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Chapter One
Claire
Itwasastrangefeeling, hating someone with the same intensity you desired them, and Jonah Parker, my older, handsome neighbor, made it very easy to hate him with the sour attitude he regarded everyone with.
No, I wasn’t in love with him. Love was the farthest thing on my mind when I moved to my aunt’s home in the small town of Woodville. I wasn’t the kind of girl that believed in fairytales, happy endings, or any of the love stories that the media consistently pushed out. My several failed relationships killed off any lingering hopes of epic romances that I had, and it didn’t take long for me to realize that fairytales were just that, fairytales. Nobody got to live happily ever after in the real world, and I had long recognized that the only thing the universe granted equally to us all was an unfair reality. The only fair thing about the world was that it was unfair to everyone. And it was incredibly unfair how hot Jonah Parker was.
“Good evening, Mr. Parker,” I said as I walked past him while he cut lumber in front of his house. All he did was nod in my direction without acknowledging my presence. I wished I could react to him with the same disregard, but it was hard not to notice him. He had an aura that was almost impossible to miss. From the way, he dressed, to the way he walked, to his deep baritone and his deep husky spurts of laughter that I only heard whenever he was hanging out with his friends at the local bar where I worked as a waitress.
He was a retired military man, and I found it very believable. He looked every bit like someone that belonged at a war front with that body of his. I know I didn’t, not with my straight black hair and pale skin that refused to gain a tan no matter how long I sat in the sun.
I watched him work with a fascination that I always had ever since the first time I visited my aunt while I was a teenager. I visited her often as we were much closer than my parents and my crush on my neighbor remained from the first time I saw him as a teenager until now as a full-fledged adult.
He didn’t dress formally. He wore a casual shirt with the first three buttons undone that revealed his massive muscular build. He looked like he could crush anyone’s throat with his huge hands, and his grip on the axe he used in cutting the wood told me that it wasn’t an exaggeration. His hair and beard were white, and the beard was crafted on his face with such excellence he could have acted in any role that needed a white beard. Funnily enough, he rocked the same buzz cut that I’ve known him with since I was a teenager. He was a mountain of a man, and his white hair was a startling contrast to his tanned skin. He had a chiseled face that was always set in a frown, and as I watched his biceps flex while he brought down his axe on the wood, I felt a certain warmth pool in my belly that made my body tingle.
“That right there is premium Daddy material,” my best friend, Jessica, said as she walked up to me with her gaze on him as well. “I’d let him split me in half with those huge hands whenever he wants. I can’t believe his wife was stupid enough to divorce him. How can anyone leave this hunk of a man?”
“Jessica stop sexualizing my neighbor,” I laughed, but the same question was on my mind. How could anyone divorce someone this hot? I heard he had a son too, but I didn’t care. It didn’t matter to me.
His eyes met mine when he raised his head to wipe the sweat off his forehead, and for a split second, I was sure I had forgotten how to breathe.
Chapter Two
Jonah
Ilookedawayandcontinued what I was doing. That was Claire, Pauline’s niece; she was a beautiful young lady and looked young enough to be my child. I knew they were whispering about me but I focused on the lumber I was cutting. I wondered what it was that fascinated ladies about me. I frowned slightly; they were the last thing on my mind. I stopped to breathe in some air and then continued. After my divorce, I vowed not to have anything to do with women anymore. My job as a military man helped a whole lot; though I was exposed to numerous women, I still focused on my job. Escaping several death pits and traps was enough to keep me going even when I felt I couldn't survive the divorce.
“You need to get married; it's been almost 10 years.”
Those were words I had heard countless times. But did they think love was an item anyone could easily get anywhere? Love? I was done with it. I took the axe up and gave the lumber one last split and then I picked it up and carried it to my apartment. I needed some warmth. The cold of the season was gradually closing in, and I was not sure I could hold up anymore. I went to the fireplace and started a fire.
The last family reunion I attended made me weary of having another one anytime soon. The discussion was all about me. The need to get married and build a life, the need to find another divorcee or a single mature woman to keep me company. I went to the fridge and brought out a bottle of water, gulping it down while I held on to the edge of the fridge. I was dehydrated from the energy I just used. I gulped some more and went to the fireplace to arrange the lumber to get a better spark.
I thought about Will, my 17-year-old son who had gone to school already that morning. He was in school but I knew he would not be back from there till evening. He was already beginning to have friends and I knew most of them. I even knew a couple who visited a lot.
Will was a friendly person, although he had started to grow distant from me a little bit. Sometimes, I felt like he blamed me for the split between me and his mother. He would never understand though as he was still a kid. But I had full custody of him afterwards. The court case I won made sure of that.
Although my marriage with his mother was nothing to write home about, it did produce my only son whom I loved from the depths of my heart. I tried to keep it from him for fear of losing respect in his eyes. But I made sure we stayed close. He was the only human being I showed love to in the world, and I wasn’t really interested in adding to that list.
I sat down on one of the old chairs in my living room enjoying the warmth that was beginning to fill the room. Who would have thought I would be doing this fine? When Hannah left many years ago, I felt he couldn't survive it. She didn't give a reason, anything. She just woke up one morning asking for a divorce; I suspected it had to do with my constant absence from home as a result of my job. But I never complained about it; I was always worried and tried to be there for my family. But even at that, she always encouraged me and made him feel we were okay until she requested a divorce and left. I bit my lips and looked into the fire. I had gotten over my wife already but the questions were still there. Does love exist? Because despite how seemingly perfect my marriage was, she still left. That means there was nothing special about love. It often fades after sometime and it's not dependable. Since she left, I ensured I wasn't a victim anymore; I had seen ladies worthy of my affection and attention, but I would rather stay alone than bear the heat of a probable repetition of what my wife did.
I was still sleeping when I dozed off on the couch. A knock on my door. How long had I been sleeping? And who was at the door? Blake wouldn't be home till the next day. Who could that be?
“Coming,” I said trying hard to hide the resentment in my voice. I planned to rest and visit the local bar later in the night. I looked at the clock on the wall and almost fell off the chair. It was 7 pm already. I had slept for 7 hours. How was that possible? The chair wasn’t even comfortable, but I knew that being in the military meant getting accustomed to situations that were not palatable in any way.
I pushed myself off the chair with all my might and forced myself to walk to the door.
This had better be good.
I peeped through the door hole and saw Pauline. My neighbor and sister’s best friend. I swallowed the initial resentment that has built up within me and forced a smile.
What was this about?
I pulled the door’s latch and opened the door.
“So sorry to disturb you, Mr. Jonah.”
“It's okay Pauline. Is there a problem?”
