Are you kidding me?
“I mean if you want, we can hang out some other time. I just assumed you wouldn’t really want to come with us. So … we just went ahead and left.”
Hunched over on the hardwood floor in the kitchen, the neighbor’s dog deposited a log of doo.
“Thanks for the dump,” she muttered. To the dog or her friend, it really didn’t matter.
Chapter Two
Down. 16: Lovely.
Eight letters.
Caleb tapped his teeth on the tip of the pencil, deliberating which adjective would fit in the latest crossword puzzle that had captured his attention.
Partially snagged his attention, at least. If his ankle hadn’t started throbbing again, and if his stomach would stop grumbling loud enough to render him a candidate for a Snickers hangry commercial, he would have been in the game.
In the game.
He rolled his eyes and stood from his couch. Three sprains, two partially torn ligaments, and four ripped ligaments ensured he wouldn’t be in any game anytime soon. Like, maybe, forever.
Depressed again about the cold turkey end to his career in the major leagues, he tossed the tattered paperback collection of word puzzles to the cushions—the bench he’d been thoroughly warming for at least a couple months.
Without bothering to turn on the lights, he ambled to the kitchen to take inventory of what could be on the menu. Nearly empty cupboards weren’t promising, and his search in the fridge was pathetic as well. Only two cans of puppy food remained on the counter.
Damn, that dog eats a lot.
Straightening to ease the kink out of his back, he frowned, trying to remember when the last time was that he’d seen the animal. If she wasn’t on his lap or shoving a toy at his hand for fetch, she was—
Oh yeah, outside. Again. He’d dismissed her outside after she knocked over that plant in the living room. Apparently puppies got a kick out of barking at and chasing a vacuum cleaner that sucked up all her pawprints on the carpet.
Caleb’s younger sister had suggested a canine companion when he’d learned he was out of the baseball industry for good. Man’s best friend. Animals help reduce stress. All those sayings. He suspected his sibling simply wanted him to have some kind of friend when he’d dived into the dark rut of loathing his misfortune.
His family had given him plenty of space to brood and mope. They’d even been understanding enough to respect he wanted to be left alone in his misery. But since he’d moved into a former physical therapist’s inherited house, he was immensely grateful for the company his pit bull offered. When she was there.
“Every five damn minutes.” He’d guessed there was a stray cat nearby, because all day Polly had been either prancing and barking at the sliding door to the backyard, frantic to be let out, or jumping and yipping on the opposite side to come back in. Exactly how she’d upended that plant—dashing for the backdoor.
Padding on bare feet to the rear of the house, he grimaced about his lack of food. On New Year’s Eve? The last thing he wanted to do was go out for a meal when restaurants would be packed. He had the reclusive hermit act down to a T. Just before he grasped the handle of the sliding door to summon his dog to return, the doorbell rang.
Who the hell could that be?
Too late for telemarketers. Or the delivery guys, not that he was expecting any packages.
He checked out the opaque window on the front door and begrudged the absence of a proper peephole. It wasn’t his safety that was threatened, merely his privacy. A fuzzy outline of a person with brown hair waited at his doorstep. A familiar whine sounded as well.
Oh, shit.
Opening the door, he prepared a frown for his dog. What the hell good was a fence when the mutt escaped? Instead of scolding his fugitive pet, he took a lingering eyeful of Polly’s captor.
“Gorgeous,” he whispered. The answer to sixteen-down on his crossword puzzle stood before him.
“Excuse me?” the brunette asked, squinting some.
God, her eyes. Even with her lids nearly closing over them she couldn’t lose her … her … spunk? The slant of her eyebrows, the crinkle of her lips almost turning up, the bold blue in her steady stare. Did she even realize how mischievous she sounded with such a simple question? Like issuing a challenge.
It has been way too long since I’ve talked to a woman.
“Uh, hi.” He tugged his baseball cap lower on his head and smiled at her.
