1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Nine

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  Now, Luke stood in front of her desk with puppy dog eyes and a young boy’s leashed excess energy. Winter sucked. Sports were nonexistent, the holidays were over, and he was already bored with his new video games and stuff from Christmas. She kept waiting for him to invite some friends over, but he hadn’t seemed to make any connections yet. A few times, she spotted a small bunch of boys out front talking to Luke while he waited for the bus. She didn’t want to ruin anything by being his pushy, overbearing mother, so Ella kept quiet and hoped he’d make his own way.

  She gave him a smile and ticked down the list of available items to entertain a ten-year-old. “Wanna see what’s playing at the movies?”

  “Nah. They just have lame stuff for kids.”

  “You are a kid,” she teased. Her fingers itched to ruffle his cowlick but he was becoming a bit more standoffish with her treating him like a baby. “You too old now for Disney?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Can we go to GameStop?”

  She raised a brow. He gave a defeated sigh.

  “Wanna bake cookies? I have some leftover holiday ingredients. You can try to bake the biggest cookie in the world.”

  He seemed to consider the option, though it was obvious he wondered if it was too babyish. She upped the ante. “Then we can walk to the Chinese restaurant and get soup and eggrolls. We’ll eat backward. Dessert first, then dinner.”

  “You still have the sprinkles and green M&M’s?”

  “I do. But you better be prepared. I’m going to win the cookie challenge. We each get a tray and no peeking until we’re done. Deal?”

  “Deal!”

  She cleaned up her work and headed to the kitchen. Though their apartment wasn’t huge with a big yard and fancy furniture, Ella had made it home. Using her knack for brightening up rooms with accessories and a fresh coat of paint, the two bedrooms were cozy and peaceful. The kitchen was big enough so she purchased a mobile island and topped it with mesh baskets full of bright fruit and dried herbs. Pictures crowded the walls with her favorite sayings from poets, and she’d upgraded the low utility light to a pretty Tuscan chandelier that brought pop to the room. The farm table and benches were set by the big window to get the most light. Hand towels beautifully stitched hung by the stove and dishwasher.

  She tuned to one of her playlists on her iPhone and cranked the volume. Queen ground out Another One Bites the Dust and she slipped out two cookie sheets while Luke pulled all the ingredients out of the cupboards. They belted out the lyrics in perfect tune and began kneading dough into cool shapes in an attempt to dazzle the other.

  Contentment flowed through her veins as she relaxed into her typical Saturday night. She pushed back her hair with sticky fingers and rainbow sprinkles flew up in the air, getting stuck in her sweater.

  The lights went out.

  Everything ground to a stop except the music, which kept blaring loud. She reached over and turned off the music, switching quickly to the flashlight app.

  “Mom?”

  “Don’t panic, sweetheart. Probably just a brownout or something. Let me get some extra flashlights just in case.”

  “This is kind of creepy.”

  She felt around in the dark for her famous junk drawer that contained so many weird parts she probably could’ve built a nuclear bomb. “It’s a nighttime adventure. Remember when I used to take you on those walks when you were little?”

  “The moon had to be full, you always said. Even though I worried about werewolves.”

  “I told you they don’t exist.”

  “But you’re afraid of vampires.”

  “Well, I think they do exist. That’s why I keep tons of garlic around at all times. I read Dracula three times, you know.”

  That got her son to laugh, and Ella finally found another flashlight. She was just going to brave going into the basement to check the circuit breaker when the doorbell rang.

  Her heart pounded. She didn’t know anyone to drop by on them, and she’d heard of strange things happening during brownouts. Swallowing, she eased over to the window and peeked through.

  Connor Dunkle stood on her doorstep.

  With a rush of relief, she flung open the door and held back a gasp.

  My God, he looked good.

  Struck mute for a moment, she gave in to impulse and hungrily took him in. Dressed in a button down navy blue shirt that clung to his broad chest, a casual jacket, and dark-washed jeans, he simmered with delicious masculine testosterone. Usually a hint of stubble clung to his square jaw, but tonight he was clean-shaven and smelled of spicy cloves. His thick dirty blond hair fell in waves over his forehead, brushing his ears, and those sea blue eyes framed with thick lashes struck her mute for a few seconds. He towered over her in a mass of rock-hard muscle, giving her the impression of both strength and protectiveness.

  He was a walking, talking specimen of everything a woman dreams of in a man. Both Hemsworth brothers mixed with Daniel Craig and a sprinkle of old-fashioned Redford. Her poor body roared into overdrive and she felt a damp rush of moisture between her thighs.

  God, she was acting like a sex-starved teen. So. Embarrassing.

  Finally, he spoke. Even his damn voice was gravel and satin mixed together in a symphony to the ears. “I saw your lights went out. Looks like some of the other houses on the block are affected. You okay?”

  He was checking on her? To be nice or to get her to agree to extra credit? “Yes, we’re fine. Thank you.”

  “Did you flip the breaker? Sometimes these apartments get overloaded and you need to reset it. That’s what I had to do with mine.”

