Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
DON’T CURSE IN FRONT OF LITTLE EARS.
Griffin
Tucker got stuck on a job site longer than expected and ended up being later than usual for work. In true Tucker fashion, he came barreling into the bar like his ass was on fire, apologizing profusely for being late.
It didn’t help that I had a sour attitude.
But what else is fucking new?
It wasn’t because he was late, though; the evening crowd decided today was the day they wanted to celebrate happy hour a whole hour earlier than we have scheduled.
So yeah, I’m driving home with a piss-poor attitude.
Only to pull into my driveway and become more aggravated than I was five minutes ago because Nan is sitting on my porch.
And she’s not alone.
Exiting the car, I take the steps two at a time up my front steps. “What are you doing here with that thing?”
“Oh, hello. Good evening to you too, Grumpy Griffin,” Nan jokes.
“Stop calling me that.”
She shrugs. “I just call it like I see it. ”
“If I’m so grumpy, why do you keep showing up at my house?”
“It’s a nice one. Pretty views. Lovely neighbors. Quiet. You know.” She rattles off each thing while counting with her fingers.
I narrow my eyes. “You have the same views on your side of town. See that mountain.” I point in the distance. “You can see that same one from your porch.”
She lifts a shoulder but says nothing.
“What are you doing here , Nan?”
Her face lights up as she pets the mutt’s head. “I’m dog sittin’.”
“The neighbor’s dog?”
“Yep.” She holds the dog up by its front paws, and I take a step back.
“Come on. Isn’t Reggie so cute?” she coos.
“That fucking dog’s name is Reggie ?”
“Reggie is short for Reginald.” Nan covers the dog’s ears as if it has feelings. “Don’t curse in front of little ears.”
I throw my head back and groan in frustration.
“His mom got a new job in town and is attending a brief orientation. You know how we work around here,” she emphasizes. “We offer little training and like to throw newbies right into the flames. So I offered to watch this little cutie for a bit.”
“That thing is not cute.”
“Ignore Mr. Grumpy Griffin, little guy,” she says to the dog with a cutesy tone. “He’s the meanest on the block. And you’re the cutest thing here.”
“I’m the only one on the block.”
“Not no more,” she huffs.
“So why are you here and not on her porch? Or sitting out by the lake?”
“What if the dog drowns, Griffin? And besides, she doesn’t have a large porch. And I counted about seven nails sticking out on the railing while the dog took care of his business. No, thank you. But don’t you worry”—she squiggles a finger in the air—“ she’s planning to fix her up real good one day. She’s going to make it bigger too.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Can she do that?”
Nan barks out a laugh. “I doubt it. She’s a city girl through and through. I mean, did you see the Benz? Whoa, nelly. Fancy pantsy,” she jokes before her laughter dies down. “But hey, I’m interested in seeing her try.”
I roll my eyes.
“You gonna let us in or not?” Nan asks. “We’re hungry.”
“Fine. But that thing stays out here.”
“He’s hungry too,” she whines.
“No.”
She groans but lets the dog off her lap. “You’re the worst.”
Opening my front door, I allow Nan to walk in first. I might live in an aggravated state, but I’m still a gentleman. I look down at the dog one more time. He’s a ball of fluff staring at me with what looks like a smile. Which is freaky for a dog. His ears stick straight up in the air as he cocks his head to the side.
“Stay,” I order.
The dog plops down on his belly, his back legs kicking out behind him while he lays flat like a pancake on the porch.
What a weird creature.
“You got nothing in this fridge,” Nan announces as I make my way into the kitchen.
I close my eyes and shake my head.
Is this happening right now?
This damn woman truly thinks she lives here.
“I haven’t had a second to get to the General Store. I have enough stuff to make two sandwiches, though.”
“That will do.” She beams, taking a seat at the counter while I pull out lunch meat and the bread. “How was work today?”
“Work was work,” I answer as I throw together the sandwich for her.
“You consider adding to that menu yet?”
“Nope,” I say, sliding a plate across the island to her .
“You’re a real pleasure to have a conversation with.”
“Yep.”
I take a bite of my sandwich and ignore the topic at hand. When I get home from work, the last thing I want to do is have more conversations. I just had to play nice for hours through the lunch shift, which turned into some of the evening shift.
I’m always professional, but I’m done with that when I get home.
The dog barks excessively on the porch.
“Oh.” Nan jumps from her chair. “Blair must be back.”
Blair .
A scowl involuntarily forms on my face as I hear my neighbor’s name for the first time. Nan rushes to the front door, her excitement palpable. Until now, I hadn’t bothered to learn more about the woman living next door, but hearing her name sends a jolt of surprise through me. It’s not one I expected, but it is a name that would be associated with some uptight, rich girl.
I take one more bite of my sandwich and follow Nan.
Nan is on the steps, waving her down. Whistling and pointing to the dog and then waving her over again before shouting her name. You know, to make sure she gets the point.
Blair notices and starts walking this way.
Great.
Perfect.
More conversation.
It’s getting darker as the minutes pass. The moon reflects off the lake, while the sun hides behind the mountain peaks. It’s not until my porch light illuminates her that I finally get a good look at the woman who’s annoyed me since she moved in. For no other reason than existing.
Now I’m fucking pissed.
She’s not supposed to be this beautiful.
From the nights I’ve watched her letting her dog out from a distance and the time I drove past her in the truck, I never once got the view I do right now .
Her hair is a natural blend of light brown and blonde that falls just above her shoulders, with subtle highlights that I bet catch the sunlight when she stands in it. She has some of it pulled back in a petite bun on top of her head, pulling the hair away from her face to allow me a good look. The tiny bun makes her look young, but…fuck. Absolutely breathtaking. It’s hard to distinguish her eye color from the setting sun, but if I had to guess, they’re amber.
The color of my favorite whiskey.
With long lashes fluttering around them.
She’s smiling at me. Jesus Christ, she’s smiling.
I take a moment to scan her from head to toe. That’s when I notice she’s wearing a dress. What is with this woman and her dress clothes? It’s a deep maroon, long sleeve to match the weather for the night and stops just above her ankles, showing off a pair of boots with a low heel.
My eyes trail back up her body, and I notice her hand extended to greet me.
“I’m Blair. It’s nice to meet my neighbor finally,” she says softly.
Looking at her hand and back up to her, I have nothing to say. The soft smile on her lips falls at the same time her arm drops to her side when she realizes I’m not shaking her hand in return.
She’s rendered me speechless, and I want to scream because of it.
The last time I saw someone the way I see her right now, she left.
She walked out of my life and this town like it meant nothing to her. Not that this would be the same, but I can’t remember the last time I even looked at a woman and thought she was beautiful. It’s a new feeling that brings back way too many bad memories.
She’s my neighbor. That’s fucking it .
I settle on, “Keep your dog away from my rose bushes,” then turn on my heel and walk back into my house.
I feel like an asshole, but I don’t regret it.
Even catching the brief feeling of hurt in her face, I can’t regret it.
She’s a city girl and doesn’t belong here.
Keeping my distance is the best thing for me.
But I have a strange feeling that my new neighbor is an angel who’s going to drag me through hell.