Polly wiggled and ran in place, stoked to “embrace” him in a greeting. The curvy woman let out an oomph as his dog broke free from her hold on the purple collar. He exhaled a similar sound as his canine launched onto him, her front paws shoving his pecs, causing him to backpedal at the force of dog love. Wincing, he bit back a grunt from the sharp pain of putting extra weight on his bad ankle.
“Somebody decided to visit me next door,” she explained.
Encouraging Polly to stand on her own four feet, he wiped the faint soil off his t-shirt and faced his neighbor. She was wrapped in a slim black number and standing in come-hither footwear. He willed himself to meet her eyes. Just as he disciplined his gaze, a strand of her chestnut tresses fell over her forehead, pulling his admiration to her messy but sexy curls.
Like bed hair. Or it should be. Destroyed hairdo from romping under his sheets…
“Ava,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. She held her hand out, almost as an afterthought, for a handshake.
The fact she didn’t blush or titter before what had to be a lusty leer impressed him.
“Caleb,” he replied, grasping her hand and squeezing gently. “I’m so sorry. I thought she was in the backyard. Behind the fence.”
Well no shit, she knows there’s a fence. It’s bordering her yard too, moron.
Ava gave him a small smile. Or maybe it was a smirk. A smirkle. “By the dirt she decorated my porch with, I’m guessing she dug her way out.”
He bit his bottom lip. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” Now he’d need to sweep it up or clean it somehow. He wasn’t raised to let others tidy after his own messes. And Polly was his mess. So that meant leaving the solitude of his house, and being out in public, even the semi-public of their block.
Then again, if it means being near her… I wouldn’t reject that.
He tilted his head, a little surprised at how quickly she’d appealed to him, encouraging him to step outside his hermit hole and want company that didn’t chase dog bones.
She waved a hand and shrugged the opposite shoulder. “No big. It’ll blow away.” As her arm relaxed, he followed the line of her skin, all the way to the inky strap around her neck.
Normally, if he’d caught a glimpse of her entering her house at the end of the day, he’d seen her in a dress that belonged on Leave It to Beaver. And on a few rare occasions, he’d spy her in her bra, singing and dancing as she played housewife in her home, sweeping and dusting—probably unaware she hadn’t closed the curtains or the windows. He hadn’t intended to watch, feeling every bit like a creeping Peeping Tom, but hell, she was hot. And she did a wicked attempt at belting out “Janie’s Got a Gun.” Even he’d never been able to hit Steven Tyler’s notes that well.
“Thank you for bringing her back. I’m sorry if I’ve disrupted your plans for the night.”
Ava snorted. “Oh, no worries there.”
Meaning she wasn’t going out dressed like a sultry vixen? Not on her way to party and lure some lucky man for a kiss at midnight? Because she sure looked like it. “Really?”
“Ditched.”
Her one-word retort nearly had him laughing. When she avoided eye contact, seeming to study the Under Armor logo at the bottom of his shorts, he realized she was serious. It was amusing, the thought a man would let a prize like her go. Who’d be so stupid?
“I’m sorry.”
“Eh.” She flapped a hand to her thigh as though to demonstrate “oh well.” “Shit happens, right?”
Got that right.
“Well, it was, u
m, nice to meet you.” She backed up, her sinful heels clicking on the concrete of the porch. On the sidewalk, she gave him her back. He followed the abundance of slender flesh as her toned legs carried her away. With a wave, she left, calling out, “Have a good night.”
Making sure Polly was in the house behind him, he stepped out, not quite ready to say good night, or good bye, or… Hell, he didn’t even know what he wanted to yell out to her retreating figure, but he couldn’t argue the basic fact he didn’t want her to walk off.
After months of self-imposed solitude, he was shocked at how strongly he’d enjoyed their brief, even polite chitchat. They’d spoken fewer words than he’d shared with the mailman. Unlike his conversations with the postal worker, though, Caleb welcomed Ava’s presence and couldn’t help but want to know more about her. How she could be so dismissive of the certain disappointment of being ditched. Why she was so forgiving about his disobedient animal.
As if on cue, Polly tugged his shorts and whined. If she wagged her tail any more vigorously she’d fall over.
