Chapter 8 Shannon
Shannon
Breathe in, breathe out.
“Motherfucking.”
Breathe in, breathe out.
“Shitbag.”
Breathe in, breathe out.
“Tosser.”
Oops. Maybe a little too loud there, Shannon.
It’s official. Wesley Fucking Parker is an arsehole with the personality of a Tasmanian devil.
He doesn’t want me here? Well, tough shit, because this girl doesn’t shy away from conflict.
You want to battle it out? I’ll be ready for you.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Just when I wiped the earlier fantasy out of my mind, he turns up on my porch still dressed in those dirty jeans, slung low on his hips, and that stupid thin T-shirt, he just had to lift to wipe his face, giving me an unfiltered view of tattoos, a six-pack, and just the right amount of chest hair.
There must be some higher power out to mess with my life, sticking me next door to Mr Thick Thighs Wesley Parker. God, this is going to be hard.
Despite what happened, there’s no escaping that the man is a tease. Born to make my life a living hell just by existing.
The way he looks... Jesus. Unruly dark hair, dusted with flecks of grey and those tattoos winding over his body like an ivy, the man is a walking temptation. It’s a slippery slope.
And those eyes, ones that don’t just look at you, but strip you, piece by piece, until you’re begging for more.
And of course, my traitorous body betrays me, internally screaming, ‘Take me now, Mr Parker’.
I should have worn a padded bra. No, I should have kept my bra on, period.
Then I wouldn’t have caught him licking those deliciously full lips while checking out my nipples, standing at full attention like two flashing headlights, screaming Squeeze me, Sir.
I also noticed... he blushed when I caught him in the act. Didn’t stop him looking though, or the way he tried to hide the evidence of his satisfaction behind his denim.
I tell myself it’s okay to be standing here staring at his house from my living room window.
It’s not like I’m spying on him; it’s not my fault the man doesn’t believe in closing his curtains, giving me a panoramic view of his home.
How am I supposed to look away? I’m a woman, and despite what other women say, we are naturally born curious curtain twitchers.
“Note to self, buy bedroom curtains.” I don’t think I’m ready to give Wesley a free sneak preview of my nakedness. I pull my eyes away from his house, his muddy truck sitting there with ‘Parker Construction’ plastered across the side. Original. I should have known.
He must have fitted the kitchen and bathroom, unlike the rest of the house. Those two rooms are modern, sleek, and I hate to admit it, but I would have chosen the exact same design. The man certainly has taste.
His big hands have worked on my house.
The bathroom is small but has a bath and a separate shower, fitted with a rainfall showerhead.
The kitchen has smooth white and grey fleck granite worktops, with dark blue shaker-style units, and a small oval island with a chrome hob and cooker.
But the Belfast sink has to be my favourite feature.
I know I’m going to love baking in this kitchen.
All I need to do now is sand the floors and add some nice thick rugs. My little part-time job selling insurance from home will pay my bills, but nothing else. I need a second income to help move things forward.
My phone rings from the bedroom where I left it. Talia is supposed to be calling me.
Rushing in, I grab it before the call ends.
“Hey?” I huff out.
“Why do you sound out of breath?” she asks.
“Because you made me run.” Not an exercise I usually participate in unless it's running a bath.
“I can hardly hear you… stand still,” she snaps.
“I am standing still. The signal is shit here.”
“You need to get a phone line in,” she states the obvious.
“I know. I’m trying to decide which room to work from.”
“Should I come over with a bottle of wine? We could stay there tonight?” I look around at the empty house. It would be like camping out. Dad dropped me off, and he was going to get Mum to pick me up when I was ready.
“I don’t have any furniture here yet.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll bring a couple of sleeping bags and an air bed.” I’m already liking the idea of wine and my best friend, my first non-official sleepover in my new home.
“You know what? Let’s do it.”
“That’s my girl! Text me a list of what you need, and I’ll be there soon.” I hang up and send Talia a huge list of food and wine-related goodies to bring. Then text Mum and tell her mine and Talia’s plan.
A huge smile spreads across my face as I spin in a circle, taking in the view of my new home.
Grabbing my notepad from the kitchen, I head back into the bedroom and measure up the windows for my new curtains. I’ve always loved pastel colours; they tie in perfectly with the outdoors. It truly is beautiful out here.
I press my face against the window, already picturing filled flower boxes decorating the window ledges. They’d add a bit more colour to the outside, giving off the perfect cottage core charm.
It’s a little too dark outside to see much.
