12. Bex
TWELVE
Bex
T he smell of chai fills the air. Closing my eyes, I take a giant whiff of my drink. I’d treated myself to a latte on the way home after spending the morning with Mrs. Rosenblatt. Who knew one woman would have so much trouble trying to pick out a new color of carpet for her apartment?
The week has been surprisingly productive. Since Austin’s sudden “come to Jesus” moment (a term that my new friend, Eric the landscaper, taught me), life has been so much easier. The song “Lovely Day” is stuck on repeat in my head simply because it fits.
Even Pearl, whose kitchen had caught on fire a few weeks ago and was still seething over Austin’s lack of help, was beginning to thaw. The first time I met her, she’d let me know for several minutes how disappointed she was with him, making sure I was aware that she could have moved anywhere else in town but wanted to live in her particular apartment because the Porter boys always seemed so kind. But Austin’s actions had upset her to no end.
Fast forward to today. I dropped by to touch base and make sure she’s ready for her new oven and stove to be put in next week, and she’s waiting with a bouquet of flowers to thank me for having Austin call her. Apparently, their conversation had been a good one.
Do I pat myself on the back? Maybe a little. Can’t lie, it makes me happy to hear he’s showing up. Like he owes me anything, which he doesn’t, but the fact he’s doing it for himself and the flow-on means his family is happy, well, that makes me happy.
The sound of an engine idling nearby lets me know that Jared’s here. I peek out the window and find Aladdin tip-toeing up to the mailboxes. He hangs out for a moment, most likely just doing his job, but then his head snaps up and he looks over my way suddenly. Busted.
My hand lifts in the air on its own, like it has a string attached to it and there’s a puppeteer somewhere making it move. Aladdin/Jared waves back, then does a leap in the air before he skips back to his car and takes off.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this. Part of me hopes I never do.
Smiling, I grab my notepad off the counter and look over my to-do list. I’m ticking my way through it. I’ve spoken to the tenants I need to, organized workmen, and emailed a list of what’s happening to both Austin and Levi, plus I managed to get my own HVAC unit sorted out. That will go in next week, too.
There’s only one name left on my list: Eric the landscaper. I drag my eyes toward the window, looking out at the hedge beyond. What am I going to do? On one hand, I have every right to do what I want. On the other hand, I have a neighbor I’m getting along with now. A neighbor who is my boss. I’d prefer not to rock the boat if I can help it.
But Eric is coming back over this week and he wants to know…will it stay or will it go?
I peer across to Austin’s house and see the red truck parked in the drive, along with a Toyota Tercel that appears every few days. I hate bothering anyone when they have company, but I need to deal with this and see if we can find some kind of compromise in the hedge.
Opening the door, I’m greeted by Harley, who pushes her way past me and saunters into the living room, plopping down on the floor near the fireplace.
“Come on in, why don’t you?” I say with a laugh, shaking my head as I close the door behind me and head across the field. I’ve not left Harley alone in there before, but something tells me she’ll be fine.
In no time I’m in front of Austin’s door, knocking away. I’m a little surprised when a pretty blonde with perfect makeup, in perfect shape, and wearing her hair pulled up into a cute little bun on top of her head opens the door.
“Can I help you?” she asks, perkiness dancing on each word.
I start to open my mouth, but I’m interrupted.
“Hey, Bex,” Austin says. I peek over her shoulder and find him standing in the hallway behind her grinning. He looks at the blonde. “Amy, this is Bex, my neighbor and also a colleague of mine. Bex, meet Amy. She’s my house cleaner.”
Amy grimaces slightly at the introduction, and I find myself admiring her makeup—which also makes me question how many house cleaners out there put on full makeup glam, as if they were getting ready to debut on a television show, to go to work? Granted, there are some who will, and good for them, but add in the perfectly pressed white shirt and the linen pants she’s wearing and I’m beginning to doubt this woman is really a cleaner of any kind.
“Nice to meet you,” I say as I step inside the doorway and angle past. I point to Austin. “I’m here to see that guy.”
“Hmmm.” She grunts, narrowing her eyes as she steps out of the way.
Austin, who has been watching Amy, slides his gaze over to me. “What’s up?”
“Should I have texted?” I tease.
“No, I think we’re past that, don’t you?” he says with a grin. “I’m in here putting a bookshelf together. Come on, you can read the instructions to me while we talk.”
