Boss Next Door

by Beverly Evans

  Oh, I’ve tried to do what I could to shift my attention away from her. Early on, I thought spending my summers partying hard and bedding as many women as possible would do the trick. But it never did. No matter how hard I tried to not compare the others with Chloe, I found myself doing it time and time again. She’s got a hold on me I’ve never been able to break – or bring to fruition.

  No matter how hard I’ve tried, I’ve never been able to break down those walls she keeps herself surrounded by, and I’ve had to learn to accept the fact that I’m probably always going to think of her as the one who got away.

  “Come on, brother. Let’s get you down there and get your mojo back,” he interrupts my thoughts. “We have one night left in this little slice of paradise, and I sure as hell refuse to let it pass without getting you laid.”

  Roman grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet, guiding me down to the bonfire where the party is in full swing. Being the last night of summer, it actually seems like everybody’s partying even harder, doing everything they can to wring every ounce of fun out of the evening. The music is booming, cheers and laughter fill the air, competing in volume with the music, and people are coupled up all around, most of them practically screwing out there in the open. It’s not so much a party as it is an orgy that would make Caligula blush.

  I lose Roman somewhere in the crowd. No doubt, some bikini-clad hottie caught his attention and pulled him away. I don’t really care, though. I might not be sticking around too long anyway since I’ve been looking around and don’t see Chloe anywhere. I thought with this being the last party of the summer; she’d definitely be here. But for whatever reason, it’s starting to look like she opted to skip it.

  Just as I’m about to pack it in though, I see her. She’s coming in off the trail that leads from the eastern parking lot down to the shore where we all are. She’s wearing a pair of black shorts and a t-shirt, looking so simple and casual, yet somehow so perfect. That girl next door look she has is appealing in so many ways. I can’t take my eyes off of her.

  “I’ll never know what you see in her.” The voice is cold and dripping with venom.

  I turn and see Mindy Green standing there, arms folded over her chest, a sour look on her face. Her eyes aren’t on me though – she’s staring at Chloe every bit as hard as I am. Albeit for vastly different reasons.

  “I’m sure you don’t,” I respond. “I doubt you’d understand.”

  “And what in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  I watch as Chloe walks among the throng of people, smiling as she greets her friends. I lose sight of her when she steps into a cluster of women. But then she steps into my view again, and I can’t tear my eyes away from her. As she stops to talk to one of her friends, a blonde named Bailey, I think, I’m filled with the overwhelming desire to go over and talk to her. It’s our last night in town, and I know if I want to stay in touch with her, I’m going to need to grow a pair and say so.

  “What does she have that I don’t?” Mindy whines.

  Not wanting to drag this out any longer – and not wanting to cause a scene with Mindy in front of everybody – I decline to answer and simply walk away from her. She’s never going to get it, and frankly, I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain it to her.

  As I walk over, I see Bailey, or whatever her name is, lean over and whisper something in Chloe’s ear. They both giggle with their heads close together; then Bailey trots off as Chloe turns and favors me with a smile that nearly stops my heart. This summer has been like every other summer I’ve spent around her – up and down, very hot and cold. I guess maybe we’ve been a little friendlier than normal this summer, perhaps because we both know it’s the last one we’ll spend in each other’s orbits, but even still, she hasn’t let me get too close.

  There haven’t been very many women in my life who’ve been able to stop me in my tracks the way she does. And it’s not just her physical beauty – it’s everything about her. I’ve never been a man who lacks confidence. Ask anybody. I bet most of them would tell you I have an annoying and perhaps even arrogant overabundance of it – an assessment I don’t personally agree with. But hey, whatever.

  When I’m around Chloe, though, I feel – awkward. Like some goofy teenager. She’s somehow able to strip me down to my barest parts with nothing more than a glance or a softly spoken word. Around her, I feel a way I never feel around anybody, like ever – vulnerable.

  “Last day of summer,” she starts. “I can’t believe it.”

  I nod. “Yeah, tell me about it,” I respond. “So if you were planning on getting me drunk and taking advantage of me, you’re running out of time.”

  Her laughter is like crystal windchimes in a light breeze, and her smile is brighter than the moon hanging over our heads.

  “Nice try,” she teases.

  I shrug. “Can’t blame a boy for trying.”

  “I suppose not.”

  As if by some unspoken agreement, we walk away from the bonfire and head off down the sandy path that runs alongside the river. The trees press close to the riverbank, and as we round a small bend, the foliage running along the riverbank grows thicker. The music from the bonfire thankfully fades, growing slightly muffled with the distance.

  She eventually stops and turns, looking out across the river, an inscrutable expression on her face.

  “So are you headed back to the city tomorrow?” I break the silence between us.

  She tenses a bit, perhaps afraid to open up the discussion that had led to our argument back on that first day here. But I don’t want to argue with her. Not tonight.

  She shakes her head vaguely. “No, my dad has something planned for me, and I guess I won’t be staying in the city. I just don’t know what it is yet.”

  “Will you be staying up here with your grandparents then?”

