagine how it would be to go out with him. He’s not like the stupid boys at school. I open my mouth, but it’s too late to say anything else; he’s gone. I’m just the girl who puked on his pants.
CHAPTER 4
Luke
Of all the people to end up living next door to my aunt, it’s her—the girl I keep thinking about. I’ve no idea why I can’t get her out of my head. I’ve rescued plenty of women before and a couple of women since that night, but none of them has had any effect on me at all.
She just seemed too delicate to be in such a drunken state, putting her life in danger. It didn’t sit well with her innocent-looking eyes and blond hair. Not at all. It was as if she needed someone to watch out for her in the future, but I am not the one to do it. I can’t be watching out for women. They are nothing but trouble.
Even so, when I can’t sleep I pull open the curtains, and she’s there, still in the back yard, and irony of ironies, she’s fast asleep, a note pad or sketch book or something fallen onto the ground beside her. She looks beautiful in her little denim shorts with fraying edges, her checked shirt falling open showing her smooth stomach. Stop it, Luke. Don’t even think about it. So why am I out there in the back yard an hour later when I still can’t sleep, calling out to her?
“Hey!”
She opens her eyes and shakes her head in the delightful confused way she has that reminds me of how she was after the fire. She looks at me with her big eyes as if I woke her from a dream.
“Oh, it’s you again.”
“Just thought you might be burning. From the sun I mean. There are all kinds of ways to burn. None of them are pleasant.”
“Do you always go about warning women about things that are bad for them?”
“Not all the time. No.” Shit! She must think I’m like her dad or something. “What are you drawing?”
“Couple of things. Just trees and stuff.”
“It was you!”
She looks at me puzzled. “I thought we already said that. I said thanks. I also want to say sorry for throwing up on you.”
“No, not that. It was you who drew on my car.”
“Oh, that,” she says and blushes. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Nice cat. I took a picture before I put it through the car wash. I had Phoebe at a festival for the weekend.”
I could swear her face falls, but I’m not sure. Why would she care about me going to a festival? Then the penny drops. She thinks Phoebe is some woman.
“That’s what I call my car. Don’t you call yours anything?”
She smiles at me, and I’m sure that’s what she thought. That Phoebe was a woman. “I don’t have a car.”
“Isn’t it a bit limiting stuck out here?”
“It is, I’d like to go farther, find other things to draw, stop making sketches on dusty vehicles, but apparently I don’t deserve a car. I’ll get a car once I get a place at college.” She pulls a face.
“Don’t you want that? College, I mean. Anyway, I thought you were there already and just home for the summer.”
“No, not me. I’d like to go, but only to study art. But that’s not good enough for my parents.”
CHAPTER 5
Olivia
How come I’m telling this guy so much in the first five minutes of conversation?
“I don’t know your name,” I blurt out, not sure why I didn’t ask earlier. Maybe I felt as if I already knew him too well to ask—he’s shared my bed every night for weeks even if he doesn’t know it.
“Luke,” he says. “And you are?”
“Olivia.”
“Well, Olivia if you would like to meet Phoebe now that she has had a shower, you are welcome. I’ve got to go and see someone out at Oak Ridge tomorrow. Maybe you could find something new to sketch there while I visit.”
Does he mean a date, or is he just being kind? I can’t take my eyes off him. But I’m sure he doesn’t feel the same way. Anyway, I’m not going to turn him down even if he thinks I’m just the girl next door he once rescued.
“Thanks. I’d love that.”
I can’t wait to be in his company again and getting to draw somewhere other than my back yard is pure magic.
Being stuck here all summer is the pits. I thought I’d have some kind of car by the time I was eighteen, but my parents think I’ll get into less trouble if I can’t go anywhere. I planned to have fun with Holly this summer, but she has Ben… and to hell with being a third wheel to them. They are all over each other. Holly doesn’t hold back to spare my blushes.
Luke says he’ll call for me in the morning, and he disappears back int
o his aunt’s house. I can’t help admiring his ass, clad in blue jeans, as he walks away. Aren’t men supposed to go to seed as they get older? But then I don’t really know what age he is. He’s just not fresh out of high school like me and my friends, that’s for sure.
