Cam giggled like a middle schooler as she elbowed her back. “Get your own window.” But she moved over, anyway.
“Goodness gracious! What does a guy have to do to get muscles like that?” Chris was amazing. His shoulders were broad and his waist trim. Even from this distance, she could count each muscle in his eight-pack abs. That’s right, he didn’t have a mere six-pack, this guy had eight!
“I have no idea, but whatever it is, it’s working for him,” Cam breathed in her ear over her shoulder. “You should go talk to him.”
Oakley stepped back in surprise and bumped into Cam. “What? No way.”
Cam gripped Oakley’s shoulders to keep from falling over. “Why not? He’s your neighbor. Be neighborly.”
“You are insane.” It was time to stop spying on her neighbor and get back to real life. Oakley marched over to the couch and the laundry that awaited. She was a mother, for goodness sakes. Her priority was Kaden, always her son. She didn’t have time in her life for a man. She barely had time in her life to finish the laundry. If it wasn’t for her parents being willing to help her out with childcare, she wouldn’t even be making it on her own. She had enough problems without adding a relationship. Especially with someone as attractive as the guy next door. The man probably had women falling all over to date him. He wouldn’t be interested in a near poverty stricken, divorcee with a three-year-old, even if that three-year-old was adorable.
“I know, take him something cold to drink.” Cam kept talking as though Oakley hadn’t said a word. “Just look at him sweating out there. He’s got to be thirsty.”
Just thinking about going over and talking to Chris made Oakley want to throw up. She shook her head. “I am not doing that.”
From the corner of her eye, Oakley could see Cam straighten her shoulders. “Oh, yes, you are.”
Oakley set the shirt she’d folded in half in her lap. “Cam, there is no way on this green earth I’m going over to talk to that guy. Have you forgotten? Toilet paper? Son screaming at me to wipe his butt? There is no way I’m doing that.” With the matter settled, she went back to folding Kaden’s little shirts. Only they weren’t quite so little anymore. Her son was growing. It was depressing. Oakley had always assumed she’d have a houseful of babies, but not anymore. Not since the divorce. Now, she was just grateful for the child she had and planned to enjoy every single moment of being his mom.
With slow, deliberate steps, Cam approached her. “Do you remember sixth grade? That time you had a crush on Toby Watkins and refused to tell him even when it was obvious he liked you back?”
Oh, no.
“Cam, you wouldn’t. I don’t even know Chris, how could I like him?” Cold fear held her paralyzed in its grasp. Cam could be unpredictable. She didn’t have a single inhibited bone in her body. She wasn’t intimidated by anyone. Toby Watkins hadn’t been the first, or last, time Cam bulldozed Oakley into being brave, where brave was code for nutso.
Cam pointed a finger at her best friend. “You do like him or you wouldn’t have been embarrassed the other day.”
“Anyone would have been embarrassed under those circumstances. It was like getting caught with your skirt tucked into your underwear by the star quarterback.”
Cam’s eyes got misty. “Ooh, Derek Hildebrand. He was gorgeous.”
Oh, good. Maybe Cam would get distracted thinking about her high school crush and let Oakley off the hook about her neighbor.
But then Cam snapped out of her trance, her eyes focusing with laser-like precision on Oakley. “Fine. Don’t go over there and offer that hot, sweating, hunk of gorgeousness a cool glass of water. But if you don’t, I’ll be forced to do it myself. And you know me. If I do that, I’ll probably get to talking. And once I start talking, you never know quite what’s going to come out of my mouth. I just might let it slip how lonely and single you are over here all by yourself with your little boy. And how long it’s been since you’ve had a good man in your life and wouldn’t he just like to ask you out on a date and-”
“Fine!” Oakley shouted. “Fine. I’ll do it. But you,” she pointed firmly at Cam. “You stay here. Out of sight. And definitely out of earshot.” Oakley narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Meaning he can’t hear you. Ever.”
