Olivia
Idrag the hose across the front yard, working my way along the flower bed beneath the porch railing.
The petunias need water and the marigolds droop in the late afternoon heat.
Ethan left about an hour ago for a sleepover at his friend Marcus's house.
He packed a bag with snacks and clothes and practically launched himself out of the car when I pulled into the driveway.
The house feels quiet without him, but it's a good quiet tonight.
I'm kneeling beside the marigolds when I hear a car slow on the street.
When I look up, I see Derek's silver truck pulling to the curb in front of my house.
I don't mean to, but I bristle at the sight.
He's not supposed to be here. This isn't his weekend, and there's no pickup scheduled.
There's no good reason for him to show up unless it's to harass me again or to make more ridiculous demands.
He gets out and walks across the lawn toward me, hands in his pockets, and I rise to my feet. The scowl on his face is normal, but the anger in his eyes isn't. Normally, he's more controlled than this, like he boxes the monster in so no one can see it, but I always know it's there.
"We need to talk about the Fourth," he says, stopping a few feet from me.
I brush the dirt off my knees, keeping the hose in my hand.
"What about it?" Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement at Caleb's house and know he's probably watching the interaction, but I don't wave him over just yet.
I don't want Derek to think I need Caleb to defend me.
This is between me and him and no one else.
"I want Ethan for the whole weekend. Thursday through Sunday. My parents rented a house on the lake and they want him there for the fireworks." His lips press into a line before he says, "And after you ruined the little vacation last month, I figure you could just give me this one."
"But that's my weekend, Derek." I crimp the hose to not waste water and hold his gaze.
"We have the block party on Saturday, and Ethan's been looking forward to it for weeks.
He already told all of his friends he'd be there.
" Not to mention he got Memorial Day weekend, so this one is mine.
That's the court order, and he, of all people, should understand that if I put my foot down, I'm just sticking to what's been laid out.
"The block party isn't a priority. My parents are a priority, and they don't get enough time with their grandson." He takes his hands out of his pockets and folds his arms across his chest. "I'm not asking, Olivia. I'm telling you what's going to happen."
I scoff but I catch myself, schooling my anger under a fake smile.
"And I'm telling you it's my weekend and the answer is no.
" I have trained myself to stay calm in the midst of his tantrums, and I'm not going to let him rile me up this time.
"You can take him to the lake another time.
We can plan something for later in July after the hearing. "
"After the hearing?" he hisses angrily. "You mean after your boyfriend's little investigation blows up in your face and the judge sees what I've been dealing with for three years.
" The hostility coming out of him is scary.
He's never laid a hand on me before, but I know about that girl in college.
He got it buried, but I saw the court filings when we first met.
I know this man isn't beneath smacking a woman if he loses control.
I glance at Caleb's house and see him standing near his garage staring, wiping his hands on a shop rag. But I turn back to Derek without drawing attention to him.
"Caleb isn't my boyfriend, and this conversation is over." I walk over to the spigot and turn off the hose then start winding it up. "You can call my lawyer if you want to discuss the schedule. That's what lawyers are for."
Derek follows me like a shadow, talking too loudly. Everyone on this street can probably hear him. "You're making a mistake. You think that guy next door's going to save you, but he's the reason you're in this mess in the first place. I hired him, Olivia. I put him there, and—"
"I'm not doing this with you in my front yard." I set the coiled hose on grass near the spigot and face him, crossing my arms. "You need to leave." My arms instinctively cross over my chest, but I see Caleb coming and feel relief.
"Or what? You'll call your tattooed guard dog to come chase me off?" He snarls like the angry beast he is, and Caleb's voice interrupts.
"This isn't the time or place, Derek, and you need to leave." I turn to see Caleb walking across the strip of grass between our yards. He stops a few feet from Derek, but I can tell he's barely restraining himself.
Derek glares at him, though I watch him size Caleb up. If Caleb's biceps were half the size, I imagine Derek would be taking the first swing to put an end to the standoff, but as it is, Derek is a coward. He knows he'd get his ass handed to him and he backs down.
