by Locklyn Marx
As soon as she did, the dog scampered in and ran right by her and into the kitchen. He got to work sniffing through her boxes.
“Oh,” she said. “Um…” Her instinct told her to tell him to stop, but she wasn’t sure if she should. He was a strange dog after all, and while he seemed nice enough – his tail was wagging as he poked his nose around in her things – she didn’t want to startle him. “Hi, dog.”
He ignored her and continued his sniffing.
She made her way slowly to the refrigerator and pulled out a package of pepperoni. It was one of the few things she had in the house, a misguided attempt at buying things at the store that were low-carb and could travel well. But trying to start a diet while you were moving was just setting yourself up for failure, and so she’d ended up eating doughnuts this morning with her sister Jamie.
“You want some pepperoni, boy?” she asked. She held out a piece of pepperoni, and the dog came over and gobbled it hungrily. Poor thing. He was probably starving.
He wasn’t wearing a collar, so there was no chance of him having any tags on. She sat down on the floor of the kitchen and held more pepperoni out. The way he was eating was making her heart break. Who knew when the last time was that the poor thing had had anything to eat?
She wished she had something more substantial to feed him, but right now this was all she had, unless he wanted a glazed doughnut. She opened the Dunkin’ Donuts box that was on the stove and pulled off a piece of pastry.
“Do you like doughnuts, boy?” she asked, holding it out. The dog put its snout up to Lindsay’s hand and sniffed, then took the piece of doughnut and wolfed it down. It sat down and wagged its tail, apparently excited and waiting for more.
A dog who liked carbs! It was an animal after Lindsay’s own heart! She gave the dog another piece of doughnut and then a tentative little pat on the head. The dog’s tail sped up even more. He liked being pet.
Suddenly, Lindsay wanted to keep the dog. She had a mental image of getting up early, taking the dog for long walks on the trails behind her property, throwing a ball while the dog frolicked and jumped around, barking happily as it splashed through ponds and ran through brush.
She’d always wanted a dog. Her mother was always saying how they were too much responsibility, but honestly, how much responsibility could they be? Children were allowed to have them, for God’s sakes. Besides, Lindsay worked from home as a romance writer. It would be nice to have the company.
Of course, first she would have to try to find the dog’s home. Maybe she’d put up posters or something. She had a feeling he was a stray, though. He looked a little skinny.
The dog’s ears perked up as the sound of a car driving down the road came through the kitchen. He immediately ran to the front window and put his paws up on the sill, looking out and giving a small bark.
He was already protecting the place as if it were his own! How adorable!
Lindsay ate a piece of the doughnut in her hand. It was settled. She was keeping him.
***
The blonde’s name was Michelle, and she was a giggler. Everything made her laugh. Chace knew she was a bad idea almost as soon as he’d started talking to her. The daiquiri had been the first red flag, and he should have followed his instincts. Following his instincts had never steered him wrong.
But she was here now, in his truck, giggling away at everything he said as he brought her back to his house.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was gorgeous, that much was sure. Long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, flawless skin. She wore a turquoise halter top and a tight black miniskirt that left little to the imagination.
“This is your street?” she giggled. “Don’t you get scared living out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“Not really,” he said. “I like my alone time.” It was a thinly veiled hint that she shouldn’t get any ideas about hanging around tomorrow, expecting him to make her breakfast, or to take her out for coffee and entertain her. It was much easier when you went back to the woman’s apartment, but Michelle was visiting here from Chicago. She was here in a hotel, with her friend, who had called dibs on the room.
On the other hand, Michelle would be going home soon, thousands of miles away where Chace wouldn’t have to worry about running into her at the store or having her email him asking when she could see him again.
He pulled into the driveway.
Michelle giggled.
He cut the engine.
Michelle giggled.
He sighed.
“Nice house,” she said.
“Thanks.” He was pleased in spite of himself. The house was pretty amazing. It was a two-story, but it looked taller because the ceilings were so high, which was extremely rare for a house built on the Cape during the fifties. There was a turret on one side, with a newly shingled roof. The grounds were immaculately kept, with red roses he’d planted himself. He worked in the garden every morning in the summer, before heading off to the restaurant. Mornings were hard for him. He liked it better when it was dark out, and he found the physical labor of gardening to be a good distraction.
He stepped out of the car. Michelle was still sitting in his truck. He waited a moment, but she didn’t move. Jesus Christ. She expected him to open the door for her, like they were on a fucking date.
Before he could decide whether or not to do it, a familiar bark came from the side of the house. He turned, expecting to see Maximilian standing in the rose garden.
But there was nothing but darkness.
Chace turned back to the car, but the bark came again. It was definitely Maximilian. But where the hell was he?
And that’s when he saw the dog. He was in the window of Lindsay’s house, his little tan face pressed up against the glass, his mouth open, his pink tongue hanging out.
Chace’s fists clenched at his sides. What the hell was Maximilian doing over there?
Leaving Michelle to her own devices, he marched across the lawn and pounded on Lindsay’s front door.
