Like I said, I haven’t seen him since the day he borrowed detergent. His truck has been gone, which makes me wonder if he’s got a girlfriend. One he visits regularly. For some reason, that makes me feel a little defeated. Truthfully, I feel a lot defeated. I don’t know why, because a guy like Sam Griffin isn’t going to drop everything for someone like me.
“Shake it off, Colette.” There’s no point getting all maudlin about my neighbor. He’s out of my league. Maybe it’s time to start going out with my sisters or my single niece or one of my two remaining high school friends—or I could download one of those apps for dating. Hell, maybe I’ll even try that sexy hookup one. Maybe I just need to get laid.
“You need to get laid?”
I freeze. Well, I wasn’t really moving in the first place, but I freeze anyway.
This cannot be happening.
Slowly, I open one eye, then the other. Sam is standing in the grass at the bottom of my deck steps. “I said that aloud?”
“Yep.”
Why? Why does this kind of shit always, always happen to me? Like the time in eleventh grade when I wanted to ask Jimmy Carter—no relation to the former president—to prom. I rehearsed it a million times to my friends and alone. It was when I was standing near my locker that Jimmy heard the whole thing. Something about butterflies and young love, yada, yada, yada. You get the idea. And he wasn’t alone. Needless to say, Jimmy declined my kind offer of a prom date, and the two of us never spoke again. In retrospect, I’m glad. I’ve seen his profile picture on Facebook. He hasn’t aged well.
I need to shake this off. I’m sure plenty of women have had this kind of reaction to Sam Griffin. With my head held high, I smile. “Just telling Henry…” Okay, now I’m admitting to the sexy-as-sin next-door neighbor that I talk to my cat. Not only that, I tell the cat about my sex life.
Cue sad trombone.
“I was just talking nonsense. I do that.”What a save, Colette!
His voice is deep and soft. “If it makes you feel any better, I talk to myself as well. Not about that, necessarily.”
Is he trying to make me feel better?
Is it working?
Not so much.
“That’s nice of you to say.”
“So, is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“You lonesome, Colette?”
My god. The balls on this man. I’m sort of shocked at his question. My mouth is opening and closing like a fish that just flopped onto dry land.
It’s not attractive.
“No. I’m not lonesome.” And that’s the truth. I’m alone, but not lonesome. And I wouldn’t say just because I’m a tad horny it means I’m lonely either. “I’m perfectly content on my own.”
“I see…”
He does? What does he see?
“Not gonna lie. I think you’re sexy as fuck, Colette.”
Jumping up and down is out of the question, right? “Oh?” I say, as cool and collected as I can muster at this time.
“I’ve seen you in your sexy little summer dresses and sandals coming and going.”
Sexy little dresses and sandals?
He’s referring to my Old Navy dresses and flip-flops from the same store. The $2.99 ones.
“I’ve seen you, too. You really know how to wash your truck. You’re thorough.”
