More, Please (9 page)

His eyes are locked on mine with an
expression I’m not really familiar with. Is it… admiration?

“Good for you, Allie,” he replies with a
grin.

I look at him, suspicious.

“What? I’m serious. Good for you,” he
reiterates. “You know what you need, and you find a way to get it.”

“Thanks,” I say, for lack of knowing what
else to say. His response wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. Then again,
nothing about Logan is ever what I’m expecting.

- LOGAN -

I step into the crisp spring air and into
the stillness of the night. Allie didn’t leave her front porch light on this
evening and I see her car is gone. So I flick on my own light so that she won’t
be welcomed home by the darkness when she returns.

She must be at one of those parties
tonight, I imagine with a slight grin. I hadn’t pegged her for the kind of girl
who had ever even wrapped her fingers around a vibrator, and she
sells
them?

I step quietly past her door so that I
don’t get her latest dogs fired up. The German shepherd and husky seem pretty
docile, but that corgi is a spitfire. I’ve never seen so much energy and muscle
packed into a tiny frame.

It’s the first night of having a neighbor
for me since Annapolis, and I have to admit, I like it. With the windows open
to let the cool spring air in, I could hear her friends talking up a storm all evening
till the three of them left at about nineteen hundred hours.

Background noise like their chatter soothes
me, and till she came along, I was regretting buying this stretch of townhomes
so far off the road. I still do, a little.

I turn the key in #3 and flick on the
lights. No matter that I don’t like it here. These townhomes will be complete
by fall if all continues to go on schedule. And I’ll be free to move on to
something else.

Someplace else. But where?

My heart tugs me toward San Diego. But
I’m not ready to face the demons of my past. Even now, as the thought passes
quickly, my throat burns enough that I’m pulling two antacids from the pill box
stashed in my cargo shorts.

No, not San Diego, I decide as I pour
some cream paint into a roller tray and load up my brush.

I’ll stay here, where I can at least keep
an eye on my family for a while longer. At least till Dad and Mom face reality
and settle him into a good memory care facility so that my mother isn’t
spending her every waking hour worrying he’ll wander off and forget where the
hell he is going.

Or am I using my family as an excuse?

I’m gratefully pulled off this dangerous
road of thought when I hear a knock at the door. “Come in,” I shout, knowing it
must be Allie. No one else would show up here this late at night.

“Hey. You’re up late,” she notices.

Her hair is down around her shoulders and
I think she’s wearing the same outfit that she wore the night we met. I
recognize the silk blouse and my fingers can still remember the feel of it
against her skin as I held her. She steps inside and her heels click against
the floor. Heels on her look as sexy as sin simply because she doesn’t seem the
type to wear them usually. So looking at her in heels is like looking at a tree
all covered in Christmas lights. Something special. A treat. A feast for the
eyes.

And too damn young for me to feast upon,
I remind myself.

“So are you,” I respond. “Party tonight?”

She smiles at me, as though we share a
special secret, and I’m assuming there are probably only a handful of other
guys who know her alter ego as a sex toy salesperson.

“A good one,” she answers, glancing
around the room. “I made a ton of sales.” She reaches for one of the rollers on
the ground. “Can I help?”

“You’re all dressed up.”

She dips her roller into the pan.
“Believe me when I tell you that there is nothing in my wardrobe worth saving.”

I glance her up and down in her outfit
and feel quite differently. Sure, it doesn’t look like it came off a mannequin in
some exclusive boutique store, but she wears it well.

“Besides, I’ll be careful,” she adds.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Damned if my
cock doesn’t twitch at the thought of her in bed.

“Shouldn’t you?” she counters, easing
alongside of me and putting her roller to the wall. “I’m too fired up right now
to sleep, anyway. These women were particularly chatty tonight.”

I shrug, giving in, but hoping she
doesn’t get anything on that blouse. I have a strange sentimentality for it. “So
what constitutes a good crowd at one of these parties of yours?” I ask.

“Pretty broad range. But they need
expendable income. So they are usually a little older than I am.”

“Married or single?” I find I’m curiously
fascinated by this.

“Usually married.”

“And looking for a way to liven things up
in the bedroom?”

She shakes her head. “Actually, not
really. I think most of them are just looking for a reason to get together with
their friends, have a few drinks and a few laughs. I’d bet at least half of the
things I sell to them go unused. They just wanted to have a reason to vent.”

She stoops over to get more paint and I
can’t help noticing how the black material on her skirt frames some really
remarkable curves.

“Think about it,” she continues. “I
provide an atmosphere where women actually get to talk to each other about men and
sex in a completely unique way. You can’t even imagine the stories I hear.” She
laughs suddenly. “Believe me, I walk out of those parties wondering what the
hell I’ve been missing.”

A laugh escapes me and I glance her way
to see a blush creeping up her neck. Obviously, she hadn’t intended to let that
thought slip out. “Things a little slow in that arena?”

