Page 9 of Boxer Next Door

It felt like torture, sitting cross-legged on my couch, hugging a pillow and trying to control my thoughts and slow down my beating heart.

Around the time I thought I should start up on lunch, the doorbell rang. My heart jumped into my throat as I jumped off the couch, so fast I almost stumbled. I paused to take in a deep breath, then headed for the door. I looked down at how I’d dressed up and winced.

What the fuck was I trying to do?

I was in a pair of white slacks that were a little tight around my thighs and hips. I was going a little soft, despite my efforts to exercise. I had a push-up bra on under a blouse that was pale cream and almost sheer. If I stood in the direct sunlight, you could see through the fabric, just a little. He wouldn’t see much besides the outline of my waist, but I wondered now if it had been deliberate. I could have just put on a pair of jeans and a regular top, but no.

Thinking I’d waited a little too long, I opened the door before he rang the bell again, and I sucked in my breath. I hoped he hadn't noticed.

If anything, Ken looked juicier than he did yesterday, and I wondered if he was dressing to impress just like I was.

“Hi,” he said, grinning down at me.

His grin had my body trembling even more than the rest of him, and I worried a little that my legs had turned to jelly. My hand tightened on the door, and I cleared my throat. “Please, come in,” I said, stepping aside and letting him through.

My eyes dropped down as he passed me, and I bit my lower lip to hold back a moan.

He was dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a tight sweater that outlined his perfectly muscled chest. The jeans hugged his thighs and his nice, firm ass. My fingers twitched, wanting a touch. I held back, though, because that was technically sexual harassment.

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked as I closed the door behind us, raising my eyes away from his ass.

You’re too old for someone this young and hot, I told myself.

He was standing in the foyer, looking around the house, and thankfully hadn't seen me ogling him. I knew what he was seeing and felt a little proud of myself. I’d been to the neighbor’s house years ago before they moved, and I knew the layout was different.

The front door led straight into a wide foyer that stood right in front of the stairs. On the right side, there was an open space and a large window that faced the other house next to mine. The stairs curved, so besides the landing, there wasn’t much to see. To the other side was a small coat closet. Walking around the closet’s corner led to an open living room that wouldn’t be too clear if one was standing outside the door.

If you walked around the stairs and headed to the back, you’d walk right into the open kitchen and dining areas. I had three bedrooms upstairs and two bathrooms including a master bath, and one toilet downstairs. It was an open kind of house, one that was meant to hold and raise a family, even though the whole space now only held my son and me.

I could tell Ken looked impressed with it, and I felt a bubble of pride.

“I could give you a tour of the first floor,” I offered because he hadn't replied yet. “It’s pretty much all open space, so there isn’t much.”

He looked down at me. “It’s a very good-looking house. I could tell yesterday when I was here it was different from mine.”

I nodded. “You would think so, just looking from the outside, but not all the houses around here are alike. You could say this place is my pride and joy.”

I gestured with my hand for him to follow me as I headed for the kitchen.

“The living room is there,” I said, waving my hand to the left. “This is a closet,” I gestured at the door under the stairs. “The bathroom.” Another door behind the stairs. “And this is the kitchen.”

Ken chuckled. “You weren’t kidding. There isn’t much to see, huh.”

I shrugged. “I like the open plan. I can sit on my couch and see most of the house. It’s easier to keep track of my son that way.” It was why I worked a lot on the first floor instead of using the office upstairs, that I’d fashioned from one of the guestrooms. “Now, would you like something to drink?”

“Just water would be fine,” he said with a small smile.

I got a glass and poured some water from the tap while he looked around. When I turned back to him, he was focused on a picture I had on the wall. I saw it and grimaced. I didn’t want that picture around; it wasn’t even anything great. It was a picture of a mountain, and so blurry the only way to differentiate between trees and rocks was by color.

“Can I ask who took that?” Ken asked, tilting his head at it.

I’d hoped he wouldn’t ask. I handed him the glass and looked at the picture. I tried not to look at it too much; sometimes I forgot it was even there.

“My husband took that, probably.” I shrugged. “He left it behind. I believe it’s some mountain out in Virginia. Honestly, I would have rather tossed it or locked it up somewhere, but my son, Bryson, really wanted me to keep it. I think it’s so he won’t forget about his dad, even though he’s left us, so I didn’t argue too much about it.”

Ken nodded absently, and I let out a breath of relief when he dropped the subject.

“I came to show you your backyard,” Ken said. He’d downed the water in the glass and left it on the dining table. “I’m not sure if you’ve seen it.”