Cam clapped her hands. “Yes. Absolutely. I will stay right here and watch through the window.” She threw her head back and laughed. “This is going to be epic!”
Oakley shook her head. “No, it’s not. I’m going to take him a glass of water and that’s it. You’ll see how incredibly boring I can be and maybe next time you won’t blackmail me into making a fool of myself.” Moments like these made it difficult to remember why Oakley was friends with Cam in the first place.
Oh, why did she invite her friend over? It was her first day off in almost a week. She should have cleaned her house in peace instead of calling Cam to keep her company. But the two women hadn’t spent any time together in a while and after today, it would be some time before Oakley had another day off that would work with Cam’s schedule for them to hang out.
If she’d known this was going to happen, she would have been happy avoiding her friend for the next eternity.
Knowing Cam would never let her off the hook, Oakley marched into the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator door.
“What are you going to take over there? Water? How about a soda?” Cam hovered over her shoulder, peering into the nearly empty fridge.
Grocery shopping. She could be grocery shopping rather than doing this. “Soda? You’ve seen that guy. There’s no way he drinks his calories.”
“Hmm. You’re probably right. Don’t you have any sports drinks? I thought Kaden loved those things.”
“He does. That’s why I don’t have any.” Plus, they were expensive. So, her options of beverages to offer a thirsty man were limited to ice water, milk, or juice in a silver pouch with a straw.
Cam sighed. “Water it is, then.”
Oakley rolled her eyes. “Next time you plan to blackmail me, you can bring the beverage.”
That made her friend laugh. “Right, I’ll remember that. Now, get going. Who knows how much longer he’ll be outside.”
Oakley’s eyes lit with newfound hope. Maybe he was already inside and she wouldn’t have to go out there like some desperate debutante trying to get the man’s attention. Oh, this was just horrible. She should just call Cam’s bluff. Sixth grade was a long time ago. Was her friend still gutsy enough to walk outside and throw Oakley under the bus head first to a hot guy?
Yes.
Oakley sighed.
Yes, she was.
There was no hope for it. She’d just have to walk out there and face him.
Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, she unscrewed the top and took the tall glass Cam had already filled with ice from the tray. Pouring carefully, she filled the glass almost to the rim and then took a sip from the water left over in the bottle.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered under her breath.
Cam grinned, her eyes dancing. “You got this, girl. Go get your man.”
Oakley shook her head. It was no use arguing. She could tell Cam until she was blue in the face she didn’t want or need a man in her life, well, other than her son and her dad and brother, and it wouldn’t matter. Once Cam got something in her head, there was no talking her out of it.
She’d just go over there and talk to her new neighbor, offer him a glass of water after he’d been working in the sun, and when she returned home without any indication from Chris he was even remotely interested in her? Well, then she could say ‘I told you so’. And hopefully, Cam would leave her alone.
Chapter Six
Chris had been working hard. His muscles hurt in ways they hadn’t in more than a decade. He was used to the ache he got from a hard workout, but this was different. He was using muscles in ways he hadn’t in years and they were protesting. It felt amazing. And fulfilling. He’d only been doing demo work, ripping out drywa
ll, removing old fixtures, and tearing out carpet. But each night when he’d gone to bed, Chris felt as though he’d accomplished something.
He’d felt that playing football, too. However, the gratification from all his hard work and preparation usually came after a game, especially a win. With the work on the house, everyday he felt like he’d crossed a hundred things off his to-do list and it was incredibly satisfying. He’d backed off his physical therapy, except for stretching every morning and evening, because the work he was doing was hard enough. Icing it helped, too.
Chris chuckled to himself. He’d never thought of himself as a wussy guy in his entire life, but there was something about swinging a sledgehammer into a wall that made a man feel like a man. The calluses on his hands were developing calluses. He’d smashed his thumb with a hammer. And without a doubt, he was having the most fun he’d had in years.