His body must be the result of all the physical exercise he has to do with fire equipment. I blush thinking of the kind of exercise I’ve been imagining him taking in my bed. It’s nothing to do with rolling out a fire hose and climbing a ladder. Though he can climb a ladder to my room any day he likes.
It’s weird because I’ve been keeping Jed at bay for the longest time. Luke just makes me want him without even knowing him. I need to call Holly.
*
“Hey, Holls. I’m going out tomorrow. What should I wear?”
Holly squeals when she hears who I’m going out with. “The guy who rescued you? Wow! I saw him, but I wasn’t taking much notice—I was just happy you were alive. Is he hot?”
“As the fires he puts out.”
She laughs. “Isn’t he a lot older than us, though?”
“A bit. Not sure. And I’m not sure if it’s a date or if he’s just being nice.”
“Sounds like a date to me. Who are you going to see in Oak Ridge?”
“No idea.”
“Are you sure he’s not married?”
“I haven’t noticed a ring. It doesn’t look like he moved next door with a family.”
“He moved next door?”
“Only for a while. His own place is getting fixed up.”
“Wish Ben lived next door to me.”
“You’re never out of each other’s houses, anyway.”
“Sorry, I’ve been so tied up this summer, Olivia. Just when you split up with Jed and all.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Though we both know it does.
“Maybe we can go out to a movie or something next week to catch up on all your news. You can tell me about your fireman date.”
We chat a bit and end the call. I know she doesn’t mean to drop me. She’s just so tied up with her new man. But it hurts all the same.
Holly’s advice on clothes is just to wear what I normally wear. But she’s thinking of dates with guys our age. I look down at my shirt and shorts. That outfit will not do at all. I expect Luke usually goes out sophisticated women, and I don’t have a single thing to fit that description. But there’s a closet full of stuff upstairs in my mother’s room. She’ll have something my size, and she’ll never know I’ve borrowed it.
CHAPTER 6
Luke
I ring the doorbell at ten, hoping Olivia is ready, even if I’d really like to rouse her from her bed. I imagine her lying there all tousled and dreamy eyed, her nightgown riding up her lovely legs, and the picture that paints in my mind makes my cock jump to attention. I have to stop my thoughts going any further in that direction.
But when she answers the door, I can’t help a gasp escaping my lips. What the fuck has she done to herself? The shock must have registered on my face.
“What’s wrong?” she says, a frown replacing her initial smile at seeing me.
Oh no, I’ve upset her. “Nothing’s wrong. Let’s go.” I try to reassure her, but she’s not having it.
“No. Tell me,” she says.
“You look lovely but…” Oh fuck, I just have to say it. “You don’t look like you.”
The sleeveless dress she’s wearing shows off her slender arms, but it’s dark and tailored like a suit. I can’t explain how wrong it looks on her, but it seems hard somehow, and I don’t see her as hard at all.
“But you’ve only seen me a couple of times. How do you know how I normally look?”
“I mean you look like you don’t feel easy in your clothes, not like I saw you yesterday. I liked that. It seemed like you weren’t conscious of what you were wearing, but now you are.”
“It’s one of my mother’s dresses. I just borrowed it. She won’t care,” she says defiantly, but I can tell by her face she wishes she hadn’t worn it now that I’ve put my foot in my mouth.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything.” Hell. I’m useless at this. Why did I say anything? I’ve ruined the day before we even leave the house.
“Come in,” she says, her voice breaking. “I’ll get changed if you don’t like this one.”
I want to make it up to her, but I don’t know how. I go in, and before she can run off, I reach out and pull her to me, pushing the front door closed with my foot.
She gives a little sob against me. We’re not going anywhere with her upset like this.
“Hey,” I say. “I really am sorry. You’re lovely whatever you wear. You’re just lovelier in your shorts and shirt.” And I can’t help kissing the top of her head. Her hair is coming out of the severe bun, though. Time to lose that. I pull at the pins. “I like your hair down, flowing over your shoulders like this.”
