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. . .
HUDSON
With a beer in my hand and a fucking view of Olive in my front yard, I’m the envy of every single motherfucker in the neighborhood.
Luther, across the street, has come out of his house twice now in the last ten minutes, subtly checking out her shorts that cup her sweet ass and the pink sports bra that displays her full rack of tits.
The asshole to my right, Pete—a guy who never talks to me but today he does—came over and asked me about my fence, where I bought it, and how much it cost.
My answers were simple.
The fence was here when I moved in, which means I don’t know where the hell it came from nor what it cost.
However, Pete still lingers for a few more minutes, eyes floating to Olive every few seconds, when he finally has the nerve to ask me who the hell the sexy woman was doing my lawn work.
My answer was vaguely that she begged me to come over and take care of me. She planned to get me dinner also. Maybe would even tuck me in tonight.
The last comment was bullshit but I swear Pete was sprouting a hard dick and straining my patience with his so-called neighborly small talk.
“Done!”
I hadn’t even noticed that the lawn mower turned off because my neighbor won’t shut the hell up, but she ambles over. Sweat dripping down her chest and disappearing right under that tight bra as she uses her forearm to wipe at her forehead.
“What else?” She asks the question as if she’s annoyed with me, but I didn’t ask for this arrangement.
She did the shit to herself.
“Hey.” Pete decides then to take his shot and shoves his chubby hand at her. “I’m Pete.”
“Olive.” She returns the gesture before rounding those pretty blues back to me, but when she opens her mouth, Pete cuts back in.
“Hudson said you love yard work,” he says with a chuckle. “I have plenty to do if you’re interested.”
“How much?”
My brows knit because she can’t be serious. I didn’t say she was going to be lent out, because she’s definitely not going to have the time.
Pete shrugs nonchalantly. “How much do you charge?”
“A vacation,” I answer, pulling my beer glass up to my lips. “And she pays.”
Liv gives me a cute little glare, but it does absolutely nothing to make me feel bad about the situation.
It’s the truth.
And if she wants to spend her time fucking around with everyone’s yard around here, well…at least I’ll still get the view if she’s up for it.
“You wouldn’t want to share me, would you?” she asks sweetly, slowly striding for me as if I’m about to throw a few bands at her. “You said you were going to use me up until I couldn’t walk anymore.”
Never ever did I fucking say or imply that shit.
I’m thinking about it now, though.
Pete clears his throat, but Liv doesn’t pry her concentrated focus off of me. Challenging my ass right now in front of another man who I could give two small fucks about what he believes I’m trying to pull over here with this barely legal girl in my driveway.
She’s stubborn as hell and while that’s sexy as fuck, she’s still too young for me and not something I want to deal with. Rapture Ink is my woman. That’s all I need right now.
“Well, if you want the extra money…” Pete trails off, obviously feeling a bit uncomfortable at either what she means or that she might be mine, after all, and he propositioned my woman to work for him.
