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He’s taken off his shirt and is wearing a pair of baggy khaki shorts that show off legs that are just as muscular as his torso. His back gleams with sweat in the early summer sun, and he’s picking up a nice tan. He handles the large lawnmower like it’s a toy. Having mowed the lawn once since the last neighbor moved out, I know for a fact that it’s an ill-tempered, ungainly, and very heavy beast of a machine, but he just walks around the garden with it like he’s pushing a stroller.
My ovaries sigh like a teenage girl at a One Direction concert. I bet a guy like him would be a great dad.
Shut up, ovaries.
I let my gaze slide over his broad shoulders then down to his trim waist.
Did I mention the muscles on the top of the muscles?
I guess pulling people out of burning buildings and slinging that hose around calls for some serious fitness levels—
Oh crap. Now I’m thinking of the Chief slinging his hose around.
I thunk my head on the windowsill and look up again just as he turns the lawn mower around and glances up in my direction.
I freeze, then slowly back away from the window, crab-walking until I’m out of his line of sight. Did he catch me spying on him?
I let myself collapse on the floor.
Good grief, it’s come to this: I am officially a creepy neighbor crawling around on the floor of my own bedroom fantasizing about a man… who is my enemy, I remind myself firmly. Or at least my rival.
Who thinks I am an entitled woman whose idea of hard work is reading books, I remind myself. An annoying little voice inside my head reminds me that I possibly came across as a little obnoxious myself during that first meeting.
Well, I reply back to the annoying voice, he’s clearly trying to get under my skin, helping me with my books at the elementary school and mowing the lawn…
Seriously? says the voice. The worst you can come up with is that he’s polite?
I cover my face with my hands and groan.
An hour later, I’m out of the shower, dressed and made up. I usually end up working a half day on Saturdays, but at least I get to go in late. Right now I’m killing time by going through my email until it’s time to leave. I haven’t heard back from any of the jobs I applied to, so I scroll through the weekly digest of library jobs around the country. It makes me sad to think of leaving Welkins Ridge. I grew up here, my best friends are here, and my family, as crazy as they drive me, is here. I love the town. I love feeling like I’m contributing to the community.
But I also love being a librarian, and it’s getting harder and harder to do my job. I have feelers out for library jobs in North Falls, which would at least allow me to stay in the area, but turnover in the county library system is low, and open jobs are rare.
I’ve momentarily forgotten about my muscle-bound neighbor until there’s a firm knock on the front door and I catch a glimpse of his large frame through the sidelight.
I get up, glance at myself in the hallway mirror, pleased to see that I look polished and put-together, and open the door.
From the dampness of his wavy dark hair, he looks like he’s just had a shower. He smells nice too, like very manly soap. He’s put on a t-shirt, which is kind of a bummer, but it stretches nicely over his chest and shows off his arms.
He holds out a flat cardboard box. “Hey, this was delivered to my door by accident.”
I catch a glimpse of the logo on the box and reach for it quickly, but he pulls it back, turns the box around, and studies the packaging. “Jezebel’s Cavern…” he muses. “What kind of company is that?”
From the twinkle in his eye, he already knows. I wouldn’t put it past him to have googled it before he brought the package over.
“It’s a gift.” I hold out my hand for the box, but he doesn’t give it to me.
“Oh, yeah?” His eyebrows rise. “Is it your birthday?”
“It’s for a friend.” My hand is still outstretched, and the skin over my collarbone feels hot.
“Ohhh, for a friend.” He nods like we’re in on a secret together and finally hands me the box. “Of course.”
“It really is,” I insist, though I have no idea why I’m bothering.
“Oh, I believe you.”
He does not believe me.
