I’d inherited my half of the townhouse after my dad had died six years ago, and had every intention of selling back then. But, admittedly, every once in a while, it’s nice to have a place to go away from the rowdiness of base. So I’d held onto it, splitting my time between base and here.
The previous renter of Teddy’s side had retired and moved to Florida—why the hell anyone would go to that croc infested hellhole is beyond me—and four months ago Cal and I had helped his heavily pregnant, newly widowed younger sister move in with her two kids. I spend a helluva lot more time here than I used to, now that she’s next door.
I can’t seem to stay away.
I curse, then strip, turning the water on in the shower. I turn the taps down until it’s just above frigid and step in, hissing between my teeth as the cold water makes contact with my skin. After the heat of the day, it’s welcome, though it does take a few minutes to get used to.
It’s been a crazy summer of constant fires, we’ve been gone more than usual. Normally, I’d be loving it; I’ve always been happiest when I’m out in the field with my crew, but I hate knowing Teddy is here alone.
The guys razzed me mercilessly for weeks after the night I’d helped Teddy deliver Bea, teasing me about my new off-season career; Doula Services. Though I knew it was all in good fun, I felt extraordinarily protective—and concerningly possessive—over the single mom and admittedly, that feeling hasn’t diminished at all in the months since.
When I step out of the shower just a few minutes later, all is quiet through the wall that separates my apartment from Teddy’s. Toweling off lazily, I chuck the towel into the hamper and cross the room to the dresser to pull on a pair of boxer briefs and a set of loose athletic shorts. I shove my head and arms through another old, ratty t-shirt with the arms cut out of it and pad through the rapidly darkening house to the kitchen, where I snag a beer from the fridge.
I’m not on call tonight, which is why I’m even here at all. I used to sleep exclusively at base in one of the several tiny bunks we have offered to our out-of-town crew members. But apparently, my weakness is a single mom with honey blonde hair and curves for days. So, here I am.
I step out the back slider door that leads to my partitioned off patio, taking my beer with me. Teddy has the same patio set up on her side of the townhouse, though I’ve never wandered over toward it, except for today, when we’d walked back around the house after stopping Penny-the-Runaway. I’d just gotten glimpses of it, not wanting to seem like I was spying on her space.A small patio table surrounded by four chairs, a miniature wooden picnic table littered with an array of outdoor toys, a baseball bat, a glove, and a small bucket of baseballs. Colorful sidewalk chalk art covers the concrete patio floor.
Mine looks sad and boring compared to hers. One single folding chair and an overturned, ancient milkcrate that serves as a little table next to it. A propane gas grill sits off to the side. My dad had rarely stayed here when he was alive, choosing to bunk at base most nights when we weren’t on location for a fire. He was only ever here for off season, but the man hadn’t known how to relax in the slightest, so he’d always been off on other projects.
I sink down into the sun-faded, weather worn folding chair,the metal legs creaking as it absorbs my weight. Another reminder of my age. At almost forty-three, I can still out run most of the guys on my crew decked with full gear and can confidently say I’m in prime physical shape. But I can recognize that my body is starting to slow and change. The once defined, heavy muscles in my arms, shoulders, and back have started to soften slightly. I’m not in the same physical condition as I was in my twenties. I snort a laugh as I take a long swallow of my beer. Fuck, that was a long time ago. Cal loves to remind me of my ‘advanced age’, the fucker.
The sun has faded beyond the front of the house as dusk approaches, the velvety periwinkle sky bleeding into the darker navy on the edge of the horizon, casting the backyard into pale shadows.
I lift the beer to my lips again when a movement to my right catches my eye and I have to force myself not to jump upright. I hadn’t even heard her patio door slide open, but through the pale dusky light I see Teddy wandering over from her side of the townhouse. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, curling slightly as it dries in the still cloyingly hot and humid air. The blonde strands seem to shine blue in the rapidly fading dusk. There’s no trace of the tears on her face from earlier, and her eyes seem bright in the twilight that surrounds us.
I shift in my seat slightly, willing my dick not to rise to the sight of her wearing what looks like a thin, soft robe that doesn’t quite reach her knees. It’s tied closed around her waist, and her arms are crossed over her stomach as she walks closer. She’s barefoot, and her legs are completely bare up to the hem of her robe. Her skin looks tanned and smooth and so fucking soft I ache to run my hands over every inch. To run my palms up and over the swell of her thighs and hips as she straddles me?—
“Hi,” I call out gruffly across the fifteen feet or so that separates us. My voice is rough and husky from my wayward thoughts.
She waves awkwardly, stopping, though I can see her eyes darting over me. My dick notices, and wonders if she likes what she sees.Dammit, down boy.
“I heard your patio door open and just wanted to come say thank you again for stopping Penny today,” she says softly. She points one hand toward her side of the apartment. “I don’t know what to do with her some days. I think she was sent here by Satan himself to test me.”
I can’t help the barking laugh that escapes my chest. Her laughter is light and self-deprecating. “I think that’s the middle child in her. Or maybe that’s the Woods genes coming out.”
Her throat tips back as she laughs again, and the sound wraps around my insides… and my cock. I’m sporting a chubby that’s now straining the material of my boxer briefs. Christ, how long has it been since I got laid? I keep my arm and beer braced in my lap to hide my erection, though I doubt she can see much in the fading light.
She wanders a few steps closer and I shift in my seat again, sitting forward so that I can lean my elbows on my spread knees in the hopes that maybe that will make it less visible.
“That’s so true. She is definitely like a mini-Cal. She’s so much like her dad, too, always running headfirst into the fray without a second thought,” she mutters, shaking her head. I can see it as she physically straightens herself, as if a puppeteer just yanked hard on a string connected to the top of her head, pulling her spine stiff. She forces a little head shake, as if to clear it, and lifts her lips in a half smile. Fuck she’s so beautiful. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. I’m so…well—" she waves one hand at herself and her body, gesturing to her ample curves, then smiles ruefully over at me again before continuing, “—I wouldn’t have caught up to her before she hit the water.”
My brows lower over my eyes in a glower as I stare at her hard. “Teddy.”
“What?” she asks, her voice shaking slightly at the hardnessof my tone. Her arms are banded around herself again, that damn self-conscious instinct to hide as much of herself as possible making its presence known. I fucking hate it. I want to see all of her. And I hate that, too.
I soften the gruffness of my voice, but none of the intensity, as I tell her, “Don’t ever let me hear you talk about yourself like that, do you understand? You’re perfect just like this.”
Her brows shoot up and those pink lips that I’ve fantasized about tasting too many times to count open in an ‘O’ of surprise.
Like the coward I am, I mumble a hasty ‘good night’ to Xander and run like the hounds of hell are nipping at my heels back to the safety of my duplex. I slide the patio door closed and flip the lock, more out of habit than any real fear that the man on the other side of the partition would follow…
My breathing is ragged, I’m fairly panting, and my heart is beating out of my chest.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around the husky, intense words he’d said, andthe wayhe’d said them. Even in the pale blue twilight, I could see his eyes as he’d watched me. His gaze hadn’t left mine, just stared at me with all that intensity arcing between us.
A very long, very dead part of me has awakened recently, much to my dismay. I haven’t let myself feel anything, don’t give myself time to think or feel or do anything other than survive day to day.
The attraction I feel for Xander is always accompanied swiftly by a wave of guilt. All I can think about at night is what those warm, sun kissed muscles might feel like beneath mypalms, my fingers. What that mouth might feel like as it presses to mine, what it might feel like to feel his weight on top of me…