“Sure.”
I follow him down the hall and to a back room. It’s empty except for various pieces of an Ikea bookshelf that are scattered here and there, with a piece of paper left sitting on top of the pile.
“So.” I point to the mess on the floor. “This is our project?”
“Project is a loose term here. Gives more credit than I should get,” he says. “I’m not good at Ikea anything. I ordered it and thought it would come already put together.”
“Aren’t you cute?” I tease, shaking my head as I hold my hand out. “I’m an Ikea pro. Hand me the Allen wrench and the paper, I’ll have this baby put together in less than ten minutes.”
He looks at me with wide eyes. “No way.”
“Way.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. “I bet you dinner that you can’t do it in ten.”
“I love a challenge,” I say as I crack my knuckles. “Accepted.”
Taking the paper from his hand, I wait for him to give me the signal that the time is starting before I dive in. I was serious when I said I’m a pro at this; I used to live ten minutes away from an Ikea in LA, and for the first twelve years of my life there, I was a weekly regular at that store. I loved walking it and seeing new things, sitting on the uncomfortable couches, and randomly having some Swedish meatballs.
I can tell by Austin’s stance that he doubts me. It’s fine. I’m used to people doubting me; it makes the look on their face when I win that much sweeter. And I’m not going to tell him that not only did I have this exact bookcase in my old place, but I also put two together for Spencer, so I know what I’m doing.
With two minutes left on the clock, I toss the wrench to the ground and clap my hands as I stand up.
“Time!” I scream as Austin laughs.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” He cracks up and shows me my time. “A little over eight minutes. You’re a mad genius.”
I swat at him, but he puts his hand up as if he’s about to stop me only to grab my arm, and we freeze. There’s a moment where I could awkwardly pull away and change the subject, but there’s another moment here. The one where I stay my ground and keep my eyes on his, and instead of stepping away, I do the opposite—I step toward him.
He drags his eyes slowly to my lips, heat flooding my body as he does. I don’t know where my head’s at, but I’m suddenly overly conscious of them—do they look smooth? I can get the worst chapped lips. It would be a crying shame if today was the day they start peeling. Also, gross, but just…not now.
I do a quick check and am pleased to report they feel fine. Smooth. In the process, though, I run them together slowly, forgetting that he is looking directly at them.
Now my overthinking comes into play. Does he think I’m rubbing my lips together for him? Does he want me to be? Maybe he thinks I’m being too forward, but I’m not—I was just making sure my lips at least look nice. No one wants to have a view of crusty lips, right?
“Hey,” Austin whispers, his hand still wrapped around my forearm as he steps closer. “You look like you just spun out into a million different places. You okay?”
“Yeah,” I begin to say, but then I stumble over my words. “Or no. Maybe. Yes. Maybe. I am maybe okay. Definitely, maybe.”
Austin lifts an eyebrow. “Definitely, maybe okay?”
“That’s it,” I say, taking a step closer to him. I can smell his aftershave. Spicy. Warm and invigorating, with notes of clove, cinnamon, and maybe a hint of pepper.
It’s masculine and makes something inside of me ignite. I drag my eyes back to his again, making sure he’s watching me, only this time when I glide my tongue across my bottom lip, I do it because I want to. Because I know he’s watching, and I want him to see.
I watch as Austin’s eyes suddenly change, their reflection dulling slightly. As my mind goes into overdrive once more, I feel the power in his grasp as he wraps an arm around my waist, taking me by total surprise.
“I’m going to do something right now, but I need you to trust me, okay?” he says, pressing his lips near my ear as he angles me closer to his body. Honestly, I really don’t care what he says as long as he keeps me this tightly against him. Why is it such a turn-on to have a man with arms like his, strong and solid, pulling me tightly against him?
I’m doing everything in my power to not climb him like a tree, but we’ll keep that to ourselves for right now, shall we?
I don’t respond to his words, instead letting my body go limp, giving him silent permission to do whatever he needs. I’m relieved that I listened to my gut. It’s as if the air has been pulled from the room as he slides his hands gently but decisively across my shoulders, his touch sending shivers down my spine. His fingers trail down my arms, brushing against my skin with a warmth that contrasts with the coolness of the room.
