“Of course I did.”
“I brought your soap.” With his left hand, he lifts the bright yellow bottle. “Sorry I didn’t get it back to you sooner; I was out of town on a job the last couple of weeks.” He raises his other hand, and I see he’s got another large, orange jug of detergent, but it’s the good stuff. “I also got you this to make up for the fact I didn’t get this back to you before I left.”
“Oh.” Well, that’s nice. “Thanks.”
We stare at one another for a beat before I blurt, “What do you do for a living, Sam?”
“I own my own construction company.”
“Construction?” I guess that still means he works with wood.
Yay.
“Yep. Residential mostly, but we’ve done a couple commercial projects.”
Blinking, I look at him, then at the duplex. It doesn’t make sense that he lives here if building houses is his thing. It makes me curious, so I ask, “Why do you live here?” I point at the house behind me.
“I bought some land just outside of town. I’m building a place. Put my condo up for sale, and it went fast. This place was available as a short-term rental, so I’m here for now.” He shrugs.
“Oh,” I squeak. It came out sort of whiny and sad. It can’t be helped, because it means he’s not going to be around for long. “I see.”
“The guy who owns this place is on my crew.”
“Brian?”
“Yep. Brian McKinley.”
“Hm.”
I can’t think of anything else to say, especially since I just humiliated myself in front of him. So, we stare again. I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of something. Sadness? Disappointment? Maybe both. That dream felt so real. But that’s all it was. Just a dream.
Chapter Ten
Dream Girl
Sam
She needs to get laid?
My mind goes a little numb for a second. I’m staring at her because I’m speechless. I mean, I realize she wasn’t saying those wordsto me, she was talking to herself. Still. I’d love to be the man to oblige her, but I know Colette. Well, I know the type. She’s not a one-night-stand kind of woman. I mean, she might be, it’s just, I’m not the kind of guy who’d sleep with a woman like Colette and want to be one and done.
No. Because she’s … she’s a fucking wet dream. She’smyfucking wet dream.
I’ve done some thinking while I was away on the job. Thoughts about my life, the direction I’m headed, that sort of shit. One thing that kept recurring in those thoughts was her. My neighbor, Colette. And I’m not sure why. I mean, I barely know her, and the few times we’ve interacted, it’s been casual—aside from when her crazy great-nephew broke into my house. To say that scene was awkward as hell is an understatement. What must she think of me with my porn-movie-production-size container of lube? I should explain, but, honestly, I don’t want to bring it up.
No, I need to approach this like a man. A man who’s interested in a woman who just happens to be his next-door neighbor. Sure, I know this could go sideways and make living next to each other uncomfortable, but what if it doesn’t? What if it turns out to be the best decision I ever make?
Now she knows what I do for a living. She knows I’m only a temporary neighbor. That could be good for both of us, especially if this thing doesn’t work out.
“So…” I look up at her. “I’ve got no food at my place…”
“Oh. Do you need something?” She jumps up from her lounge chair so fast, the cat that’s been curled up on her lap startles and darts away. In the direction of my house. And, of course, my patio door is open.
She’s standing now, reaching for her door handle. I take a second to check out her outfit. She’s got on a T-shirt. It’s old and looks like it’d be soft to the touch. Sadly, there’s nothing funny on this one like her cat shirt from that day we met. This one is a band tee of a group I haven’t really listened to. My eyes look up at her hair piled on top of her head. She’s got beautiful hair. Nothing I’d like more than tugging on it from behind. I look down at cutoff jean shorts that aren’t short enough. She’s got curvy legs, thick thighs. Fucking gorgeous. I’d love to nibble on her inner—
“Are you hungry? I could whip something up for you.”
“I was thinking about going out. Have you eaten?”