"You two deserve each other," he snarls, loading every word with as much contempt as he can fit into his tone. Then he turns and stomps back to his truck, squealing his tires as he pulls away.
It feels like the energy has just been sucked out of me, and my legs feel wobbly as I turn and lean into Caleb's chest, grateful once again that he's here.
"Back porch?" he asks after a minute.
"Yeah, okay," I mumble, and I follow him around the side of the house and through the gate.
I'm glad Ethan is at a friend's house tonight.
I'd hate for him to have had to witness that.
Derek seems to be getting worse and worse, and one of these days, his son will eventually see who the man is.
I just hope it doesn't crush his little heart when he sees it.
"You want a beer?" Caleb asks, but I don't think drinking is a good idea tonight. I don't want to break down into a puddle of weepy emotions.
"Nah," I grumble, sinking into the cushions of the bench seating.
"Foot rub?" he asks, and I smile softly.
"That would be amazing." Caleb sits at the other end of the bench and peels my shoes and socks off, then with his callused, muscular hands, he begins working on my feet, kneading the muscles until I'm relaxing and trying to forget what just happened.
Instead of talking about Derek yet again, he offers a good topic for discussion. "You're planning to attend the block party?"
His hair is getting a little long now, probably for the first time in years after being in the service with his high and tight. And the stubble on his jaw is attractive too, especially when he looks at me like that.
"I'd just as soon skip it all, you know, with neighborhood gossip.
But Ethan really wants to be a part of it.
Everyone brings their tables out to the street to share food, and the guy down on the corner always hires a band.
Last year, Mrs. Baker's boyfriend did fireworks.
I hear he's doing that again this year and…
" I let my voice trail off, tired of trying to be super positive.
But it's Mr. Grumpy Pants who picks up where I leave off. "I bet the kids would love a slip and slide. I can buy one… And if Mick comes around, I bet he'd help with grilling. That man loves to cook."
I never pegged Caleb for the social type, but first impressions can be deceiving. "You really want to go?"
"Sure, why not? If I'm going to be a part of this community, we have to know our neighbors, right?" His hands stop working on my foot and start creeping up my calf, which feels amazing, but when he lets my foot rest over his lap, I feel him swelling.
"Oh…" I whisper, and his eyes darken as he turns his gaze on me.
"Sorry," he mutters, and I swear I see his cheeks blush.
"You really want to get to know your neighbor, don't you?" My smirk makes him blush harder, until his ears are dark red, but he grabs my ankle and grinds my foot on his groin. God, he's rock hard.
"You have no idea, Mrs. Bennett."
My heart flutters and I lean forward, trying to move closer to him, so he shifts my legs until my feet are on the ground. "How well do you want to know me?" I whisper, leaning in to kiss him.
"So well, I can read your body like a map. Will you teach me how to do that?"
His lips consume mine in a scorching kiss, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth then biting it.
I moan into him, my fingers threading through the hair at the back of his neck, tugging just enough to make him growl low in his chest. His tongue sweeps in, claiming every inch while his hands slide up my thighs, gripping so hard I gasp.
We break for air, foreheads pressed together and I'm panting. “Inside,” I whisper, and he hauls me up from the bench like I weigh nothing.
My legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he stands, carrying me backward through the sliding glass door.
The porch screen rattles shut behind us as we stumble across the living room, mouths fused again, teeth clashing in the rush.
His stubble scrapes my chin deliciously rough, and I rock against the hard ridge of his erection trapped between us.
Caleb’s shoulder bumps the wall in the hallway, knocking a picture frame crooked, but he doesn’t stop. One big hand cups my ass, the other fists my shirt, yanking it up so his palm brands bare skin at my lower back.
“Bedroom?” he rasps against my mouth, and I point blindly past his ear. He pivots, kicking the half-open door wider with his boot.
We crash through, lips never parting and in seconds my back hits the mattress edge. I tug his shirt up and off in one desperate pull, and he groans when my nails drag down his chest. Then retaliates by peeling my top away, mouth latching onto the swell of my breast above my bra.