Being Neighborly

by Carey Heywood

  “Oh, you’re back. What did you think of Bethany?” Bess’s eyes light up as she crosses the room to me.

  She’s a sweet soul, with a habit of meddling.

  “I didn’t realize you had already met her when you sent me to deliver the pie.”

  “I didn’t tell you?” she asks innocently.

  I smirk, draping my arm around her shoulders and kissing the side of her head. “I’m on to you.”

  She grins. “She’s a real pretty girl, isn’t she?”

  I almost argue her use of the word girl, in my opinion Bethany is all woman; instead, I only nod my agreement.

  “Well,” she pushes, “didn’t you think she was pretty?”

  Smoldering hazel eyes, plump kissable lips, and auburn curls flash through my mind. “She’s pretty.”

  Gorgeous, really.

  “It’s so nice to have someone your age living so close to us now. Maybe you could ask her on a date.”

  “Bess,” I interrupt, “she just moved here. Let the poor woman settle in before you try and get her a man.”

  She glares up at me, a sight that would have had my eight-year-old self quaking in my boots, but now just makes me want to hug her. “This is the reason you’re still single. You are too relaxed about women. You need to be more forceful and get what you want.”

  I grin down at her. “I haven’t had any complaints.”

  It takes everything I have not to laugh when she starts muttering, “No complaints.” She pushes away from me and opens the front door. “I don’t see a line waiting to go out with you.”

  Ouch.

  Frowning, I walk out onto the front porch and slump into an old wooden rocker. She follows me cautiously, possibly regretting the bite in her words. I don’t say it, but I’d love to be settled down, married with children of my own. I’ve dated, but shit always came up, differences. I’ll be thirty in less than a year and I’m happy where I am, on this farm. I have no desire to live anywhere else.

  I grew up here. My dad’s health started declining when it would have been time for me to go away to college. I decided to stay home, take courses at the local community college so I could help my dad. I wouldn’t go back and do things differently; it just made meeting girls hard. I was too busy with work and school to socialize.

  Besides, it seems like every girl who’s ever sparked my interest has moved away. A girl I grew up with, Sawyer, came back into my life last year. Never thought I’d be interested in a woman with pink hair, but it didn’t matter anyway. She was in love with someone else. They’re already married and expecting a baby now. Story of my life.

  As cute as Bethany is, there’s no guarantee she’ll even like country life. There’s a fifty-fifty chance she’ll be gone within a year. I’m a watcher, a planner and a patient man. If she’s still here this time next year, maybe I’ll ask her out.

  Bess breaks the silence. “I’m sorry I was rough.”

  Shaking my head, I smile up at her. “You didn’t say anything I don’t already know.”

  I skip dinner with the rest of the house in favor of my quiet cabin, still full from pie and ice cream. There’s a loft above the main room with a thick mattress and soft cushions. A porthole window offers a gentle breeze from the orchard. I’ve spent many a day sprawled out up here with a book. It was my hideaway even when I was younger.

  Unless someone takes the time to climb the wooden ladder leading up here, there’s no way to know I’m here. I’m a solitary man. I need time to myself, and after the long winter in the main house, I need it more than ever. Today, instead of reading, I contemplate the surprise that is Bethany.

  It’ll take a while to not picture her on her back, long bare legs sticking out from underneath the table. Pairing that image with the noises she made as she ate that pie, I groan as the two moments combine in my mind and send blood rapidly to my painfully hardening cock. I may be solitary, but that does not mean I don’t enjoy the feel of a woman underneath me.

  At this moment, I’m wishing it was a certain woman with eyes that can’t make up their mind between green or brown. Last thing I should be thinking of is dragging those cut-off jean shorts down her legs and tasting her. What I should be doing is taking a long cold shower, but climbing down that ladder with a stiff dick will be a pain in the ass.

