Let’s just say I was unprepared for a woman that looked like that. Guess I’d been expecting someone dressed up. Older. And there was this girl, disheveled in a sexy, careless way. A massive mound of hair that was wilder than Frankie’s was piled haphazardly on her head, wavy pieces falling out all around her. She wore a super tight white tank that disappeared beneath high-waisted jeans.
Those jeans should have made her look frumpy and unkempt, but instead, the whole package sent a skitter of lust racing through my veins and prodding at my dick.
She was the kind of woman who could make a grown man stumble on his feet.
Stunning.
Gorgeous.
Too sexy for her own damned good.
Or maybe mine.
I could call it a complication of abstaining for too long, but I was sure no woman had ever incited a reaction like this in me with just a glance.
She raked her arm over her sweat-drenched forehead as she headed straight for the cargo area of the SUV, which was crammed full of moving boxes. I wouldn’t mind all that much if she were hauling stuff out of that house directly across the street, but it sure as shit looked like she was moving her things in.
Tell me this girl is not moving in next door.
I clenched my jaw and grabbed Frankie’s hand, needing to get the hell out of there.
“Come on, Frankie Leigh, we’ve got to get a move on. You’re already late.”
But Frankie was already moving, bouncing down the stairs and along the walkway, waving her free hand in the air. The kid just adding to the stark sunshine that burned bright in the waning day. “Hi, hi, hi! I’m Frankie. Whose are you?” she shouted across the street.
Startled, the women’s gaze darted our direction, and the determination in her step slowed when she caught sight of my daughter.
An amused smile grew on the rosy bud of her mouth when her gaze swept the ridiculous outfit Frankie was wearing. She seemed to hesitate for a second, eyes glancing around her like she was looking for something before she changed direction, heading our way. “Hey there, Frankie, I’m Corinne Dayne, but everyone calls me Rynna.”
Rynna Dayne.
What the ever-lovin’ hell?
Could damn near feel the bewildered excitement roll through my daughter while I stood there cursing the world that just fucking loved to curse me. “Your name’s C’Rinne, too? That’s Mrs. Dayne’s name. She worked at the restaurant called Pepper’s Pies and cooked all the pies, and my daddy ate them all, all, all the way gone. Sometimes we wents to go eat there, but mostly we ate at my house right here, but now she wents to heaven.”
A bolt of sadness streaked through her expression, and fuck, if it didn’t hit me, too. Still, the smile she wore only grew. “She made the best pies in the whole world, didn’t she?”
Frankie’s excitement only amplified. “Yes! You know Mrs. Dayne, too?”
She started to cross the narrow street, all chestnut hair and java eyes and a body that was built for temptation.
Awareness ridged my spine like a steely stake of lightning, and I stepped back, my jaw tightening at the same time I protectively took hold of my daughter’s hand.
That was all that women were.
Temptation.
Trouble.
Forbidden fucking fruit.
Because all they did was condemn you in the end. So, I stayed away. Kept my distance. If I didn’t step into the fire, then I wouldn’t get burned.
Kneeling in front of my daughter, she stuck out her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Frankie. It sounds like you were a good friend of my grandma’s.”
So yeah.
I’d already figured it out.