He’d been concerned about feeling directionless after announcing his retirement. The last thing he wanted to do was go work with his father and brother. However, in a moment of panic, when he still had no plan in place, he’d considered it. Thankfully, he remembered the house he owned in the suburbs before committing himself to something that would have ended up feeling like a prison sentence.
Stepping into Uncle Ray’s house had brought with it a flood of memories. Some of the happiest moments from his childhood happened right here in this house. Everything was exactly as he remembered it- minus the furniture, and homey touches, and the people that made the house a home. He’d had someone pack up his aunt and uncle’s personal belongings a long time ago and put them into storage. He’d donated their household goods and furniture to a shelter downtown. Still, the place felt familiar and he almost convinced himself to leave it the way it was, but that was just an emotional response.
The floor plan was chunky, the common rooms separated by walls and partitions like most of the homes built around the same time. The house would have a better feel if he opened it up, giving it a more modern flow. It wasn’t just the floor plan that was outdated. The house required new electrical, lighting, bathroom fixtures, cabinets, appliances. Everything needed a fresh look. He was even considering building a large porch on the front and a deck over the existing concrete pad in the back.
When he was finished, the house would be a perfect home for a family raising kids.
Kids.
Chris couldn’t think about kids anymore without being reminded of his beautiful neighbor and her cute little boy. Without being creepy, he’d taken note of the pair’s comings and goings. It was easy to tell when she was headed to work because she always wore a pair of pressed black slacks and a starched white button down shirt with her hair pulled back into a sleek bun. Chris wondered what she did, but with the outfit and crazy hours, he assumed it was something like waitressing.
The thought of how hard she must work to pay for her little house and car and to take care of her son, made his heart hurt. Being a billionaire was a privilege, and not one he took for granted. Having money made his life easy. He could buy whatever he wanted and never run out of it.
Money couldn’t buy everything, however. Just look at his parents. All the money in the world, and still, they had a son they couldn’t control, who wouldn’t conform to their will. Instead of being happy for the person he’d become, they resented the fact that he didn’t let them dictate his life. They’d rarely gone to his games, hadn’t supported his career, his successes. They preferred to focus on their own disappointment, letting it ruin whatever relationship they might have had with him.
Having money didn’t fix everything. It didn’t fix loneliness. It didn’t make people love you.
And worst of all, at least in this instance, he couldn’t force people to accept it from him. Not that he was in the habit of tossing cash at people, but he donated generously to charities, even funded a foundation that provided money for college to underprivileged kids from Denver’s inner city. But there were times he wished he could fix the individual financial struggles of people he came in contact with, people like Oakley who really needed help.
He’d learned from experience, however, it wasn’t a good idea. People had a hard time understanding why someone would want to give their money away. They always wanted to dig into the motivation behind such behavior. Was it because he wanted a favor? Something in return? It was especially sticky helping a woman. Inevitably, in the past, whenever he tried to help someone like Oakley, his actions resulted in misunderstandings about his intentions. These days Chris limited his philanthropic work to donations to organizations or by donating his time, which he’d done a lot of, although, more when he still played football.
But that didn’t help Oakley and Chris found himself desperately wanting to help her. He’d just have to look for opportunities that wouldn’t be construed as anything more than being neighborly. Yep, Chris would just have to be the best neighbor Oakley had ever had.
He’d been curious earlier when an unfamiliar car pulled into her driveway. He’d watched, as unobtrusively as possible, as a cute little blonde woman hopped out of the driver’s seat and let herself in the front door without knocking. Chris would be lying if he didn’t admit to being curious about her. Was she Oakley’s sister? A friend? He’d been even more aware than usual of Oakley’s house since the arrival of her visitor, anxious to discover the woman’s business with Oakley.
Not that it was any of his business, he reminded himself. He doubted Oakley would appreciate the stalker-like tendencies he’d developed since meeting her last week. In fact, he was sure she wouldn’t.
