Chapter 3 - Malcolm
Malcolm
“You quoted me ninety. That still right? You’re not hourly?”
My last client of the day eyes my mower, his grey bushy eyebrows pulled together. I read his mind because I would think the same thing too. Hell, I’m thinking it right now. Only an idiot or a masochist will mow over an acre with just a push mower.
“Yep, that’s still the price,” I say while I reapply suntan lotion.
“Gonna be night by the time you’re done, son.”
He shakes his head and goes back inside his house. I take the lotion back to my truck and toss it onto the backseat, then return to my mower.
Yeah, with the grass at that height and the cedar trees dotted about the property, it’ll take me a while to get this one done. I knew that before I accepted the job because I like a challenge.
The human brain avoids discomfort, but completing difficult tasks are the best things for personal growth and satisfaction. Before I joined the army, I drifted through life, mediocre and fucking miserable. I never want to go back to that version of myself.
While the extra money is nice, I got into this side hustle to fill time. My weekday carpentry job leaves me restless on the weekends, so I started picking up some landscaping gigs. I like it. It’s hard work that keeps my body moving but relaxes my mind.
The sky is pinkish-blue by the time I’m heaving my mower and tools back into my truck bed.
My shirt is damp with sweat, a dull ache in my arms and legs.
I take out my phone and open the camera app.
I recently found out clients are more likely to tip if I send a picture of the finished work with the invoice.
Email sent, I shove my phone into my pocket, then survey my handiwork. The even spread of cut grass and neatly trimmed edges around the house fills me with pride. I’ve been saving up for this kind of property. It’s the perfect size for the family I’m planning to have.
I’m going to buy a house like this, find a good woman and put her inside it, then I’ll put my babies inside her. It doesn’t really matter in what order I meet my goals, as long as I get them done. Although, I guess I have to find the good woman first for the baby-making to happen.
My mind drifts to June and my good mood is ruined. What the fuck is wrong with me? Right after thinking about making babies with a good woman, the first woman that pops into my head is one who’s like a niece to me. What’s worse, it’s not the first time I had inappropriate thoughts about her today.
I’ve been in trouble ever since she showed up yesterday. I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at her during dinner last night, drinking in her beauty in three second moments before I looked away.
Ten years ago, I left behind a girl who played with dolls and who wore colourful beads at the ends of her hair. That girl grew up into a gorgeous young woman whose smile is like the sunshine I’ve been missing while living years in darkness.
I went to bed last night hoping distance and sleep would stop this ridiculous crush from fully setting in. It didn’t. As soon as I saw June step out of Daphne’s room this morning, I couldn’t focus on anything else but her. Which is why I ran right into her.
I want you to come.
Five innocent words that sounded so goddamn filthy in her sweet voice. Especially while I was still thinking about the way her hard nipples poked through her top, begging for a suck.
Just like this morning, disgust washes over me. Stop thinking about her. I focus intently on the yard until the green expanse resets my mind, then turn and stride to my truck. I climb in and consider my plans for the rest of the evening.
It would be nice to enjoy having the house to myself for once, but maybe I should go to Daphne’s engagement party. I haven’t had sex in so long, I barely remember the who, when, and where.
Now my mind is in the gutter, my morals not far behind. If I go to the party, I could meet someone, get laid, and my perverse feelings for my best friend’s daughter will go away.
I glance at the time on my dashboard. It’s almost seven. The mall should still be open. After sweating all day, I definitely smell like I need a shower. No respectable sales associate will allow me to try on anything. I’ll have to take whatever that looks about my size and hope it fits.
* * *
I turn into Paul’s driveway just as he’s backing out his black SUV. Paul brakes and I pull up beside him.
Nate’s in the passenger seat playing a handheld game. June’s alone in the backseat. No sign of Nicole or Daphne. My gaze lingers on June, then I snap it to Paul as he leans over to speak through the passenger window.
“You coming to the party, Mal?” When I say yes, he nods. “OK. I’ll wait so we can carpool.”
If I agree, I’ll have to ride in the backseat with June. I glance at her again and she smiles at me. Dark hunger stirs in my gut. Nope. Definitely not a good idea to be physically close to her right now.
I wave my hand. “Nah, you guys go on ahead. I might be a while. Don’t want to keep you waiting.”
Paul nods and resumes backing out of the driveway. I shut off my truck and head into the house, straight for the shower.
As I’m getting ready, I pay closer attention to the guest room. The best way to describe it is muted. All the furniture is light beige wood, and three framed black and white pictures hang on the mint green walls.
One of a monarch butterfly clinging to a flower, the second is a shot of a bicycle leaning against a railing on a cobblestone street, and the third an overused inspirational quote in tall thin letters: WHEN ONE DOOR CLOSES, ANOTHER OPENS.
Nicole told me this used to be June’s room, but there’s none of her personality here. The girl I remember sang along to Selena Gomez songs and loved bright colours in everything. The latter the reason why I nicknamed her Jujube.
I stand in front of the mirror, dressed and ready to leave. I imagine myself as one of the guys in my unit as I deliver orders.
Bowen, you’re going to keep your eyes on the fucking prize at that party.
You’re going to find an available and appropriate woman and flirt your fucking ass off.
You’re going to take her somewhere and fuck her brains out, and yours too.
Then you can stop thinking about shit you shouldn’t be thinking about.
“Yes, sir,” I say to the mirror.
A solid plan of attack in mind, I shove my keys into my pocket and head downstairs with confidence. But I come to a dead stop when I find June perched on one of the armchairs in the living room.
“I told your dad he didn’t have to wait,” I say.
“He didn’t. I stayed back because I wasn’t sure you knew where the party was being held.”
Damn, she’s right. I would’ve gotten into my truck and realized I didn’t know where I was supposed to go.
I smile. “Good instinct. I would’ve texted Paul for the location, though.”
“Well, I also wanted to hang out with you some more before I head back to Toronto tomorrow.”
You wouldn’t if you knew the things I’ve thought about you.
She stands and comes closer, a shy smile on her lips.
“You look nice. The suit fits you.”
“It’s a bit tight around my shoulders.” And it’s getting tight in my pants too as I’m looking at her. “You’re the one who looks nice, Jujube. You’re beautiful.”
That’s an understatement. She looks fucking amazing in her peach dress. My gaze lingers on the tantalizing glimpse of the tops of her breasts, then slides lower.
The material hugs her waist and flares out into a ruffled skirt. She’s wearing open-toed black heels, and I suddenly have an intense urge to suck on her pretty little red-painted toes. After that, I would kiss and lick my way up her smooth, flawless legs to the golden prize between them.
I drag my gaze up June’s perfect body to her beautiful face, that dark hunger inside me growing stronger the more I inhale her sweet scent. Tension hangs between us, the silence and our solitude more noticeable with each passing second.
There’s no denying it now.
I want her.
She’s only a few feet away. It would be so easy to pull her close and kiss her.
Lift her against the wall and slide into her.
Bend her over the armchair she was sitting on and pound her.
Drag her down to the carpet and make her cry uncle.
Though I won’t stop until she’s breathless and about to pass out from all the times I’ve made her come.
I clench my hands at my sides, steeped in self-loathing as the myriad ways I can fuck my best friend’s daughter in his living room assault my mind. Maybe June senses my wrong feelings because she drops her gaze and turns away.
“We should leave now or we’ll be pretty late for the party.”
Thank fuck.
An escape from temptation.