  “I haven’t gone down to the basement yet.”

  “I’ll help you out.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to.”

  His gaze sharpened on her face, and his jaw clenched. Fascinated, she studied his features, noticing the air of irritation that briefly shone. “I want to, Ella. I won’t stay. I just don’t like the idea of you and Luke alone in the dark.”

  She flushed and stumbled back. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just used to doing things for myself. I’m sorry, come in.”

  He walked inside and she realized it was a mistake.

  In her home, he owned the small space, filling the air with a masculine presence she wanted to sink in and savor. It had been so long since she had a man close. Even though he was only here to check her electricity. Oh, my God, she was so pathetic. He glanced around in the dark and took out his own phone, turning on the flashlight app.

  Luke came out of the kitchen, highlighted in the sudden glare of light. “Mom? What’s going on?”

  “It’s Connor Dunkle from next door,” he said. “How’s it going, Luke?”

  Her son’s voice hardened. “Fine.”

  “Good. I’m going to check the basement and see if I can get those lights on. Is that okay?”

  Connor didn’t move, as if waiting for permission from her son as the man in the house. Luke seemed to consider his words, standing up straighter in the beam of light. “Yeah, that’s okay.” He paused. “Can I help?”

  “Absolutely. I could use a hand. Basement here?” He motioned down the hall toward the door on the left. Ella nodded. “Same as mine. We’ll yell if we need you.”

  They disappeared downstairs, and she tried to re-gather her composure. Why was she nervous? So silly. He was just being a friendly neighbor and helping out a single mom. Clatters rang in the air. Probably moving all the storage stuff to get to the panel. She really needed to organize better down there. Ella waited, keeping her light trained down the hall, and suddenly the electricity flickered back on.

  She heard Luke’s whoop and smiled. She forgot the simple things that gave children pride. He really didn’t have the advantage of tinkering with tools or cars or talking sports, though she tried to keep her knowledge up to date and be both mom and dad.

  They both reappeared with pleased expressions. Connor was talking to her son. “Next time, check the breaker first. Now you know which one sin
ce we tagged it.”

  “Got it,” Luke said seriously.

  “Hey, you guys were making cookies? Looks like fun.”

  She glanced at the mess in the kitchen and wrapped her arms across her chest. “We know how to rock a Saturday night. Thanks for helping out.”

  “No problem. Oh, man, I love M&M’s!” His face lit up like a kid, and Ella laughed. “Can I have one?”

  “You can’t eat just one,” Luke said. “Here.” He gave him a handful. “I like the greens.”

  “Blue is better.”

  “They taste the same,” Ella pointed out.

  They both stared at her in disbelief. Connor rolled his eyes. “Women.”

  Luke grinned. “Mom, I need to check my DS. I had it charging and I don’t want to lose my stuff.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  He bounded up the stairs, leaving them alone in a messy kitchen. Ella looked at Connor’s perfect appearance and tried not to wince at the thought of her image. Dough in her hair, mismatched socks on her feet, and yoga pants. “Umm, thanks again,” she offered.

  “No problem. Been a long time since someone baked me cookies. Sounds like a perfect night.”

  She looked at him with suspicion. Was he making fun of her? “They’re easy now. Precut dough, one sheet, and an oven. Not too mysterious anymore.”

  Ella caught a flash of pain reflected in those gorgeous eyes before it was quickly masked. “Moms bake them the best. If I was Luke, I’d be pretty happy right now. You’re a good mom.”

  Pleasure ran through her but she fought it off. “How do you know?”

  He shrugged. “Just do.”

  “Thanks. You look nice. Going somewhere fun?”

  “Got a date.”

  “Oh, that’s nice.” Why did she keep saying the word nice? And why were her palms suddenly sweating and her heart beating fast? She was in her own house, for goodness sakes. “I’m sure you’ll have a good time.”

  “Yeah. Rather be here, though. Bake some cookies, hang out and watch a movie.”

  She laughed then. “If you had my life, that would be your routine every weekend. Somehow, I think yours is more glamorous.”

  That assessing gaze swung back to her, taking in her disheveled appearance. She fought a blush, refusing to apologize for being real in her own place. “Have you dated since you split up with Luke’s father?”

  He seemed surprised by his direct question. She was even more surprised when she answered. “No. It’s hard. I wanted to make sure Luke was ready, and then I just got too busy. I wouldn’t leave him alone at night anyway.”

  “I’d watch him for you.”

  She jerked back. Blinked. “You’d watch Luke for me while I went on a date?”

  “Sure. We’re neighbors. He seems like an easy kid. I know it must be hard, so I’d do you a favor.”

  It all came clear then. Her lips pursed in disapproval. “Oh, I get it. A favor for a favor, huh? I give you an extra credit assignment or a grade boost and you watch my son?”

  She expected guilt or denial, but pure disgust flicked out at her in waves. “That’s a crappy thing to say. Why are you so damn prickly all the time? I’m just trying to be nice.”