  Hope flickers inside of me when I think that she’s going to be staying up here for a bit longer. I can certainly alter my schedule with my dad – he’ll give me all the time I need, I’m sure. The thought of some time with her – without all of the parties and people – is incredibly appealing.

  Chloe shakes her head. “No, I’m going to be staying with my mom until my dad is ready for me.”

  Well, shit. So much for that idea.

  “Where does your mom live?” I ask.

  She turns and gives me a sly smile. “Writing a book?”

  “Just curious.”

  “Well, it’s no Vegas, but it’s… different.”

  As we stand there facing each other, with the moonlight raining down over us, I see the sadness in her eyes. She usually does a good job of hiding it and putting on a happy face, but I can see just how much she’s dreading the path in life she’s being forced to walk down. But she’s a dutiful daughter, so no matter how much she’s not looking forward to it, she’s going to do it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about her over these years, it’s that she’ll make the best of her situation. That she’ll find some way to muddle through with her usual grace. I just hate that the cost of it will be her happiness, if not her soul.

  I also know there’s nothing I can say that’s going to deter her from doing what she feels she has to do. And she most certainly feels obligated to do her part for her family. It would be admirable if it wasn’t going to suck so hard for her. I hate to think of her living a life she despises. But there’s nothing I can do.

  The moonlight makes her milky skin glow, and her blue eyes sparkle. Her full lips glisten so invitingly, I feel my pulse quicken as I step forward. I reach out a hand and am slightly surprised when she doesn’t instinctively recoil as I brush my fingers through her soft, silky hair. Our eyes are locked together, and the weight of so many things left unsaid over so many years presses down on the both of us with a physical weight to it.

  “Why has nothing ever happened between us?” I ask.

  “Because you’re an arrogant jerk?”

&nbs
p; A mischievous grin touches her lips but then falls away quickly. I cup her chin in my hand, tilting her head back. In her eyes, I see the conflict raging. She wants to pull away from me, but there’s some small part inside of her that wants to stay right where she is.

  “I think we’re just too different, Braxton,” she says softly.

  “Different doesn’t always have to be bad.”

  “It’s not always good, though,” she explains. “You see how much we clash as it is.”

  As I keep my hand on her chin, I trail my thumb over her cheeks, reveling in the soft, smooth skin. I feel her trembling and know she’s scared, but I have nothing to say that will reassure her. Tomorrow, we’re both going our separate ways and may never see each other again. All we have is tonight.

  Leaning down, I press my lips to hers. She’s stiff and hesitant at first, but eventually, she opens her mouth to mine, and when our tongues touch, I feel like I’ve been shot through with electricity. I pull her to me, one hand around her waist as I gently tug on her hair. Chloe’s hands are on my shoulders, gripping me tightly as our kiss deepens, the passion between us that’s been building for so long finally being released.

  Slipping my hand down, I cup her ass, squeezing it, and pull her against me as I grind my stiff cock against her. Chloe’s body tenses up instantly, and she takes a staggering step back, her eyes wide, looking for all the world like she’s just come out of a trance. She looks at me, and though I can see the desire still smoldering in her eyes, I see the wariness and caution flooding in. She gives herself a little shake and gives me an apologetic smile.

  “I’m sorry,” she stammers. “I can’t – I can’t do this.”

  I step forward and take her hand, imploring her with my eyes. “Stay with me tonight, Chloe.”

  She looks tempted for just a moment, but I see the veil come down over her face, and just like that, the moment between us passes. She takes her hand out of mine and gives me a shaky smile.

  “I’m sorry, I just can’t,” she repeats and turns, going back down the riverbank the way we’d come.

  I watch her go with no small measure of regret bubbling up inside of me. I call out to her, but she keeps on going, not breaking stride.

  “Fuck,” I grumble as I run a hand through my hair.

  And as I watch her round the bend, disappearing from my sight, I know that’s probably the last time I’m going to lay eyes on her. I can’t help but feel like I lost my chance at something special. As I stand alone in the darkness with nothing but the crickets and nighttime birdsong keeping me company, I can already feel the resignation seeping into my bones – a resignation born of the knowledge that I’ll never feel the way I felt around Chloe again.

  This isn’t some childish belief or an immature view of love welling up within me. No, I’ve had plenty of different partners and experiences in my life. This isn’t a first girlfriend sort of overinflated infatuation. I know I’m likely never going to have these same feelings again because I really doubt anybody will measure up to Chloe Dixon in my eyes.

  Like I said before, I already know she’s going to be the one I always consider the one who got away.

  Chapter Four

  Braxton

  Two Years Later…

  “Mr. Voight, always a pleasure to see you.”

  I give him a nod as I step into the lobby of Piacere, an Italian restaurant that sits a couple of miles off the Strip. It’s still a busy area – you can never completely get away from the hustle and bustle of Vegas unless you head way out into the suburbs. But it’s not quite as loud or gaudy and bright as it is right on the Strip.

  I found Piacere shortly after arriving in Vegas a couple of years ago now and have been a regular ever since. It’s almost as good as the Italian food back home. Almost. New York has the best Italian food outside of Italy you’re ever going to find. But this place is a not too distant second – shockingly enough.