She opened it a moment later, and when she did, Chace’s breath caught in his chest. Jesus Christ. Lindsay was wearing a short red nightgown. It wasn’t the kind of thing that was meant to be overtly sexy, but Lindsay’s curvy body filled out the tight little thing just right. The top of her breasts peeked over the material, and the bottom just skimmed her knees. Her long chestnut hair fell in loose, tousled waves around her shoulders, like she’d been tumbling around in bed before he got there. Her full lips arranged themselves in an O of surprise when she saw him standing on the porch.
The numbness he’d experienced when he’d seen her before had dissipated, and now all he felt was searing desire. It wall he could do not to grab her and pull her toward him, kissing her and running his hands up under that short little nightgown.
“Oh,” she said, her look of surprise turning to one of annoyance. “It’s you.”
“Who else would it be?” he asked, pushing by her and into the house. “It’s ten o’clock and I’m the only one who lives around here.” He took a moment to let his eyes linger on her long legs, the soft curve of her hips, the swell of her breast. “Unless you were expecting someone?”
“No, I wasn’t expecting someone,” she hissed. She held the front door open, waiting for him to walk back outside. “And you’re not allowed to just come barging in here anytime you want. This is my house.”
“You might want to shut that door,” he told her. “You’re letting in the mosquitoes.”
“Get out.” She opened the door wider.
“Or?”
“Or…I’ll call the police.”
He laughed. “And what will you say?”
“I’ll say that you broke into my house!”
“But I didn’t. You invited me in.”
“No, I didn’t. You just barged in.”
“You opened the door.”
“Yes, because I didn’t know who you were!” She grabbed a sweater off the back of the chair in the kitch
en and wrapped it around herself. He tried to hide his disappointment.
“Wow,” he said, looking around. “What a mess.” The whole kitchen was filled with boxes, the only furniture a rickety looking wooden table with one lonely chair. He’d been in the house before, of course. But when he’d seen it, it had been empty. It had almost looked better then. When it was empty, you could imagine the possibilities. Now it just looked like a rundown house with a bunch of boxes of junk all over the floor.
“I just moved in,” she said defensively.
“I know. You put your garbage in my bin, remember?”
“My sister did,” she corrected him. “Now what the hell do you want?”
What he wanted, he realized, was to strip her naked and have his way with her.
Hell, he didn’t even have to have her in the bedroom. He would have been happy to take her right here, right now. He’d lay her down on the table, let his hands get lost in those loose curls, his mouth get lost in her curves.
“I came,” he said, “for my dog.”
***
“Your dog?” Lindsay repeated, her heart sinking. Her stray actually belonged to Chace? That seemed impossible. The dog was so sweet, and Chace…Chace was so…
not sweet.
Maybe that’s why it had run away.
“Yeah,” he said. “My dog, Maximilian.” As if on cue, the dog ran over to Chace and started licking his hand. “Apparently, you stole him.”
“I didn’t steal him,” Lindsay said. “He came over.”
“Whatever.” Chace gave Maximilian’s head a pat, but his eyes were still on her body. She pulled the thin sweater she was wearing tighter around herself. He grinned at her, as if he knew exactly why she was doing it. She felt her face flush. Why had she answered the door wearing her nightgown? She’d forgotten she was wearing it, hadn’t thought to put something on.
Her breathing accelerated and her nipples hardened. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and she prayed he couldn’t see the affect he was having on her.
But from the way he was looking at her, with an amused look on his face, she was almost sure he could.
He crossed the room in one fluid motion until he was right in front of her, so close she could feel his body heat. She was so shocked by his sudden nearness that for a moment, she couldn’t speak.
He reached up and put his hands on her shoulders, and she went to move away, but he held her tight, not letting her.
“Lindsay Benson,” he said, shaking his head as he trailed a finger down over her collarbone.
So he did remember who she was. Why had he pretended he didn’t? His touch was like an electric shock, his fingertips setting her skin on fire. Cold shivers slid up her spine, and she went to pull her sweater tighter again, but he gripped the thin material and pushed it down her shoulders, letting his fingertips skim her arms as he dropped the sweater to the floor.
And then he kissed her.
The kiss was deep and hard, its intent clear. His hands encircled her waist, making her feel tiny against the width of his body, and his tongue slipped into her mouth, exploring.
She told herself to push him away, and her mind screamed that this was a terrible idea, tried to remind her of the heartbreak and sleepless nights this man had caused her.
But her body screamed back, louder than her mind, telling her this felt right, telling her to let him take her, to give him whatever he wanted.
And then, just as her resolve was all but gone, there was a knock on the door.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice called. “Chace? Are you in there? It’s me, Michelle.”
Chace froze.
Lindsay took a step back, then grabbed the sweater that was lying on the floor and quickly slid her arms through it. “Who the hell is Michelle?” she asked.
The knock came again. “Chace?” the voice whined. “I’m cold! Are we going to go inside or not?”
Lindsay looked at him incredulously. “You have a girl with you?”