  I unbuckle my belt, then pop open the button on my worn jeans. My cock pushes almost painfully against the zipper as I ease it down. Once I’m free, I grip, picturing Bethany on her knees and those luscious lips wrapped around it. Her eyes blink up at me as she sucks me down deeply. With each blink, they change colors only slightly, one time looking more brown, the next more green.

  In my mind, I fist her hair, pumping my hips as I come down her throat. Sadly, in real life I’m alone, coming all over my hand and shirt and not a towel in sight. I wipe my hand on my shirt and carefully pull it off without making more of a mess. Once I’m zipped, buttoned, and buckled up, I toss my shirt down from the loft and climb down the ladder.

  I’m on the last rung when someone knocks on the door. I’m shirtless but otherwise dressed, so I cross the room quickly to answer it.

  Words fail me as I find Bethany on my doorstep. Her mouth hangs open as she openly ogles not my face but my chest. All I can think, looking at her, is how I just pictured my cock in her mouth. Her standing here with it hanging open sends blood rushing that direction again.

  I clear my throat, crossing my arms over my chest in the hopes she’ll look up at me and close her mouth. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.”

  Her eyes snap up to mine, looking more brown than green. “Bess called and invited me over for dinner. I just got here and she sent me over to collect you since it’s almost ready.”

  I’ll bet she did, I think to myself. “I was just changing my shirt.”

  Hoping that explains my appearance, I turn and grab my soiled shirt from the floor. “Give me just a minute. Umm, make yourself comfortable.”

  She tiptoes into my cabin and her eyes dance around the room, from the wood carvings on the walls to the old worn throw blankets hanging off the back of the sofa. I flee to my bathroom and fill the sink up with water before tossing my shirt in it. I usually don’t do my own laundry and do not want to explain that spot to anyone. On my way back to the front room, I grab a Henley from my closet and drag it over my head.

  “It’s a nice surprise, you joining us for dinner,” I say once I’m back in the room with her.

  “It was sweet of Bess to ask me,” she replies.

  Is that saying she wished I had asked her? I frown but wipe it from my face when I see her watching me.

  “You’re always welcome.”

  She’s lost her pink flip-flops and changed into a dress and a pair of worn-in cowboy boots. She was showing more leg in her cutoffs, but knowing I could easily push that dress up and over her hips is one hell of a turn-on. Shit, she could even leave the boots on.

  “I might be a crazy person. You shouldn’t just make a blanket invitation like that.”

  I push open the door, holding it for her. “Just being neighborly.”

  “Oh, so that invitation isn’t specific to me? It’s open to all of your neighbors?”

  “Never said that.” I sweep my arm in front of me. “After you.”

  She eases past me, her arm brushing mine as she does. “Thank you.”

  Once outside, I frown when I notice how cool it’s become. “Will you be warm enough?”

  She nods, but the slide of her hands up and down her arms tells a different story.

  “Wait right here.”

  Hurrying back into the cabin and back into my room, I pull an old hoodie from my closet. It’s small on me but good for layering under bigger coats during the winter. I’m back outside and by her side in no time.

  “Put this on,” I say, passing it to her.

  “You didn’t have to,” she argues even though she’s already putting it on.

  I have to admit, my clothes look goo
d on her.

  “Didn’t want you to catch a cold.”

  The main house is a short walk from my cabin. Her long legs match my stride easily and I use the opportunity to point out different sections of the farm along the way.

  “So you donate whatever you don’t use to the food bank?”

  This has been a bone of contention with other girls I’ve dated. “Yep, we make enough to sustain our needs, barter for things we need in the community, and donate the rest. We’re technically a nonprofit.”

  She spins around, almost trying to see the whole place at once. “That’s so cool.”

  “Really?” I push, she needs to understand I’ll never been a wealthy man.

  She nods, her eyes meeting mine. “I moved here to take a step back, live more simply. I love what you’re doing here.”

  I look away, suddenly embarrassed by her praise.

  “I see you found, Beau,” Bess calls out from the front porch.

