So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door (2 page)

-You aren’t the boss of me.-

I shake my head, imagining her smile, as I navigate to the
DATE.COM website.

It has pretty colors, boasts pictures of happy couples, and
promises all kinds of wonderful things, if only I
sign up now
.

Sign up and pay—to find a date.

To
not
be alone any more.

As much as I hate to admit it, that sounds more than
appealing.

Alone sucks.

Oh, what the hell? I’ll have a look. Nothing says I’m
obligated to go out with any of the guys they suggest, right? Maybe I can use
this in a book somehow.

I’ll call it research.

I fill out the payment form and click to the next page.

Oh, good Lord. Now they want me to write a freaking profile?

Fuck.

Okay—it’s fine. I’m an author. I can write about myself.
Easy peasy, right?

Independent, fun-loving
,
and
generous
wench

Wench
? That probably won’t work on the more
contemporary man.

Words that describe me: successful

My friends say I’m fun and loving and fun-loving.

Beautiful woman wants a gorgeous guy
.

One look at my photos and they’ll see
that’s
a
freaking lie.

Okay. No lies. Straight-up honesty.

Single woman seeks man who can keep it in his pants
when he’s with other women, but is willing to whip it out for me…and only me.

Woman seeks man who has it where it counts and
knows how
to
use it. But
only uses it for me. Ever. Like… really, no cheats, no liars, no jiz-dribbles.

Oh, hell. This is ridiculous.

I text Leigh.

-How am I supposed to tell someone about me?-

Two minutes later, my phone rings. Leigh’s face smiles on my
display.

I slip out onto the front porch as I slide my finger across
the screen to answer. “What do they even want to know?”

“All you have to do is give a general description and tell
them you’re awesome and how much they want to date you.”

I plop onto the porch swing, allowing it to sway back and
forth as I wiggle my toes in the air. “Sure. I’ll just put something like ‘
Long,
red hair, blue eyes, average build. You should totally pick me! I’m fantastic
and you’ll love all my weird, little quirks, because they’re what make me so
incredible.’

Or I can say, ‘
My friend Leigh says you should go out with
me. She thinks I need to get laid. Actually, I
do
need to get laid, so
let’s get together. Pencil dicks and assholes need not apply.’
”

“The dicks and assholes part I like. Though you may want to
be careful about advertising the fact that you need to get laid. There’s no
telling what kind of freaks will come out of the woodwork.” Leigh giggles.

I shoo away a curious honey bee. “Aw, now, a guy who’s got a
little freak flag to fly might not be a bad thing.”

A distinctly male laugh yanks me out of the swing.

“Crap. I think he heard me.”

The blades of a pair of garden shears peek out from the
backside of a giant bush at the corner of the house next door. They lop off two
low branches in quick succession.

Leigh says, “He? He who?”

I cover the phone and raise my voice. “You know,
eavesdropping is
rude
, asshole.”

Another couple of snaps of the shears, and then the richest
voice on the planet says, “But it’s so
informative
.”

I race down the steps and around to the side of the house.

Hedge clippings lie scattered across the strip of lawn
between our homes, but my neighbor is nowhere to be seen.

I kick at the limb closest to my foot. Its sharp tip jabs
into the side of my toe. “Ouch. Damn it.”

I hobble toward my porch.

“Hey, I’m still here.” Leigh’s small voice squeals through
the speaker.

I put the phone to my ear. “Idiot man.”

“Who? The neighbor?” She gasps. “
Sugar glider
guy?”

“Yes. Him. Who else? He’s really starting to piss me off.”

“You never did say…is he hot?”

I blow a strand of hair from in front of my eyes.

“
Hot
? I have no idea. He’s covered in hair. I haven’t
actually seen his face.” I raise my voice a couple of decibels. “He’s probably
hiding some sort of weird mole that has its own zipcode.”

“Aw, now. He might not be bad looking. You should ask him
out.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it for a
moment. “Are you
nuts
? He’s been nothing but a pain in the ass since he
moved in. Any man who identifies rainforest animals in my vajayjay isn’t
someone I’d be interested in. Besides, when his stuff arrived, the moving van
was parked in front of my driveway all day. I couldn’t go anywhere. He’s rude.”

“And where
exactly
did you want to go? Because you
hardly leave the house.”

“That’s what
he
said, almost verbatim. I didn’t
need
to go anywhere, but if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t. That’s the point.” I drop
into the swing.

An exasperated sigh comes through the line. “Kelsey, really?
Give the guy a chance. He might be the man of your dreams.”

“He might also be a serial killer who worms his way into
women’s homes by saving their cats and acting all strong alpha-male, talking
smooth-like with his sexy-as-sin voice.”

“Ah. So his voice is sexy?”

“Doesn’t matter what his voice is like. He’s a mountain-man
on a motorcycle. Not my type. At all. Not even close.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, go post your profile on the site.
And, for the love of
sex
, please leave out anything to do with your
concerns of serial killers and your aversion to beards. Underneath that hair,
he might be—”

I almost yell when I cut her off. “He
could
be hiding
a face only his mother would love.”