Raising her eyebrows, she looks at me,
cocking her head slightly and looking delectable enough to eat. “Logan, I live
in freaking Newton’s Creek. Of course things are a little slow in that arena.”

I frown slightly, suddenly worried she
might head back to Bergin’s. My protective side flares up. “Well, promise
you’ll be a little more careful about picking up men in bars. There’s no way
you should have followed me up to my room.”

She sputters, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. I could have been an axe
murderer.”

Her laughter somehow makes half the blood
in my brain drift toward my groin.

“That’s exactly what Kim said.”

“Yeah, well, Kim’s right,” I advise her.
“As I was on the receiving end of it, I wasn’t going to complain that night,
believe me. But now that I know you better, if you’re going to try that on a
man again, promise you’ll talk to me first.”

She turns her face toward mine and her
eyelids are heavy, seductive. “I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Oh, shit. That’s not how I meant it. “So
I can talk you out of it,” I clarify.

Biting her bottom lip, she turns her face
toward the wall again. “I made that much of an ass of myself, did I?”

“What do you mean?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing.” She puts
her roller back in the pan. “I better get to sleep.”

I grasp her hand as she starts to step
away. “Wait. I have a feeling I said something wrong, and I’d really like to
know what.”

“You said nothing wrong. You were being
honest. I acted like an idiot that night, and it was certainly enough to be a
permanent turn-off for any guy. I really understand. And I appreciate this big
brother attitude you’ve got toward me, but it’s somehow insulting after we
kissed like we did.” Her sigh is tight, as though her throat is clenched.

“Hold on. The fact that I’m pulling a big
brother attitude has nothing to do with the way you bolted on me that night. And
it has everything to do with the fact that you’re 24. That’s just way too young
for me.”

She scrunches up her face and looks at
me. “You said you’re 32, right?”

“Right.”

Staring at me, her big eyes look baffled.
“Okay. Yeah. Eight years difference. That’s too much for you?”

“People are like cars. You drive them too
hard, too fast, they get a lot of wear-and-tear. I’ve depreciated a lot more
than my 32-year-old counterparts, Allie.”

I hear her scoff, like she thinks I’m not
being serious. “I’m jaded, Allie,” I add, trying for simpler terms.

She still looks at me like I’m insane,
but I refuse to give her details. If I tell her about my 24-year-old
ex-girlfriend in Annapolis, I’d have to tell her how she’d freak out every time
I woke up screaming in the night, or asked me to please not mention the fact
that I was seeing a shrink to any of her friends. Then Allie would likely say
that Vanessa was a bitch, and I honestly don’t feel that way. It was just more
than she could handle.

Hell, it was more than
I
could
handle, too. I didn’t like the night terrors and the cold sweats and the shrink
visits any more than she did.

Even though I’m a lot better now, the
women I’ve dated recently have been a little older, and less starry-eyed and
idealistic than the 24-year-old standing next to me. That suits me well.

Yet, I’ll admit, not one of them makes my
heart pound like Allie is doing right now.

“Okay,” she finally says quietly. “That’s
probably for the best anyway, seeing as you live next door and you’re giving me
the townhome for free. I might start thinking I need to pay you back in some
way.” She cracks an adorable smile.

I’m not sure if it was intentional, but
her words have me thinking of several ways I’d love her to pay me back, and
they’d probably have me sleeping a lot more soundly at night than I am right
now. I force a laugh. “Right. No strings attached on the townhome.”

I almost think I hear her mutter “damn”
under her breath. But with her rattling the paint tin to load up her roller
again, I’m not sure if I imagined it.

~ ALLIE ~

I seriously like him
, I keep thinking over the next several days
as I’m making every excuse I can to spend time with him. I know he has no
interest in me, but I can’t seem to resist being around him anyway.

I tell myself that it’s because he’s been
so generous in letting me stay, that I really should help him any chance I can.
But that’s only partly true. The fact is, just painting late into the night or
helping him install crown molding during my lunch breaks is more satisfying
than the best sex I’ve ever had.

Besides that, I’m really learning a lot,
and everything I learn I figure I can use fixing up my kennel.

If I get the foreclosure.

That’s a big
if
.

I ache slightly as I walk up the two
flights of stairs to Cass’s apartment. I helped Logan paint the crown molding
last night and it’s murder on my upper back and neck. I can think of at least a
hundred ways I’d like to get my muscles sore with that man, and painting
molding is way down on the list. But I’ll take what I can get.

I knock on Cass’s door. She swings it
open, looking frazzled in her sparkly princess makeup with one eye looking a
lot smaller than the other eye.

“You’re missing an eyelash,” I inform
her.

“I know. Damn thing fell on the floor and
Skylar ate it,” she retorts, giving a toss of her head in the direction of her
latest foster, a Shetland sheepdog. “I’m already running late for work and now
I have to go to the drug store to get more eyelashes looking like some kind of
crack whore.”