  “Good to see you too, Jake.”

  “Miss Gorman is already in the lounge waiting for you,” he tells me.

  I chuckle softly. “Yeah, things between Miss Gorman and I didn’t work out,” I inform him. “That’s Miss Chambers.”

  Jake gives me a sly smile. “Apologies, Mr. Voight. It’s sometimes difficult to keep up.”

  “I hope you didn’t call her Ms. Gorman to her face.”

  “Thankfully, I did not.”

  I laugh softly. I guess it must be hard for him to keep track of my dating habits, since I usually don’t stay with one woman very long. The longest relationship I’ve had is about three months. I just haven’t found somebody I want to be with longer than that.

  Of course, I knew that was going to happen. I knew when I left Hyde Park two years ago that I wasn’t going to find anybody who could hold my attention or captivate my imagination the way Chloe did. And thus far, I’ve been right. Nobody has ever measured up to her, and I doubt anyone ever will.

  But I’m not going to live the life of a hermit. I’m still young. Rich. Good looking. I still have the world by the balls, and I’m going to enjoy myself. I may never have a wife or a family, I may never have somebody I feel as strongly for as I felt for Chloe – hell, I probably won’t – but I can’t just shut myself away and stop living my life. I refuse to do that to myself. And so, I bounce from meaningless relationship to meaningless relationship, sucking every last bit of fun I can from it before moving on.

  “If you’d be so good as to follow me, Mr. Voight.”

  I follow Jake into the lounge where I see Megan sitting in a booth near the front windows, sipping on a martini. With honey blonde hair, brown eyes, and a thin, fit body, she’s a stunning woman. And in a short sundress that shows off her toned, tanned thighs and clings to her in all the right places, she’s even more so.

  I met her at a coffee house a few days ago when she literally bumped into me, spilling an iced mocha all over me. She was apologetic, of course, and we got to talking, and not long after that, we decided to have dinner. And here we are.

  “We’ll have a drink here before dinner,” I tell Jake.

  “Very good sir,” he replies, setting a small black box with a red button in the center. “Just press the button when you’re ready.”

  “Thank you, Jake.”

  He nods and turns so only I can see him, giving me a wink before he heads off toward the restaurant lobby again. I slip into the booth across from Megan and give her a smile.

  “You look amazing,” I tell her.

  “Thanks,” she beams. “So do you.”

  “Don’t worry; I’m not that attached to this shirt,” I tell her. “You can spill anything on me, guilt-free.”

  She laughs, a smile lighting up her face. “I’ll do my best to avoid making a mess of you,” she purrs, looking me up and down. “At least for now.”

  I feel a stirring in my groin and am suddenly looking forward to the end of the evening. We make small talk over drinks for a while, and although it’s fun and lively, it just lacks the depth and substance I’d like. Everything is pretty superficial. Which is fine, I suppose. It’s not like I’m looking to marry her or anything. I’m just out enjoying a nice time with a beautiful woman. I’ve got no expectations of anything more coming from this.

  “So are you ready for some dinner?” I ask. “The food here is amazing.”

  She nods. “Absolutely.”

  I press the button on the box Jake had left for us and lean back against the booth to wait. As I do, I happen to glance out the window and see a group of women passing by. They’re all smiling and laughing with one another, and when I see a familiar face, I feel absolutely thunderstruck. The blood feels like it freezes in my veins. At the same time, my heart picks up the pace. I can’t believe what – or rather who – I think I just saw. It’s not possible.

  “Hey, are you still with me?”

  Megan’s voice snaps me back to the present, and I look over at her. She turns in her seat and follows my gaze, her face tightening when she sees
what’s drawn my attention.

  “Really?” she growls. “With me sitting right here?”

  Her face darkens, and her eyes narrow as she glares at me. Megan sits back in the booth and folds her arms over her chest, her expression demanding an explanation of me.

  “It’s not what you think. I thought I saw somebody I knew,” I protest. “An old friend I haven’t seen in a couple of years.”

  She purses her lips, frowning, and when she speaks again, her voice is acidic. “Right.”

  “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong,” I explain, although I’m not entirely sure she is.

  “I should have known,” she hisses. “I asked around about you. I know what kind of reputation you have.”

  “And yet you went out with me anyway,” I point out.

  “I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt.” Her voice is ice cold. “Clearly, I was stupid to do so.”

  I know I shouldn’t be throwing gas onto this particular dumpster fire, but I can’t help it. All she sees is me checking out another woman, and I can understand why she would be upset about it. I get it. But she’s not listening to me. Although I don’t feel compelled to tell her the exact nature of the relationship, the fact that she can’t seem to accept my explanation that it’s just an old friend is starting to piss me off.

  To me, that shows a complete lack of trust from the get-go. I know I have something of a reputation in some circles, but I’ve never lied to, nor cheated on anybody. I never have, and I never would. You can give me shit about bouncing from woman to woman, but don’t ever question my honesty. But if she would rather believe rumors about me than words from my own mouth, well, that’s not worth my time either.

  “If that’s the way you feel, we should probably just call it a night then,” I state.