I kiss her properly then. She’s gorgeous, all minty fresh and some subtle girly fruity flowery who-knows-what-it-is scent tickles my nose. She’s more of a woman than a girl in the way she responds to me with her soft lips, her mouth opening to me, inviting me in. I think we’re both lost in that kiss and surprised by its intensity. I look at her and smile. She seems a lot happier now.
“I spent ages putting that up.” She laughs, pushing her hair behind her ears.
“But that librarian look—I feel like I should be taking you along to the town hall meeting on the misappropriation of funds.”
“Is there a committee called that?”
“I have no fucking idea.”
She laughs. I can’t take my eyes off hers. Hell, this is intense.
“Where is everyone?”
“Out at work.”
“Take the dress off.”
“I’m just going to do that.”
“Here.”
“Here?” Her eyes are wide.
“Yes, here.”
She looks at me, and I think she’s going to refuse, and then she unbuttons the front of the black monstrosity and drops it to the ground. She might have been wearing a dress fit for a library meeting, but her underthings are something else—lacy little boy shorts and a matching bra in some kind of peachy color. Who the fuck knows what they call the color? Whatever it is, I like it, the color, the whole set.
“Much better.”
“I can’t go out like this.”
“No. But I liked what you had on yesterday. It suited you.”
“I can’t wear those clothes again. They’re in the laundry. But I’ll find something.”
As she walks away, I catch sight of the nicest ass I ever saw. Not swaying like you see all the time on women in four-inch heels, just a natural little wiggle in her boy shorts. I love it.
When she comes back, I’m sure my eyes light up. She’s wearing a white t-shirt and red shorts—not quite as short as yesterday’s shorts, more demure, but still hot, with her ass and legs. With her wearing those and this weather, I’ll smolder and burn in the car if I’m not careful.
“Who are we going to visit?” she says.
I knew I’d have to answer that question sooner rather than later, and suddenly I wish I’d never suggested this particular trip as a way to get closer to her. “We’d better get going. I’ll tell you on the way.”
CHAPTER 7
Olivia
He doesn’t tell me who we’re going to visit. Not right away, and I don’t want to ask again in case he thinks I’m making a big thing of it or being too nosy. I don’t know if I’m doing the visiting anyway. I think he might be planning on leaving me somewhere to sketch, and then he’ll pick me up later. I only just remembered to grab my sketch book on the way out—the whole reason for this trip.
Mom and Dad know nothing about my plans today. They don’t approve of me wanting to be an artist, but they aren’t going to flip out about me sketching. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure they’d throw a fit about me going out with Luke, not to mention me taking off my dress for him and
that kiss!
I smile to myself at that, but hell, I need to know how much of a problem Luke’s age is going to be with them if I’m going to keep seeing him. I imagine even five years would be something they wouldn’t be happy about.
“How far is Oak Ridge?” I ask for something polite to say.
“It’s about seventy miles. Have you never been there?”
“Not since I was a kid.”
“Not so long ago then.”
“Long enough.”
“How old are you anyway?”
“Eighteen. Nineteen next month.”
“You’re just out of high school? I thought that was a friends-getting-back-together-in-the-summer party. I was thirty-five last week.”
He’s older than I thought. “You don’t look thirty-five.”
“Thanks, but maybe I should take you right back home. This is a bad idea. I didn’t think it through. Even if you were about to graduate, you’d still be much younger than me.”
“Why do you care if it doesn’t matter to me?”
“You might not care, but I can’t see your parents being thrilled about it. Or my aunt and uncle if it causes a problem with their neighbors.”
“My parents don’t like anything I do, so one more thing is not going to make any difference.”
“I think you might find it does. And I don’t want to be the cause of trouble between you.”
He stops the car on the side of the road in a big cloud of dust.
“Did you tell them you were going to Oak Ridge with me today?”
“No. Why would I?”
“They’re not going to like you going behind their back.”
“Did you tell your mom and dad?” I ask.
“No, it’s immaterial.”
“Why? Because you’re thirty-five and I’m eighteen? Why should they have any more say over my life than yours do over you?”