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“Welcome back!” The high-school-aged girl behind the counter greets me as I walk into the gelato shop just a few doors down from my new office. The complex my new office is in has a row of shops, then a courtyard shaped like an upside-down U, and then another row of shops, all attached to one building—and this little gelato shop is right at the end of one of the rows on the corner.
And I’ll tell you what—I was not thinking about the daily temptation I would face having gelato available to me like this when I was looking at this building for my practice. Now, based on the employee’s greeting, apparently, I’ve been in here far too many times in the past two weeks, and they’re beginning to recognize the unhealthy pattern as well.
“Hi there.” I step up to the glass display case and look to see if there are any other flavors I want to try. Peering over the black frames of my glasses, I settle for the lemon flavor today, in the mood for something bright and fruity instead of decadent and chocolate. “I’ll have one scoop of the lemon, please.”
“Sure thing.” As I wait for the girl to finish scooping my treat, a voice behind me catches my attention.
“So, I can’t tell Daddy?”
A female voice responds. “Nope. This has to be our little secret.”
The little boy giggles. “Okay, Grandma. I like secrets.” Twisting around, I see a small boy, no older than five or six, holding the hand of the older woman beside him, the one I’m assuming is his grandma. “And I love ice cream.” Suddenly, he sees me looking over at him and then takes a step toward me in line. “Do you love ice cream?”
“I do,” I answer with a smile on my lips, admiring the excitement in his voice and the joy in his bright-green eyes that stand out against his jet-black hair. “But this is gelato, so it’s a little different from regular ice cream, but I actually think it’s better.”
“What kind did you get? I’m getting the green one.”
“I’m not sure you’re going to like that one,” the grandmother replies before I can answer. “It’s pistachio.”
“What’s a pistachio?”
“It’s a nut.”
“Like peanuts?”
“Kind of, but not really.”
He turns to me again, his nose scrunched up. “I don’t want that then. What flavor are you getting?” he asks me again as the employee hands me my scoop of lemon gelato.
“Lemon.”
His eyes light up. “Oh, lemon! I want that too!”
“Are you sure? It’s kind of sour,” I clarify.
“Like sour gummy worms?”
I chuckle and reply, “Yes.”
“Then, yes, I want that.”
I pay for my scoop and step out of the way, admiring the boy and his grandma as they order. Little kids are always a pleasure to watch. They have so much optimism in their eyes, their view of the world is less jaded than those of adults, and most of them have yet to experience disappointment and hurt that affects them through the rest of their lives. They simply find joy in the little things, exist without thinking about consequences, and know how to make everything fun.
I can’t wait to have kids of my own someday and give them a childhood like I had—well, until it felt like my world stopped spinning.
“Well, I hope you enjoy your gelato,” I say to the boy and his grandma as I pass them on the way out the door.
“You too!” He waves at me, and with a smile on my face, I exit the shop and head back down the sidewalk to my office.
Walking up to the mahogany framed door with frosted glass, I feel a sense of accomplishment come over me. The green curtains I hung to cover the glass on the inside only serve to provide the much-needed privacy that my office requires, and the small flower beds on the sides of the door give an even more welcoming feel with the bright-yellow and pink blooms catching your eye the moment you turn the corner. The tan stucco makes the door pop, and once my sign is in place above the door on the eaves of the building, the entire look will come together, offering a comfortable and welcoming place where people can feel free to be honest, and work on their relationships and intimacy.
“Oh, this is just perfect.”
A deep, masculine voice with a hint of amusement catches me off guard from behind, causing me to twist to find the owner. And when I do, I almost drop my container of gelato on the floor, which is just as well because with how hot this man is, he could melt it on the spot anyway.
“Um, hello. Can I help you?”
He crosses his arms over his broad chest as a smirk plays on his lips. Sandy-blond hair sticks up on his head, and dark-green eyes stare back at me as I struggle to find words in his proximity. “Nope. Just you being here will help me.”
My brow furrows. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand…”
“I take it this is your office?” he asks, pointing to the door I’m standing in front of. My keys are in my hand since I was juggling my purse and gelato to try to open the door.
“Yes. It is. And you are?”
“Ethan Fuller, your new neighbor.” He juts his thumb over his shoulder, and the outline of his muscular arms becomes apparent under the fabric of his suit jacket. The man can definitely wear a suit, no doubt about that. But I’d have to say it’s that smirk of his that's the real killer.
“Oh!” I bend down to set my purse on the ground, rising just in time to see him checking out my ass. Hesitantly, I take a step toward him and extend my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Amelia St. Clair.”
“Dr. St. Clair,” he replies as if he’s correcting me, still grinning from ear to ear.
I turn back around to face my door, realizing he must have read the name of my practice from there. “Oh, yes. I’m a licensed therapist specializing in marriage and relationship counseling.”
“I know. As I said, this couldn’t be more perfect.” He releases my hand and runs a hand along his jaw, scratching through the scruff there, creating a sound that might as well be like a guitar pick strumming my clit, because I instantly feel a bolt of arousal between my legs.
Where the hell did this man come from? I mean, it’s been a long time since I’ve physically had a reaction like this to a man at first sight. He’s tall, handsome, and confident, which is apparent in his demeanor and his words, and right now, he’s staring at me like he just won some sort of prize.
I don’t know if I should be offended or count my lucky stars.
“Care to elaborate?” I finally ask. I mean, I guess we would have met eventually when I returned from Hawaii next week, but it’s nice to at least know the person that purchased the other empty space in this complex. I remember the owner telling me she was grateful to fill both units within a short time of each other.
“Well, Dr. St. Clair,” he starts mockingly, which has me retreating slightly. “While you seem to be someone who believes in the sanctity of marriage and repairing things that are most likely broken to begin with, I prefer ripping apart the pieces, dividing up things equally, and encouraging people to move on with their lives. And now that I know the very people who are looking for those services will literally be right across the complex from me, you’ve just made my job ten times easier.”
“I’m sorry,” I stutter as my heart races. “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”
He leans closer to me as a whiff of his cologne penetrates my senses. And instead of leaning back like I should, I close the gap between us even further, so close that I can see every fleck of gold in his eyes as I narrow my eyes back at him. And then my vagina really becomes feral as his proximity makes me wonder what the weight of his body would feel like on top of me, his solid frame pushing me down into a bed…
Jesus, Amelia. I know it’s been six months since you’ve been laid, but this guy is acting like an ass, and you need to focus on figuring out why he’s so damn pleased to be your new neighbor.
But he remains silent, so I push him further. “I believe I asked you a question, Ethan Fuller.” He bites his bottom lip, holding back his pleasure at my flustered state, but still doesn’t speak. “Who the heck do you think you are?”
And finally, his lips part, and he says the words that steal all of the oxygen from my lungs, deflating years of dreams becoming a reality in an instant. “I’m a divorce lawyer, and you just made me rich.”