Chuckling, he turned from watching Ava disappear into her front yard and held on to his dog’s collar.
Standing on the front step of his porch, he inhaled a deep rush of crisp night air. He stared at the airless Santa Claus decoration that was crumpled in a heap on the neighbor’s lawn across the street. The couple had yet to remove the usually abominable inflated monstrosity. Yard décor wasn’t his thing, but he wished they’d get that freaking balloon dude out of there. Christmas was over. As far he was concerned, the year was over. His career certainly was—why should any festivities continue?
Sighing heavily, he guided Polly into his house. “You’re a bad, bad girl,” he scolded with a smile.
He immediately went outside in his back yard and located the upturned dirt and escape route Polly created. Not wanting to get a shovel out of the garage, he picked up a log from the firewood stack and shoved it in the hole. It could wait until another time.
He shut the sliding door and Polly jumped as she led the way to the kitchen. He gave her a can of beef pâté and snagged a bag of cheese cubes from the fridge. The last item of fresh food in the house. He still wasn’t in the mood to call for take-out. Then again, maybe this would be the perfect time to head to the 24/7 grocery store. Not like there’d be a crowd at all shopping this close to the beginning of a new year.
Lying on the couch, resting his bemoaned ankle—aggravated from heading into the yard—he shared his snack with Polly. One for him, and then he’d pop a chunk in the air for the dog to catch. ESPN quietly droned on in the background.
Instead of talking to the animal, like he did most days and nights, he relished the silence to think, to wonder.
Ava. A classic name. Gorgeous woman. Which made no sense. Did she exhibit some kind of messed-up cult behavior? Collect taxidermy in her house? Pick her nose? As much as he pondered what, if anything, could be unattractive about her to the point her date would flake out on her on New Year’s, he considered she was, in fact, a stranger. And if he wished to change that status, he’d need to leave his house and get to know her.
“Maybe you could drag her over here again, huh?” he asked Polly as she nuzzled his hand.
Who was he kidding? If he couldn’t shore up the guts to shop for food at a normal time of the day and interact with society, he clearly wasn’t ready for a one-to-one deal with someone. A woman at that.
Petting the silky fur on Polly’s snout, he settled into a peaceful compliance of quiet. His time traveling with the team and socializing with his ex-wife eradicated serenity for years. Maybe three months was a long time to recover from his debilitating career-ending injury, but he felt no guilt in recuperating from the crazy stresses of his former days.
In the calm just before sleep, he watched as Polly’s ears twitched. Then her eyes opened wider. The next second, she woofed at him, sharing a blast of her pâté breath.
“Ugh.” What the hell do they put in dog food? He sat up and dragged a hand down his face. “I’m getting you dental bones whenever I do get out of this house.”
Polly scrambled on the smooth hardwood floor for purchase, struggling to race for the front door. The bell rang.
Appreciating the animal’s ability to prematurely alert him of someone’s arrival, he was curious for the second time in the hour who his late visitor could be. He shoved aside his hope that it’d be Ava. Because even though he was oddly eager for her company, he didn’t look forward to the inevitable awkwardness that was sure to follow.
Besides, what would be her reason to return?
No… He groaned. She probably went home, had a light bulb moment of who her neighbor actually was, and then wanted to come back and get an autograph or some shit.
Please, no.
Who’d want his signature? His name meant nothing now. He was over. Done. In the past. Move on, man. Move on. To what, he had no idea.
Not wanting to risk his dog darting away, he went toward the front door, corralling Polly into the office and shutting her in first.
He opened the door, not even bothering to peer through the crappy window first.
Hello, gorgeous.
“At the risk of repeating myself. Excuse me?” Ava crinkled her brow.
He hadn’t meant to speak the damn words.
Instead of her form-fitting and hard-on-inducing black dress, she sported an entirely different ensemble. A tight, kiwi-hued t-shirt with an outline of the Yellow Submarine across her breasts presented his first impression of what he assumed was her nightwear. Had to be her version of pajamas because no sane person would strut around the neighborhood in sleeper shorts printed with Oscar the Grouch flipping his middle finger.
