Chapter 6 #2
I try to ignore the little pulse of warmth her praise is stirring to life.
The last thing I should care about is the approval of my annoying neighbor’s teenaged daughter.
But I’m already imagining us outside in the grass, practicing her cheer for this tryout.
It brings up some complex emotions, and new ones that feel a little tender.
Greta rolls to her feet, the motion so fluid. I can almost imagine her on the balance beam, perfectly poised. “Um, I’d better get back,” she says in a shy voice. “Thanks for the soda.”
“I’ll text you my schedule,” I say.
“Cool.” Greta sets her empty glass on the counter and spins away. “Nice to meet you,” she says to Quinn.
“Take care, hon,” Quinn replies as Greta slips through the screen door and out of sight.
Quinn saunters over to the counter and pulls up a stool. “Daddy Linden’s gotta be doing something right. She’s got her head on straight.”
Hearing Daddy Linden from Quinn’s lips should not send a shiver down my spine. I brush it off because I shouldn’t be thinking about Linden as anything other than the object of my next retaliation.
We’re about to sit down to dinner when my phone chimes. I glance at the screen—it’s Darienne.
Quinn peeks over my shoulder, our plates in her hands on the way to the deck. “You want to take it, we can warm this up after.”
“Let me just see what she needs.” I head outside.
“Hey, Darienne,” I say into the phone. From the lake, a steady breeze brings the mineral scent of the water, its breath cool on my cheek.
“Megan,” she says. Her tone is pleasant and calm like always, but my shoulders tense. “I need to make another adjustment to the guest list.”
I put her on speaker and open my notes app. “Okay.”
She rattles off names and spelling while I type.
“And I took the liberty of changing the theme colors,” she says once we’re finished.
A sharp knot forms at the base of my throat. “Um, can I ask why?”
“Because that shade of blue is much too masculine.”
“It’s the school’s main color.” And hello, this party is for a man .
“Nobody will be able to tell the difference. You’ll thank me when you see the pictures.”
Pictures of her, likely. I rub my forehead.
“I think the caterer is charging too much for the dessert options. Have you considered an outside vendor, maybe offer cake only? These are football fans, not gourmet aficionados.”
I lean against my porch railing. This party is for my father, who after playing college ball for the Army, became a high school football coach for twenty seven years.
But of course Darienne is making this about her.
I should have never let her get involved.
This is my project. A way to show my dad that I’m proud of him.
A way to remind him that I still care. Maybe a way to bring us close again, the way we once were.
“I understand,” I say, when what I really want to say is butt out .
She gives a little huff, like this isn’t good enough for her. “You might want to rethink the two o’clock start. I don’t want everyone hammered by dinner.”
Linden slips out the back door of his house, his baseball cap on backwards.
He’s wearing a pair of swim trunks and no shirt, his skin slick with perspiration.
Like he’s been on one of his epic runs, or maybe he has a home gym?
His rounded shoulders and forearms are taut with muscle and his chest and abs are as chiseled as the rest of him.
I realize Darienne is waiting for my answer, and snap my attention away from Linden trotting down the steps to the lakeshore.
“Yes,” I manage, though I’ve lost my train of thought. “I mean, it’s worth considering.”
From the shore, Linden glances over his shoulder, like he heard my reply. Our eyes lock for an instant, and despite the cool breeze off the lake, a hot buzz fires over my skin.
“Let’s talk tomorrow,” Darienne says before hanging up.
I spin around and hurry back inside.
Quinn looks up from pouring us each a glass of water. “What is it this time?”
“She…changed one of the colors. Then...” That heat lingering in my core from Linden’s glance steals my focus. I press my fingertips to my temples. “It shouldn’t be this hard.”
The firm, broad planes of Linden’s body flashes into my thoughts but I grit my teeth. No. I am not fantasizing about my jackass neighbor.
Even if he’s hard in all the right ways.
And gentle when it counts.
I groan. Thankfully, Quinn is too busy grabbing silverware and napkins to hear it, because she would be the first one to pounce on this little nugget.
To push it all aside, I tell Quinn about Jordan’s text.
“Perfect!” she says and offers me a high five.
I picture walking into the party with athletic, charming Jordan at my side. Will that be enough to wipe that wolfish look off Russel’s face?
That night, I’m awake with my windows open to let in the cooler air but it’s not helping me sleep.
Some of the lingering tension is surely stemming from my call with Darienne.
Should I have stood up to her more? But she makes my dad happy, and he’s been alone for so long.
I don’t want to do anything that would push my dad farther away.
It makes me miss my mom. Or maybe I was already missing her thanks to that conversation with Greta. I could help her, if she wants it. Even if it hurts.
With a deep sigh, I roll over, but it only takes the brush of the cotton sheet on my knuckles to bring up the real reason for my restlessness .
It’s Linden and his caring focus. And his cocky grin. And his naked chest and strong, muscular forearms. The tattoos covering his right shoulder and down his bicep. One is roman numerals—Greta’s birthdate, maybe. I don’t know what the flock of black birds stands for.
To shove him from my thoughts, I go for the ultimate distraction and retrieve my sleek little toy and my bottle of lube from my nightstand. The lube’s mango passionfruit scent always makes me feel like I’m in the raptures of pleasure on some tropical island paradise.
I do not think about my obnoxious neighbor as I flip to my back.
Closing my eyes, I try to lose myself in this simple act of self-care.
I’m beside a private pool on a padded lounge chair while the sexy pool boy who hasn’t been able to take his eyes off me all day nibbles up my thigh.
Or I’m in the penthouse elevator with two hot billionaires promising to take turns with me until I lose consciousness.
I let out a soft moan as my climax coils inside me. This is exactly what I need right now. A reminder that I’m in control. That I don’t need a man.
The piercing squeak! from somewhere outside my window crowds into my senses. Squeak! Ka-thunk!
My fantasy bubble pops and I blink at the ceiling.
Squeak! A heavy tool ka-thumps on some surface.
“Fuck me,” I mutter.
It’s Linden. Probably in the throes of some project. It sounds like his crowbar. Did he start working on that dock renovation? It’s after ten o’clock!
I’m so done with him invading my thoughts and my peace. I toss back the covers and march down the hallway.