He didn’t say anything, just crossed the room in his easy gait and swung open the door. The girl standing on the porch had long blonde hair, blue eyes, and couldn’t have been more than twenty-two. “Hey!” she said brightly.
Maximilian ran up to her, his tail wagging. Traitor, Lindsay thought.
“Oooh, a doggie!” Michelle giggled. “I love dogs. Hi, doggie, dog, dog!”
“Yes, well,” Lindsay said, “thanks so much for stopping by to pick up your dog.
You can go now.”
“Okay,” Michelle said happily. She was apparently too stupid to figure out there was something more going on here.
Chace slid by Lindsay and out the door. But before he did, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “This isn’t over.”
Her nipples tightened and excitement surged through her body. But she was done with Chace Davenport. And this time, she really meant it.
***
But when Lindsay got back into bed, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. His smile. His body. His face. The way she could feel his stubble against her skin when he kissed her. She put her hands up to her face, slid her finger over her lip, remembering.
She wasn’t used to sleeping in the new house, and she tossed and turned restlessly, kicking at the sheets. Finally, she drifted off into an uneasy slumber.
When the first trace of light slipped over the trees, she decided to give up on getting any more sleep. The wood floors of the house were cold, and she rummaged through some boxes before finding a pair of purple-and-white striped fleece socks. She dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and her favorite sweatshirt, a soft grey one with the Temple University logo on the front.
By some miracle, she was able to find the coffeepot, and as the aroma of French roast filled the kitchen, the house started to feel more like home. She would get some work done on the book she was writing, she decided, and then spend the afternoon in town, poking around and picking up some area rugs. This was her new house, the house of her dreams, and she wasn’t going to let the fact that she had a womanizing asshole for a neighbor detract from that.
Feeling determined, she took a long sip of her coffee and gazed out the kitchen window. The early autumn sunlight brushed against the leaves, making the golds, reds, and coppers appear brighter.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash movement on the driveway next door. Chace. Coming out of his house with that blonde girl from last night.
He was wearing a pair of dark jeans, a white t-shirt, and a leather jacket. The girl (Michelle?) was wearing the same thing she had on last night, a ridiculously short skirt that was completely inappropriate for this time of year. She was hunched over in the cold, looking miserable as she climbed into Chace’s truck.
Better you than me, honey, Lindsay thought. A stab of sadness pierced her heart as she remembered how it had been last year. It was exactly this time of year when she’d met Chace for the first time. She closed her eyes, letting herself remember that night.
Then she forced herself to stop. It was nothing. What they had was nothing.
Besides, she’d worked too hard to forget him to let herself relapse.
She brought her coffee over to the table and booted up her computer.
***
An hour or so later, she was happily ensconced in a scene, when there was a knock on her door. She stopped with her coffee halfway to her lips, then crossed the kitchen and looked out the front window.
Oh, for the love of God. It was Chace. He was standing there on the front porch, a toolbox in hand. He was wearing the same outfit she’d seen him in his morning– the tight jeans, the crisp white t-shirt, the beat-up leather jacket. She looked around for a place to hide, wondering if she could slip back to the bedroom without him hearing.
He knocked again. “I know you’re in there,” he said. “Your car’s here.”
“So?” she said. “Maybe I got a ride somewhere. You don’t know.”
“Open the door.”
“What do you want?
” she asked, trying to make her voice sound annoyed, like she was in the middle of something very important. Which she was – her book was very important. If she didn’t get it done, she didn’t get paid. And if she didn’t get paid, she didn’t have money. And if she didn’t have money, she didn’t eat. Eating was very important. So obviously she didn’t have time to just be answering random knocks on the door in the middle of the morning.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to talk.” She knew she sounded like a baby, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let him in. Just because he lived next door didn’t mean he could just come waltzing over here any time he wanted. She wondered briefly if she should look into getting some kind of restraining order against him. Her sister Jamie had gotten one once, when an ex-boyfriend wouldn’t stop calling her. Apparently it was super easy, you just went down to the courthouse and filled out a form and voila, the person had to stay away from you. Easier than going to the DMV, even.
“We need to figure out what we’re going to do about that fence,” Chace said, and knocked again.
“What fence?” She peeked out the window.
“The broken down fence that Maximilian got through.” He was looking up at the sky in exasperation. His eyes shifted over to the window, and she quickly stepped back.
Damn. Had he seen her?
“Of course,” he went on, “if you want Maximilian to get hurt, we can just leave it the way it is. Or, better yet, I can get the county inspector down here to look at it, and then we’ll have to pay all sorts of fees and processing. Plus, once he gets down here, he’ll probably start poking around into all sorts of things that aren’t up to code.”
Lindsay thought about it. Obviously she didn’t want Maximilian to get hurt. But she also didn’t believe for a second that Chace was going to get an inspector down here.
That smacked of bullshit. It might be her first house, but she was pretty sure the county couldn’t order you to have a fence.
On the other hand, the fence was kind of an eyesore, and if Chace wanted to fix it, who was she to say no?
She sighed, then went to the door and opened it.