“Why are you yelling at
me
?”

The indignation in her voice makes me giggle. “I’m not. I’m
yelling so if he’s still eavesdropping, he’ll get an earful. The jackass.”

“I love you, friend. I’m hanging up now. You’re hopeless.”

I pull off my ball cap and swipe the sweat from my brow. Another
armful of shrub clippings and tree limbs go into the wheelbarrow. I grab my
shoulder, massaging it to work out the tightness.

I push through the piece-of-shit gate that hangs by one
hinge.

Have to add that to the list too, I guess.

My
to-do
versus my
all-done
tally is fucked.

This house has turned out to be one cluster-fuck after
another. Pull up the linoleum in the kitchen and discover the subflooring is
rotten. Take out the toilet to swap out the wax ring, only to find that I need
to replace the entire thing.

But it’s fine. I’m a man. A real man can handle this shit.
All
of this shit.

Besides, no matter how bad they might be, house repairs are a
cinch compared to being stationed in that God-forsaken desert on the other side
of the globe, for months on end. Never knowing when I’d draw my last breath.

No.
This
is nothing. I’m no longer property of the
U.S. Army. That alone makes pretty much
anything
that happens on this
side of the planet better.

I shake off lingering regret about how it all ended and what
brought me home. Nothing can be done about any of that now.

Just suck it up and press on, Hardick.

I dump the load and return to the backyard. A mess spreads
across the ground from where I clipped the hedge that backs up to the fence
separating my yard from the little hottie’s next door.

My cock stirs thinking of the pussy I caught sight of the
other morning. I close my eyes and try to hang on to the image. The twitch in
my pants brings a smile to my face.

Hell, lately, it makes my fucking day every time I get so
much as a hint of a hard-on—even if it does come with a helluva price.

Her expression was epic. And the satisfaction of delivering
her cat to her, after she acted like it was my fault that I got a look at the
goods, made it worth every bit of the pain I endured to climb that damned tree.

Perv?

Well, okay, maybe a little. But what man isn’t?

“The words, Leigh! I need
more words.” The voice
comes through the fence. “I need
all
the words.”

It’s
her
. Kelsey.

I freeze, hands full of leaves, ear cocked toward the yard
next door.

“If I don’t get a book finished—and
soon
, I won’t be
able to pay my rent in a few months. I’m getting scared.”

“Aw, sweetie. You’re going to write again. I know it.”

“I—I think he’s killed the writer in me.” Kelsey’s voice quivers,
like she might cry, and there’s something else…

Hopelessness.

I’d recognize that tone anywhere. Unfortunately, I’m all too
familiar with it.

He?

“Stop that. He didn’t kill anything,” another woman replies,
strong and insistent. “You
are
a hell of a writer. It’s in your
bones…no, it’s in your
soul
. He can
never
take that from you.
Never.”

Who’s
he
? I wonder what she writes.

I shake off my curiosity and pitch the leaves into the
wheelbarrow.

It’s bad enough that I overheard her half of a phone
conversation yesterday. I can’t let her catch me blatantly listening through
the fence.

I toss crap from the rubbish pile in the corner of the yard
into the trash bin.

Kelsey sighs. “I’m not so sure. It
feels
gone.”

I
could
go inside and let them have their privacy.

Fuck that. I have shit to do.

“All you need is to get laid or licked or
something
.
It’ll loosen up those words and get you going again,” her friend says.

My cock jumps to attention.

I’d like to lick that sugar glider. I bet she tastes as sweet
as seven kinds of heaven.

Her friend’s got good ideas.

A groan comes through the fence. Kelsey obviously doesn’t
agree.

I grab my water bottle.

Can’t blame a guy for taking a break when it’s hot and he
needs hydration, right?

If the neighbors happen to be outside, chatting about
getting licked, and he can hear them, it’s not his fault.

Screw it. I’m a fucking eavesdropper. It is what it is.

I chug some water.

“Getting laid
or licked
would be great. But—I—I’ve wondered
if I need to be in a relationship to write romance novels. How can I write love
stories when I have no
romance
in my life?”

“Like you really had any romance with Matt.”

Clearly Leigh is less than impressed with this Matt guy.

Something hits the fence only feet from me.

A deep sigh rushes out of someone, likely Kelsey.

“You’re right. I don’t remember the last time he
complimented me. I’m not sure he really
looked
at me anymore—it’s
probably been years. And he hadn’t done anything even remotely romantic in
ages.”

Her friend speaks in a hushed tone. “See? You don’t need
him—or any man—to romance you for you to be able to write. You only have to
do
it
.”

Another knock against the fence.

Is she hitting it? Kicking it?

“Do you think I could start all over again? I mean…sometimes,
I lay in bed at night and think I’ll be alone forever.” Kelsey’s voice is sad—almost
morose.

