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His brow furrowed as if he had no idea what that phrase meant. “Thanks, Miss Wells?”
“It’s Viv,” she reminded him even though she felt she’d definitely earned that Miss Wells. Who says good egg? Glenn had her feeling all sorts of off balance and apparently turning her into a fifty-year-old Sunday school teacher.
As she closed the door, she thought about taking the time to do a quick Google search of Glenn “The Gladiator” Maguire but decided against it.
For some reason the thought of him becoming even more attractive to her was intimidating. That was not an emotion that Viv was familiar with at all. Men did not intimidate her. But around Glenn she felt…shy.
It was very out of character for Viv.
She did a double check in the mirror and liked what she saw. She was wearing jeans and a tank top; both accentuated her hourglass figure without seeming like she was trying too hard. But make no mistake, she was trying very hard.
She might not be able to date the man, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want him to want to date her.
As she started out the back door her phone rang and she saw that it was Audrey Facetiming her. She swiped the screen to answer the call. “Why aren’t you having wild sex with your fiancé?!”
Audrey, who was used to Viv’s outrageousness, didn’t even blink. “I just wanted to remind you about the dogs tomorrow and the library on Saturday.”
Shit.With getting a house yesterday, the move today, and Glenn “The Gladiator” Maguire showing up as her tenant she had actually forgotten about both of those things.
“You don’t have to call and remind me about every little thing Auds.”
Audrey’s eyes narrowed.
“Okay, fine, for one very brief moment, they might have slipped my mind, but I would have remembered.”
“I’ll text you in the morning.”
“Go. Have. Sex!” Viv emphasized each word.
“You heard the woman!” She heard her soon-to-be brother-in-law Josh in the background and what sounded like an ass slap.
A blush rose on Audrey’s face.
“You kids be good and do everything that I would do,” Viv instructed before disconnecting the call.
As she put her phone back in her pocket a feeling of rightness washed over Viv. Over the past year all of her sisters had found their forevers. Their ride-or-dies. The peanut butter to their jellies. And Viv was happy for them, she was. But she couldn’t help but wonder if it was ever going to be her turn.
Maybe if you weren’t wasting time having dinner with a guy who was off-limits, her inner self who was a little judgmental and sounded a lot like the classic Dana Carvey SNL character called The Church Lady piped up.
I’m being neighborly, she replied to The Church Lady.
That was her story and she was sticking to it. She grabbed the pizza and a bottle of wine that she planned to give Glenn as a housewarming gift and headed out back.
* * *
Glenn staredat his reflection in the mirror. He needed to get his shit together. When Vivien had shown up at his door with her long red hair flowing over her shoulders, and a tank top that showed off just enough cleavage to hint at what was beneath the cotton his body had responded on its own accord.
He’d let her in and then immediately had to excuse himself to go to the bathroom under the guise of washing his hands just to try and get his body under control. He’d left a very confused Vivien in the kitchen setting a bottle of wine on the counter while Bree talked a mile a minute about the ice cream that she’d gotten today at Two Scoops and the birds she’d fed down by the river with her cousins and Aunt Amy.
Glenn’s jaw clenched as he turned on the faucet and put his hands beneath it. He didn’t have time to take a cold shower but he hoped a cold handwash would do the trick. He hadn’t popped wood like this since he was in seventh grade and he’d had Mrs. Castillo, who was the spitting image of Sofia Vergara, as a history teacher. In fairness to him, he wasn’t the only kid whose pecker was poking the bottom of the desk in the class. Her pinup worthy curves in tight sweaters and even tighter skirts had ushered many a tween boy into manhood.
But he wasn’t an inexperienced twelve-year-old whose balls had barely dropped. He was a man in his thirties who’d been with plenty of women.
Although, it had been a long time. Maybe that was why his reaction to Vivien had been so intense. Maybe it had been too long. He considered that possibility for all of two seconds before realizing that he met women all the time and never had this sort of visceral, primal response to them.
Before washing his hands, he’d adjusted himself so that if his body decided to act like it was at the height of puberty, it wouldn’t be glaringly obvious. His plan was to have a few slices of pizza, then let Bree know that it was bedtime.
Twenty minutes tops and she’d be out of there. Then he could spend the rest of the night tossing and turning thinking about how she was sleeping about twenty yards away from him.
