Page 3 of Boxer Next Door

“Because I’d rather spend more time with you.”

Sometimes I wondered if he was worried I would leave him the way his dad had. I would never do that, only I didn’t know quite how to tell him, especially since he didn’t like talking about his dad at all.

Bryson was like a little copy of me. Both Mike and I had dark hair, so we could both claim that addition to his genes, but he got his light gray eyes from me. Ever since his dad had left and he saw how much I was struggling for us on my own, he’d become my little helper. He helped me cook, helped me do chores. Before I had Julie helping out, he’d insisted at one point that I could leave him to get home and stay there on his own if it would make things easier for me. He was such a charming little boy, and for a month after the divorce, I’d cried for the both of us, that my little man would have to grow up without his father there for him.

He tried hard to act like it didn’t affect him, but I knew it did, and I did my absolute best, only for him.

The movie was halfway through when the doorbell rang. Bryson didn’t even bother looking up, not until I went to move away.

“Mom,” he whined, holding onto me. “It’s almost at the best part! You can't leave now.”

“But there’s someone at the door,” I replied, brushing off his hands so I could get up. “You can just tell me how it goes later, okay? With as much detail as you’d like.”

It was enough to placate him.

“Okay!” he chirped, turning back to the movie. He’d lost the smile, full concentration on his face.

I grinned to myself because I knew the concentration was because he didn’t want to miss anything so he could recount it all later perfectly. The doorbell rang again, and I hurried over to answer it.

I opened it, only to find the gorgeous new neighbor from next door.

2

Lydia

My breath caught in my chest, eyes widening in a moment of surprise.

Fuck.

He hadn't moved in that long ago. I’d never officially met him, but it had been a weekend when he moved in, so I was at home to notice all the commotion. I’d seen him around the place, through the windows as he fixed up the house, outside fixing a broken shutter, even out on the yard, blowing leaves into piles to be gathered.

Every time I saw him, he always looked busy. There were occasions where I’d called a hello over the fence or given a quick wave. He’d given a distracted hello and a wave back, and that was about as far as the interactions between us had gone.

So what was he doing on my doorstep?

Even though I knew better, I could feel my heart start to beat faster. My neighbor was a bit of a looker. Okay, that was understating it—the guy was very good-looking. If I had been several years younger, or he had been older, I might have found some courage to explore it. But he was too damn young for me.

And besides, after Mike and that heartbreak, I knew better.

“Hi,” my sexy neighbor said, giving me a bashful grin. “We’ve never talked before, but I live next door.”

I smiled back, hiding my initial surprise. “No, I know who you are. I’m just surprised to see you here, I guess. Is there something I can do for you?”

“I was hoping there was something I could do for you.”

His answer left me confused. Before I could figure out what he meant, or just ask for it, he was holding his hand out to me, grinning.

“I’m Ken Davis,” he introduced. “And I am so sorry, but… I kinda knocked down the wooden privacy fence in your backyard,” he admitted sheepishly and hurried to add, “I swear it was a total accident. I was working out back and it just somehow happened. And I promise I will repair the fence, and I can pay you for damages to your yard.”

He stopped talking, and for a moment I didn’t know what to say. Mostly because I hadn't been listening to him.

Dammit. His eyes…

There was so much more about him that was good-looking than just his eyes. He had blond hair, he was tall and so fit; I was pretty sure Olympians would look at him and feel jealous. He’d obviously just come from work, dressed in a tank top covered with a light jacket and looking like he was sweating even in the cold weather we had. There was a hint of a tattoo at the top of his tank top, and I wished silently that it were just a little lower.

I’d never seen him this close, and I’d never had the chance to admire his eyes before. They were so green, beautiful, reminding me of a time when Mike, Bryson, and I went out to camp one summer. It was one of the last happy memories we’d had as a family and something precious to me. Looking into Ken’s eyes, I could hardly think.

I did clue into his words when I heard the words ‘fence’ and ‘knocked down.’ Then he was talking about repairing my fence, and I figured out what he’d come for.