Regardless of the eclectic apparel and her fresh face void of makeup, she was still just as breathtaking and captivating as she had been in her dress. Maybe more so. Even though she was a stranger in every sense, he suspected her true beauty was something she couldn’t wear on her skin.
“Hi,” he said, leaning to the side to eye what she held at her hip. “Delivery?”
She tipped her lips in a chagrined smile. “Yeah. Mine. Which I received ten seconds before my front door shut and locked behind me.”
“Uh oh.”
“More like ‘fuck me.’”
He raised his brows. If you say so. Jerking off had gotten so very old. “Things aren’t going so hot tonight, huh?”
“You could say that.” Ava hitched the pizza boxes higher on her hip and sighed. “Anyway, my phone is locked in my house and I don’t have a spare key outside. Is there any chance I could borrow your phone to call for someone to bring me their spare?”
“No problem.” Privacy is overrated, isn’t it? Releasing his grip on the doorframe, he nodded. “Come on in. Let me grab my phone.”
“Actually, I can make a deal. I’ll share half of this grub with you in exchange for intruding to make a phone call.”
Intruding? Hardly. He admired her non-creepy forwardness. “You’re on.” He held his hand out to shake on it. She dragged her gaze from his hand enveloping hers, all the way up to his face.
Crap. I forgot to put my hat back on! Swallowing roughly, he focused on maintaining his smile while he panicked she might realize who he was.
A frown marred her faintly freckled face as she studied him. “You’re not…”
God dammit. Here we go.
“You’re not an axe murderer or something, are you?” she asked.
Laughter boomed deep in his chest, shaking off the weights of worries. A criminal?
“No. No, I’m not.” Still holding her hand, he squeezed her warm flesh.
I can’t believe it.
She didn’t recognize him. It was such a rarity, and a delight. And it was all the more reason he had to invite her in. A person—a woman—to see him as a person, not a pathetic has-been or the source of millions.
Regret seemed to flash though her mind as she gasped, wincing. “Oh God. No. Not—” She pinched her ey
es shut for a second. “Not that you look like a felon… Well, it’s just at the rate my luck is going, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Well, isn’t New Year’s supposed to be about starting over?” He tugged her hand to gently coax her inside.
Chapter Three
“Starting over? That’d be perfect.”
Ava followed Caleb into his house, half-heartedly checking out his home because her attention was squared on the man. His toned muscles that proved he was a hunk familiar with the gym or manual labor, his confident welcome, his shaggy black hair with the perfect just-got-out-of-bed muss—
Crap. What if he is just getting out of bed? With someone?
She hadn’t offered her pizza as a lame shortcut to coerce herself into his house. She wasn’t that desperate. For a phone call, yes, but not to throw herself at a sexy stranger. But now that she was at his place, and now that she could witness and appreciate up close how goddamn mouthwatering he was, it kind of helped to imagine her being alone with him.
Get a grip.
“What would you start over? Have a bad day before my dog bugged you?” he asked. Stopping at a door, he jerked his head to her boxes. “Brace yourself.” Then he opened the door and his dog dashed out.
Holding the pizza above her head as the pit bull begged and jumped, she laughed. As soon as she met Caleb’s gaze though, and noticed the desire in his eyes, her amusement faded. Arms in the air, she was practically advertising her girls. Confined in the now too-tight ratty shirt she slept in, she was all too aware of her braless state.
She cleared her throat. “Bad day? Try 365 of them. It’s been a bad year.”
He blinked as she lowered her arms and resumed walking down the hall. “Wanna take it to the den?” At the end of the hallway, he gestured to the huge open room. A monstrous flat screen hung on the opposite wall, sleek oak floors stretched everywhere, and a plush couch demanded she melt into it. Positioned at the rear of the house, she could guess and understand why he likely spent most of his time back here, making the rest of the house seem uninhabited from front windows. “I’ll grab us a couple waters. Sorry, my kitchen is bare.”
New Year's Next Door (Romance on the Go Book 0) Page 2