  “I wouldn’t have made her come and get me if I knew you had invited her,” I retort.

  Glancing around, I look for her car. “Where’d you park?”

  Bess tsks. “I went and picked her up. Didn’t want her to have to drive at night on our dirt roads.”

  “I told her she didn’t have to,” Bethany adds.

  Shaking my head, I stop her from saying anything else. “She’s right though; these country roads can be tricky at night.”

  Bess leans slightly over the railing toward us. “I hoped you would drive her back. You know how my eyesight gets in the dark.”

  Puppet master all the way.

  She smiles sweetly as she opens the door for us. I take over for her and kiss her cheek as she passes by me. Meals on the farm are a well-oiled machine at this point. Everyone helps out in one way or another. Bess and two other families currently live in the main house.

  The kids set the table and clear it before dessert. The older kids and adults all take turns preparing meals. I’m not much of a cook, but put in my time on a regular basis doing food prep. I do dishes most nights as well. Washing dishes is safe. I’ve never burned one or undercooked one.

  Everyone is sitting when we walk into the dining room. After introductions are made, we all sit and dig in. I had planned to skip dinner earlier, thinking I was full. One look at the roasted chicken and mashed potatoes proves I was wrong. Over dinner, it’s nice to learn more about Bethany through other people’s questions.

  She is an only child. Glancing around the table, she explains she always wished for a big family. Her parents are still living; they retired and moved to Florida a couple years back. She had no desire of moving that far south but figured Tennessee was closer than Maryland when she decided to move.

  Money was the main reason she researched moving here in the first place. Tennessee has no state income tax. There is still a tax for investment related income but not income she earned through her business. Florida is another state without income tax, but the idea of living there never appealed to her. Once she spent some time online researching communities, she could see herself living here.

  The Wilson place had been on the market for a while and fit her budget.

  The reason it was in her price range though were the updates needed to it. That didn’t deter her; she had a plan and it involved doing some of the work herself. All I could picture was her underneath that table, and her all by herself if something else like that happened. That’s the only excuse I have for opening my mouth. “I could help you.”

  She shakes her hand and her head at the same time. “No, I’m perfectly capable of—”

  Bess cuts her off before she can get any farther. “Beau, that’s a wonderful idea. Bethany, he is so good with his hands. He’ll get you taken care of in no time.”

  I'd like to show her just how good with my hands I can be.

  Bethany looks back and forth between us, clearly debating my offer to help. Her gaze finally rests on me. "Are you sure?"

  I'm not, but I won't let her know that. "Wouldn't have offered otherwise."

  Her lips pull tightly, a wise smile settling in. "That would be amazing. I've watched ‘how to’ videos but never tackled anything like this on my own before."

  "I'm happy to be of assistance."

  The look of sheer delight on Bess's face was not lost on me. As much as I give her grief for trying to set me up with any available woman near my age, I get how lucky I am that she cares. Bess might not be blood, but she's family. Someone loves you, and tries to do a kindness for you, that is something you acknowledge. I do this by giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze on my way to the kitchen. I’m on dish detail and figure Bess and Bethany can gab. I am elbows deep in hot suds when Bethany comes up beside me.

  "Can I help?"

  "You're a guest. I can take care of this," I reply, waiting for her to argue.

  She grabs a towel and reaches for a plate. "I don't mind."

  We make short work of the dinner dishes. Since dessert is another apple pie, I ask Bethany if she'd like to go for a walk instead. I try to invite Bess, but am turned down in favor of pie and a firm suspicion she wants Bethany and me to be alone.

  Dusk is in full effect, shadows growing into night with each minute passing. The path to the orchard is so well worn and imprinted on me, the lack of light is no concern. It has a happy side effect, however, of Bethany grabbing my arm when she stumbles, and she doesn’t let me go after I right her.

  If she's still here in a year, I am definitely asking her out.

  “In the summertime, these trees will be full of fireflies.”

