Page 18 of Pink and Country

Jack’s eyes sparkled, and HN mouthed a silent “thank you” in my direction.

Without another word, HN reached for the boy’s hand. My ovaries did a happy dance. “Come on, buddy, I’m sure dinner is ready by now.” They walked away, and I stood there, watching father and son waltz to their cabin, hand in hand, confused and amazed all at the same time.

I shot Saunders a quick text, hoping the reception was better out here.

Met HN face to face.

HN = Hot Neighbor

Wet my panties. Much better than from afar.

Kind of a jerk, though.

Met his son. Sweetest boy ever. Has a thing for pink hair.

Won’t be able to send you a visual, he got angry when he thought I snapped a picture of him.

Long story. He’s not friendly. Just mouth-watering hot.

Come visit if you wanna see for yourself.

I roamed around with the phone in my hand over my head until the chime announced the message went through.

* * *

Three days later, I woke up and lay in bed for a little while, feeling fresh and well-rested, which hadn’t happened in a long time. Bernice padded on the mattress, and getting closer, butt-headed my chin, ready to be fed. “Can you just oversleep for once, girl?” She let out a loud meow as I patted her furry head. She had no intention to go back to sleep. Traitor. “Okay, fine. Give me a minute.” I stretched my arms over my head, my body swallowed by the fluffy bedding. My smile faltered as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, disappointed to leave the comfort of my warm and cozy nest.

While brushing my teeth in the adjacent bathroom, looking through the window, I spied on my neighbor’s cabin. I rolled my eyes, thinking about the other day’s banter. At least, HN seemed like a hands-on dad. I had yet to meet the wife. I winced at the thought. She had to be an angel to deal with his huge ego and pissing-contest attitude.

I moved slightly to the left, not wanting to be seen, when I spotted HN talking on the phone in his driveway. My skin tingled at his sight. Why did he have to be so attractive?

HN kicked the tires of his SUV multiple times, fisting his hair with one hand, his annoyance fully displayed. Whoever was on the phone with him was at the receiving end of his wrath. Anger darkened all his features, and I felt even more attracted to him. He was this mysterious, hot as hell male, and the first one to get my hormones in overdrive in the last couple of years.

HN paced on the pavement, his fury visible even from a distance.

Without thinking any further, I rushed downstairs, filled Bernice’s bowl with kibbles—because by now, her meowing had turned into uninterrupted background noise—and went outside, aiming for my car. I needed nothing, so I pretended to rummage through the console looking for something. When did I become so lame? I crossed my fingers, hoping I wasn’t too obvious.

HN flexed his jaw. His eyes became a sea of gray lava. He changed direction mid-stride, all his movements jerky and stiff. His magnetism pulled my gaze in. I heard fragments of his conversation.

“…she won’t get away with it that easily…”

“…no, I won’t do it. Forget it…”

“…and you think I’m not aware this is manipulation…”

“…no fucking way. That’s not up for discussion…”

“…Never mind. I’m over this craziness. For good…”

I held my breath, trying to make myself as invisible as possible, not wanting HN to think I was eavesdropping on his phone call, even though I was kind of doing. A little. Not really. Totally.

My hot neighbor hung up, shook his head, and took two deep breaths, erasing all traces of anger from his model-like face. His eyes dropped to the screen of his phone, and he laughed at something he saw. Or read.

Why was HN on my mind all the time now? He’s married, for God’s sake. And I didn’t even like the guy. Yesterday, HN took it upon himself to help me carry wood to keep my fireplace running. That was nice of him. Until he opened his stupid—but kissable—mouth. HN had a way to infuriate me. He pushed my buttons, then left as if nothing happened. Ass.

Before HN could acknowledge my presence, I rushed back inside, holding a tire pressure gauge. Real smooth, April. I dropped my head, twisted my mouth, and creased my eyebrows, feeling so dumb. Why was I acting like a child? I ignored why HN mattered that much to me. Not wanting to give my erratic behavior too much thought, I made tea, and with my laptop on my knees, I settled into the hanging chair, intending to write and forget all about the sexy-slash-obnoxious married man next door.

“Get a grip,” I said aloud. Bernice, who was stretched on her side in front of the window, basking in the warm sun rays, purred. “I’m glad you agree, girl.”