I glance her up and down. She isn’t too
far from the truth about that. The heavy makeup and big hair looks fine when
she has her forty-pound princess dress on. But in her cutaway shorts and
t-shirt, she does look like she’s in a questionable line of work.

“Want me to run over there and get some?”
I offer.

“I’ll never make it in time. It’s on the
way. I’ll be fine.” She disappears into her bathroom. “Leash is on the kitchen
table and the extra keys are next to it.”

“Thanks,” I call into her, only then
noticing her roommate passed out on the couch. I stare at her for a few beats,
more to make sure that she’s still breathing than anything else. And then I
thank God for Logan so that I don’t have to stay here till I find out about the
foreclosure.

Logan
. Again, my mind wanders happily in his direction as I shut
and lock the door behind me, with Skylar tugging at her leash.

So, Logan thinks I’m too young for him. The
very thought elicits another chuckle from me as I load Skylar into my small
hatchback with my three fosters.

Too young? Since I was twelve or
thirteen, I’ve been told I was too mature. That I should loosen up and have
more fun. Not take life so seriously. Act my age.

This is the first time anyone’s ever said
I was too young for them.

Not that I’ve dated many
thirty-somethings. There was one once who took me to dinner a couple times in
Dayton. He seemed really nice till the third dinner he forgot to take off his
wedding band before meeting me at the restaurant. That sort of made me cut
things short.

Other women might be annoyed by Logan’s
blow-off, but I’m not. I’ve been told I’m cute, but even as recently as last
month, a guy I was attracted to at an adoption event ended up dating Cass. Who
could blame him? Look at her. Then look at me. Unless a guy is attracted to my
wider, better-for-birthing hips, of course he’d go for my rail thin model
friend. I didn’t even lose an ounce of self-esteem over that one.

So I can handle having an attractive, but
off-limits man living next door, especially one who is big-hearted enough to
let my dogs and me stay there for free.

But only if I get to ogle him when he
wears a tight t-shirt.

I pull into a space right in front of Sally
Sweet’s and see Kim already setting up lawn chairs. A tray with two coffee cups
is resting on the concrete at her feet and my smile forms at the sight of it.

I love Kim. I love coffee. And the fact
that Kim brings me coffee makes me devoted to my bestie till the day I die.

“Am I late?” I ask.

Her eyes look sad. “No. I had to bolt out
of the house early. My mom was in a mood and if I stuck around, I think she
would have come up with an excuse to not babysit.”

“What’s wrong, hon? You look totally
depressed.”

“I am depressed.” She takes two of the
dogs off my hands. “Do you know what it’s like trying to be a mom to your son when
you’re living with your own mom who still treats you like you’re sixteen years
old?”

I have no clue what that would be like.
I’m still at the stage in my life when I can’t even imagine myself as a mother.
I have a hard enough time with my dogs. “I’m sorry. Did she say something
bitchy?”

She rolls her eyes. “She always says
something bitchy. And then Dad just stands there and shakes his head at me like
I’m the most disappointing thing in his life. I swear to God, Allie, I have to
get out of there.”

I sit down and sip my coffee
contemplatively. “How much money have you saved up?”

“Not enough for a down payment on
anything yet.” Kim is the manager of a flower shop just off Anders Street. And
even though she’s manager, there’s not a ton of money rolling in.

“What if you pulled Connor out of pre-K?”

“I have to put him somewhere while I
work. Daycare is just as expensive.”

“Maybe you could move in with me for a
couple months? There’s tons of space in that townhouse and Logan seems to have
a sweet spot for kids. He has a niece he really adores.”

I see something in Kim’s eyes soften, probably
from hearing about a single man who actually likes kids. I know she is
convinced they don’t exist, and after the way Connor’s dad bolted on Kim when
she said she was pregnant, I guess I can understand why she’d think that.
“Thanks. But it’s useless to move there for a couple months and then just have
to move again.”

I lean back, watching the slow traffic.
“I wonder what Logan is going to sell those townhomes for when he’s done with
them.”

She shakes her head. “A lot more than I
can afford. I guarantee it. What I need is a better job. But all the better
paying jobs won’t allow me to pick up Connor at 3:00.”

“Yeah, but with a better paying job,
you’d be able to afford aftercare.”

“And how many better paying jobs are
there around here? None. If I commuted all the way to the city, I’d be on the
road over two hours a day. Even you said you applied to the corporations close-by
and they all rejected you.”

“But that was me, not you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve sent them all résumés,
but I’m trapped till I hear back anything.”

My heart breaks for her. I don’t know how
single moms do it. I drape my arm around her. “Well, I’ve got two parties
booked this week, and I’d love to unload one on you.”

Her features brightening, she looks at
me. “Really?”

“Really.” Why not? Foreclosure or not,
she can use the income more than I can.