Shit. I need to get the fuck out of here. This isn’t any of
my business.

I turn away and drop my empty water bottle on top of the
trash in the wheelbarrow. It tumbles off the pile, bouncing off the paving
stone below with a hollow, plastic thump. I pick it up and toss it in again.

A woman like Kelsey should never wonder if she’s pretty. She
should simply know it.

One thing’s for certain—whoever the fuck this Matt is, he
must be blind or stupid. Or both.

Whispers from her yard, along with rustling bushes, pulls my
attention to the fence.

A widened eye stares through a knothole directly in front of
me.

The friend says, “That fucker
is
over there, probably
listening in on everything we’re saying.”

Aw hell. Busted.

Lowered voices rise as they discuss what to do about my
rudeness
.

Sounds an awful lot like Kelsey is trying to keep her friend
from confronting me.

My mouth dries, and I rub the grit from the back of my neck.

Just got to own that shit.

Suddenly, a face pops over the top of the fence. Wild, curly
auburn hair blows in the breeze.

The friend.

She pushes up further so her arms hang over the wood. “
You.
”

I let out a breath.

Time to fess up.

I grin. “Yeah. Yeah. I heard you two. Sorry. I’m trying to
work here.”

Her lips purse for a second—or three. “My friend is having a
hard time—”

“Leigh!” Kelsey squeaks.

Leigh shoos her friend away and returns her attention to me.
“The least you could’ve done was to be gentlemanly enough to tell someone you’re
there.”

I nod. “I’ll be sure to do that next time.”

Kelsey’s eye shows up in the tiny knothole. “You know,
eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves.”

“That’s all right. There isn’t a lot of good to say about
me. And don’t worry. Your secrets are safe.”

Kelsey’s snort is accompanied by a huff from Leigh.

I lean down and look directly into the big, blue eye staring
through the fence. “I’d
never
tell anyone that you need to be licked—and
laid. Or that you were with some douche named Matt who probably couldn’t tell
the difference between his dick and his hemorrhoids.”

I straighten.

Leigh’s mouth drops open, but only for a second before a
grin takes over. She looks down at Kelsey. “I think I like him.”

I turn to the knothole, but Kelsey’s not there.

Leigh knocks on my side of the fence. “So. You up for the
task at hand?”

I pull my shades down and meet her gaze. “
Task
?”

She holds up one hand, hiding her finger as she points at Kelsey,
and in the loudest whisper ever, she says, “Lick and lay? Will you be her
get-laid-guy?”

My dick hardens in an instant as my smile widens.

A gasp is followed by a smack.

Leigh jumps and frowns over her side of the fence. “
What?
”

I play it cool and shrug. “Seems like the neighborly thing
to do.”

“Leigh Spears. You are a
terrible
friend,” I whisper
from beside the trashcan Leigh’s perched atop.

She winks at me and turns to Adam. “Don’t listen to her. I’m
a wonderful friend. Someday, she’ll appreciate the madness of my methods.”

I grab the waistband of her jean shorts and drag her off the
garbage bin. She lands on her butt, sprawled on the grass.

Good. Serves her right.

I glare at her. “What is
wrong
with you?”

She jumps up and brushes off. “I’m looking out for my friend,
who is in desperate need of some cock and tongue. That’s all.”

My fists tighten at my sides. I open my mouth, but the words
I
should
be able to spit at her are jumbled in an embarrassed wad of
letters at the bottom of my boiling brain.

All I manage is a growl. I stomp my foot and grit my teeth.

When the words still won’t come, I turn and storm into my
house, leaving my friend staring at my backside.

She catches up with me in the living room.

Her brows are drawn, and her big, brown eyes plead with me.
“Aw, honey. Please forgive me. I’m sorry. I went too far, didn’t I?”

The heat from my brain spreads through the rest of me.
“How—how could you do that? I have to live next door to that man.”

Her expression changes from contrite to
excite
in
one-point-oh-four seconds. “Did you see his pecs? And those tats? I bet all you
have to do is
ask
. Fucking ask, woman. I sure as hell would.”

I drop my face into my palms and my ass onto my small sofa.
“Yes. How could I
not
see? I’ll never be able to
un-see
what I
saw through that knothole.”

Adam is built like those statues you see at the art museum,
and tribal tattoos cover him from shoulders to wrists. Spiky, twisty designs in
dark, bold strokes, tempered by shades of blue, like clouds floating behind
them.

Leigh falls onto the cushion beside me. “Told you he was
probably totally hot. He’s more than hot, girly…he’s fucking—I don’t even know—nuclear
and shit.”

I shake my head. “And
shit
. He eavesdrops on my
conversations. And his face is covered with hair. And—”

“And. So. The. Fuck. What? You aren’t making love to his
face. That
body
. My friend, you’d better get some of that before it
disappears, because that man is
not
going to be single for long. I mean,
if
he’s single now.”

I peek through my fingers at her lascivious expression. “He’d
better be single, making offers like
that
.”