He cups my face with both hands, his thumbs lightly caressing my cheekbones, and tilts my head as his mouth slants across mine. The kiss is slow and deliberate, a tender dance of lips that deepens, a hunger there I hadn’t anticipated. His touch is both electrifying and soothing, as if he’s pulling me into a space where nothing else matters.
When he finally pulls away, I’m left reeling, my senses overwhelmed by the new rush of emotions. I’m so lost in this whirlwind of feeling that I don’t immediately notice Amy standing in the doorway.
“Sorry,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just wanted to let you know I was leaving, Austin…er, Mr. Porter.”
“All good, Amy,” he mutters, his voice a little gravelly as he steps away from me. “Thanks and see you in the next few days?”
She looks at Austin, then to me, then back to Austin again. “No, my schedule changed recently, so I’ll be coming in every Wednesday only from now on.”
“Just one day a week, then?” Austin double-checks as she nods. There’s a look on her face when she looks at him, though, that makes me realize what that kiss was for. He wasn’t kissing me to kiss me , he was kissing me to get Amy to leave him alone. Or at least that’s my best guesstimate.
Amy’s gone a few moments later, leaving us alone with that kiss hanging in the air between us. As soon as I hear her car pulling away, I place a hand on my hip and point a finger.
“You did that on purpose.”
The grin he serves me is a wicked one. “But it was fun, right?”
“Yes. No. Yes.” I shake my arms in the air. “Argh! Not the point, Austin. You used me as a make-out red herring so Amy would think you have a girlfriend. Am I right?”
“Yes, but there’s a reason,” Austin explains, his expression sheepish. “She’s got a crush and at first it was cute. Unassuming. I thought nothing of it, but she’s gotten worse recently and has been really over the top with showing up when she’s not scheduled. She brings me things, like dinner, when she’s ‘passing by’ but come on. We live in the country. You don’t just swing by when you’re coming here.”
He has a point. “Go on,” I encourage him.
“She’s only supposed to come one day a week, but she shows up at least twice a week. Does it under the guise of ‘someone needs to check on you.’”
“You didn’t think telling her the truth was better?”
He hangs his head. “Now I do.”
I look around the room, at the now-finished bookcase. The smell of freshly dusted furniture and cedarwood fills the air. Looking back over at Austin, I find him staring at me with this sexy smile draped across his beautiful, full, bright red lips. Those lips were on mine mere moments ago and I want that warmth back.
I want to be irked that he used me to get Amy’s attention, but when he’s trying to ward off unwanted advances, how mad can I really be?
“You need to start drawing better boundaries, Austin.” I point out the window in the direction of the lane. “You can begin by letting Amy know you aren’t interested and then let her go.”
“Are you wanting me to let her go because you’re jealous?” He winks as he takes a step.
“No.” I hold my hand out to stop him. “I think you need to nip it in the bud so no one is hurt.”
“She’s the one with the crush,” he starts to whine, and I roll my eyes.
“Be the bigger person, okay?”
He takes another step. If I was to put my hand out now, my fingers would rest on his chest. His firm, tight, strong chest. The thought of letting my fingertips glide slowly across his bare chest sends a thrill through my system. I’m still in that daydream when he takes the last step, his body slamming into mine as he puts his arms around my waist again, and pulls me close.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this, Austin. It’s not like I’m going to let you kiss me again,” I whisper, not trusting my own words.
Hooded eyes meet mine, his hand slowly rising to cup the side of my face, then delicately stroking my cheek as his fingertips dance along my jawline. Shivers dance across my flesh and I fight back an audible groan.
“That’s fine,” he whispers, too. “How about I just do this?”
He leans in, his breath warm against my ear, sending a cascade of chills down my spine. His lips hover just above my skin, close enough to feel the heat of his breath, but not quite touching. He trails the ghost of a kiss along the curve of my neck, his mouth so close that every nerve in my body is on fire with anticipation.
His hand, still cradling my face, moves with agonizing slowness, the pad of his thumb brushing over my bottom lip, leaving me trembling under his touch. He’s toying with me, pushing me to the edge without giving me what I want, what I need.
Until I can’t stand it any longer—and that time is now.
Not even thinking—and not wanting to anymore, if I’m being honest—I let my hands fly up and land on top of his, stopping them cold. I slam my eyes into his as I put one hand on either side of his face and pull him closer.
He wants a kiss? I’ll give him one he’ll never forget.