Annoyed with himself, Chris yanked on the stubborn section of yellowing countertop in the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief when it finally broke free. Doubting anyone would want the outdated counter, he carried it outside to toss into the large waste container he’d rented rather than set it in the free pile he’d been adding to all week.
He’d just launched it over the side of the container when he heard a voice say, “Hey, neighbor,” startling him half to death.
“You scared the sh- crap out of me.” He just barely kept himself from swearing as his heart raced. He’d been so intent, thinking about her, it was almost like he’d conjured Oakley out of thin air. Although, if he really had, her appearance wouldn’t have given him such a start.
Oakley’s pretty pink lips stretched into a gorgeous smile. She did things to him. He wondered if she had any idea the picture she made in her cut-off shorts and fitted tank top. Her long, blessedly exposed, legs drew his eye. He followed their length down to her sandaled feet and felt his lips curve at the sight of her painted toes. She was adorable.
Far above her feet, Oakley cleared her throat. She’d caught him checking her out. He brought his eyes up to meet her’s with an unabashed smile. It didn’t bother him for her to know he was attracted to her. Oakley Abbott was a beautiful woman. Although, he supposed he ought to verify her single status. He’d been living in the house beside hers for more than a week and hadn’t seen anyone that might resemble a husband or even a boyfriend.
“You’ve been working hard. I thought you might be thirsty.” She held out a clear glass filled with ice and water. He’d been so consumed, looking her over, he hadn’t noticed she carried anything. Would she bring him a drink of water if she had a husband? Or a boyfriend?
“Thank you.” He took the glass and brought it to his lips. It tasted cold and refreshing. She was right, he was thirsty. Chris drained the liquid without stopping, sighing when he got to the bottom. “I was more thirsty than I thought.”
Oakley’s eyes hadn’t left him and Chris suddenly remembered he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He wouldn’t have taken it off in front of her, but he wasn’t embarrassed by his body. It was wildly satisfying, the look in her eyes as they roved over his shoulders and chest before rising again to meet his.
“How’s Kaden?”
Oakley’s lips curled up at the mention of her son and that made Chris happy. She was a good mom. He could tell.
Kaden was a lucky little boy to have someone who loved him the way she so obviously did. Chris noticed the way she was always careful to make sure he was buckled properly in his carseat. The little boy’s clothes were always clean and tidy when they left the house for the day. Chris often heard Kaden laughing as he played with his mom.
Oakley was special.
She’d make someone an amazing wife someday.
If she wasn’t already married.
“He’s asleep.” She frowned and little wrinkles appeared between her sculpted brows. “At least, I hope he’s still asleep. My friend, Cam, is with him.”
So, not a sister. A friend.
The ice in the glass was melting. Chris took a sip of the water collecting in the bottom and decided to just ask her what he wanted to know. But he’d ease into it first.
“Who watches him when you work?”
Oakley was having a difficult time keeping her eyes on his. They kept drifting over his body and as much as he really didn’t mind, he supposed it was rude not to cover himself up. He set her glass on the edge of the porch and reached for his shirt, slipping it over his head. “Sorry, it’s hot.”
Her eyes widened and her lips tipped in a small smirk. “Yes, it is.”
Was she flirting with him?
Goodness, he hoped so.
He was desperate for more information about this woman. He’d only spoken to her twice including their current conversation and already she’d taken up more of his thoughts than any other woman he’d known or had a relationship with.
Chris lifted his brow.
Oakley seemed confused for just a second before her face cleared. “Oh, right. You asked me who watches Kaden. Sorry. I got a little distracted.” She smiled and Chris was leaning more and more toward his flirting theory.
He folded his arms over his chest, resting his hip against one of the saw horses he’d set up in the yard. Then he waited.
Oakley took a breath before she answered. “My parents watch him. Well, mostly my mom, but when I work late my dad and younger sister are there, too.”
Marrying the Football Billionaire Page 4