Only it’s still light enough to see him… Wesley.
And wait… my brain cuts out, like a clamped-out old car.
Jesus… is he naked?
I flatten my face to the window glass, not caring if my nose and lips are going to leave a mark, like I’ve been practicing the perfect kiss on a mirror.
The man is a mere thirteen feet away. I wouldn’t need a pair of glasses to see him in all his glory.
Holding my breath, I watch as the bastard strides from room to room, my eyes like a pinball shooting in all directions.
His towel hanging low on his slender hips, any sudden movement and it would fall to the floor.
“What planet did you come from, Mr Parker? Are they all made like you?”
Fuck my life, he’s hot…
Nooo, Shannon, you absolute tart, do not think of him. In fact, walk away, ignore his glorious body and his messy wet hair.
He turns his back to me, completely unaware I’m eating up his whole presence, my eyes devouring every hard sculpted slope of his back muscles straining with every movement, his tattoos rippling across his shoulders, slightly faded under bronzed skin.
He clearly works outside most of the time… shirtless no doubt.
You, Mr Parker, are a bloody tease. I waggle my finger.
“Jesus, he’s big,” I tell my nearest wall. Wishing I had a pet to talk to, maybe I can get a bird or something.
I’m about to turn around and walk away, but a flutter of movement stops me dead in my tracks. The towel slips from his slender hips, falling in slow motion, drifting to the floor like a feather caught in the breeze.
Heat rushes to my cheeks as my eyes follow the movement, then, shamelessly, work their way back up, tracing the globes of his arse, outlining every inch of golden skin in agonisingly slow motion.
I stare at his naked body, biting my lip, my mind spinning with one thought.
Role reversal.
“Naughty Wesley.” My imagination conjures up a vision of me slapping his firm arse.
God, I’m such a voyeur.
Before I can even think to look away, he does it.
He turns.
Full frontal.
And gulp.
Our eyes lock, shock etched across his face.
My mouth falls open, chin dragging on the floor.
I want to tell him there is no use even trying to attempt to cover that thing. The man’s hung. I tilt my head before I can stop myself, my thighs squeezing together, maybe he’s a little semi-excited.
Stop it… Stop staring. Jesus.
His hands fly down, scrambling to cover himself.
But I can’t pull my eyes away.
And he’s not exactly making a quick getaway either.
Even with my mouth dragging on the floor… and maybe a little drool.
“Shannon?”
My name echoes through my empty home.
Before the bedroom door flies open.
“What are you do…”
I whip around, two little pink splodges on my cheeks. “Talia?” I say, slightly breathless. Her hands clamp over her mouth as if she’s just walked into the scene of a crime.
“Did I just see a… cock?” Talia’s voice muffled behind her hands.
I turn to face the window, hands grasping for curtains that aren’t bloody there, only to realise he’s no longer standing there.
“Fucking hell.” I dart towards Talia, practically shoving her out of the bedroom.
“Stop looking at him!” I gasp, and there’s definitely a hint of jealousy in my voice. If anyone is going to be looking at him, it’s me.
We stand out in the hallway, eyes locked, before we collapse into hysterical laughter.
“Shannon, care to tell me who he was?” she asks while swiping the tears from under her eyes.
I roll my eyes because she already knew who he was.
“You know who it was,” I bite out.
“How could I possibly know? My eyes zoomed in on one thing.” I give her a sheepish look.
“Who was he?” She tries to look over my shoulder.
Letting out a breath, I whisper, “Wesley Fucking Parker.” Her jaw drops.
“Nooo way.” She clutches her chest like she’s been given the guilty verdict.
My first shock of the day, and I still haven’t told her about the job interview with him.
“I think I need to sit down.” She scans the empty room, then points a finger in the air.
“I’ve got a car full of stuff, and the folding festival chairs.” She walks towards the front door, and I know I have some explaining to do.
By the time Talia and I finish up, having decided the smaller room should be my new office, we’re both more than ready for a drink. Her more than me, especially after I told her about my labourer’s interview for the building firm, and Wesley is the owner.
We drag the chairs outside and settle on the porch, under the glow of the outside light, safely out of sight from my infuriatingly hot neighbour’s windows.
Talia unscrews the first bottle of wine, because we’re too cheap to buy corked. We nearly opted for park bench style drinking but luckily, she remembered to bring a couple of plastic beakers.
“I’m jealous of this view,” Talia says, waving a hand around.
“Which one?” I smirk, casually pointing towards my neighbour’s house.