  She stops walking and sighs. “I can’t remember the last time I saw a firefly.

  Shaking my head, I give her arm a little tug to get her moving again. “You’ll be seeing them almost every night in a month or so, as long as you look outside just after the sun’s set.”

  “Another thing to look forward to.”

  We fall into an easy pace, her arm still around mine. “Another thing? Do you have a list going?”

  It’s still light enough that I can see her nod. “I do, not written down or anything.” She taps her head. “All up here.”

  We’re almost out of the orchard and I point out the small grouping of gravestones. “Do cemeteries scare you? We can avoid it if you’d like.”

  Her pull on my arm toward the gravestones answers my question. “Has this always been here? How old are these? Is it like your family plot?”

  "Not just immediate family, but we still consider it the family plot if that makes sense."

  She peers at the stones, the light probably making the markings hard to read. "I'd love to come back here during the day."

  "You're welcome anytime."

  The absence of sunlight in no way diminishes the brightness from her responding smile. It lights up her face and eyes in a way that makes my chest tight. Were I not exhaling and inhaling without struggle, I would think she takes my breath away. Dizzy, and not from lack of oxygen, I dumbly blink at her.

  As if realizing the effect a full blast of her smile is having on me, she looks away. "That's so nice. Thank you."

  Once we return to the main path, we are back to the main house in no time.

  "I should be probably be getting home," she murmurs.

  Nervously, I wonder if something from our walk bothered her. "Oh, right. Hang tight. I'm going to give Bess a heads up that I'm running you home."

  Hurriedly, I find Bess and let her know where I am going. Only reason I do is so she won’t worry. The gleam in her eyes makes me second-guess it though. Making the excuse that Bethany is waiting for me, I leave before she can encourage me to ask her out.

  Ignoring the attraction I feel for Bethany is impossible. I'm just trying to be smart about it. She's our closest neighbor. With any luck, she'll stay a while.

  If it turns out country life doesn't suit her and she leaves, at least there won't be any feelings on either side complicating things. If she's still here in ten months, maybe I'll as
k her out.

  She turns when I open the front door, the light resting on her face. "Ready?"

  Her lips curve. "Yep."

  Offering my arm, more for the feel of hers than anything else, we walk toward my cabin. Walking around to the passenger side, I open the door for her. In theory, the act screams gentleman and my mama would be proud, as long as she didn’t know how much leg I get to enjoy as Bethany settles in her seat. The thoughts running through my mind are anything but gentlemanly.

  Attraction is there. An internal debate sparks between my common sense and go-with-the-flow self. Repercussions of things ending badly with my closest neighbor keep me from acting on that attraction. Besides, if she still lived here in ten, er, make that nine months, I’m asking her out.

  Chapter Three

  “What do you think about this color?”

  I squint at the twelfth paint chip I’ve been asked to give my opinion on in the last five minutes. “Did you show me that one already?”

  Her face lights up. “Just making sure you were paying attention.”

  I lean forward against the cart, resting my chin in my hand. “And I’ll tell you what I said the first time. That’s an excellent choice.”

  Her brows come together and her lips pucker into a pout. “But you said that for all of them.”

  Grinning, I reply, “I meant that for all of them. It’s paint. If you don’t like what you get, we can just repaint it.”

  “But which one do you like the most?”

  I stand and step toward her, draping my arm across her shoulders. “It’s your kitchen.”

  “Fine,” she huffs, going with the pale mango shade.

  “Did you still want to paint the cabinets too?”

  She shakes her head. “I want to see how the walls look done first.”

  Passing over the paint color to the store employee to mix it, she waits while I go and fill our cart with the supplies we’ll need. It’s been two weeks since she came over for dinner and we’ve fallen into an easy friendship. She likes to cook and has talked me into coming over a couple nights every week so she can try stuff on me. Apparently, my palate is too countrified. I grew up eating simple meals we made based on what the farm produced. I have nothing against other types of food, just haven’t had them.