  “But you want me to give you an extra credit assignment?” she pushed.

  He threw up his hands. “Hell, yes! I want to pass your class. But I’m not doing nice stuff for you just to get a better grade.” He raked his fingers through his hair and she watched the strands settle right back in perfect disarray. “I may have thought that before, okay? But I swear it has nothing to do with your class. It’s separate. We’re neighbors, I respect you, and the offer stands.”

  Warmth flooded through her. He was honest. He seemed nice to her son. And even if he was screwing up with her class, he was open to do the work necessary to pass and graduate.

  She had the perfect project for him.

  Ella nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll send you the details of the project in your e-mail on Monday.”

  “Really?” He stared at her with suspicion. “You’re not setting me up or something, are you?”

  She smiled. “No. To keep it fair, I’ll offer it up to anyone else in the class who wants to bring up their grade.”

  He studied her face for a while. “It’s going to be bad, isn’t it?”

  “Let’s just say you’ll learn a lot.”

  “God help me,” he muttered. “But I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  She winced. “If you want to boost your grade, stop using clichés in speech and written language. It’s unnecessary.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She shook her head at his mocking tone, walked to the door, and opened it. He yelled good-bye to Luke and she stepped out with him to study the block. “Looks like everyone is back on. Thanks again for—”

  “Connor!”

  She turned her head. A gorgeous redhead strolled down the street, her three-inch Michael Kors boots clicking on the pavement. She was wearing one of those trendy hats that made Ella look ridiculous, along with clinging leather pants, a leather jacket, and some sparkly T-shirt. Connor raised his hand in the air.

  “Hi, darlin’! Be right there.”

  The model nodded agreeably, crossed her ankles with easy grace, and waited like a trained dog.

  Connor smiled. “Sorry. That’s my date.”

  Ella blinked. Together, they’d look more dazzling than any Ken and Barbie couple on the planet. “You didn’t pick her up?”

  “No. She wanted to pick me up.”

  Of course she did. Ella looked back and forth between them. Irritation scraped her nerve endings. “And you let her? Don’t you think that’s rude?”

  He shrugged. “No, women like to be independent.”

  “She’s waiting for you outside, in the cold, like a trained seal? You think that’s independent?”

  “Sure. I let her pick the restaurant, too.”

  “Is she also going to pay the bill?” Ella asked sarcastically.

  Connor looked affronted. “I always pay. Look, women like to call the shots. Give them attention and some compliments and they thrive. It’s simple. Not rocket science.”

  “Do you always date beautiful women?” she asked slowly.

  “Sure. We both get what we need, and things are kept...simple.”

  Coldness washed over her, erasing the slight glow from seconds before. Connor Dunkle was an ass. He treated women like playthings, concentrating on the surface, rarely taking time to dive underneath. The quick pang of hurt surprised her, but she buried it and got real. Yes, he was a sexually attractive man that sent her hormones on a roller coaster ride, but he was immature, and there had never been a question of anything more between them then professor/student or neighbor to neighbor.

  “Understood.” She separated herself by backing into her warm, safe house, alone with her son. “Have fun.”

  After she shut the door, Ella couldn’t help but peeking out the window. The leggy female walked toward him, pressing a kiss to his lips, laughing at something he said. They both climbed into a low-slung red sports car like the fabulous couple they were and tore off into the night for their glamorous date.

  Depression threatened but she fought it back. She absolutely refused to let herself feel bad that she wasn’t out on the town, pretending to be someone she wasn’t with a man who couldn’t care less.

  She raised her voice to call her son and concentrated on cookies.

  Chapter Seven

  “A divorce is like an amputation: you survive it, but there’s less of you.”—Margaret Atwood

  Connor hated Valentine’s Day.

  It was the only holiday structured toward the demise of men.

  He muttered under his breath, pulling on his winter jacket. In the middle of the darkest month of the year, society created it for commercial reasons only. They got to jack up the price of flowers, chocolate, and dinner bills in the name of love. A complete breeding ground of discontent for women not getting w
hat they wanted, while the poor bastards they were with scratched their head in confusion.

  Another great reason not to have a relationship.

  Or maybe he was just in a bad mood because he still hadn’t gotten laid.

  Why hadn’t he slept with Tracey? The date had been perfect. Dinner, cocktails, flirting. Her offer to join him wasn’t wrapped up in heavy analysis or layers of meaning. Yet, as he opened his mouth to answer, “Hell, yes!” he told her it wasn’t a good night but he’d call.

  His date had ended with him and his hand. Not the image he’d pictured.

  Something was wrong with him. Tracey was gorgeous, and had proved to be a good lover in the past. He had a little black book that bulged with numbers and he still wasn’t using it to call anyone. Maybe his overworked mental state was affecting his drive for sex? Usually, he looked at a pair of perfect boobs and was ready to go. Lately, he got lukewarm.

  Except when he was around Ella. A woman he was completely not attracted to, yet his body responded to like a switch had been flicked. A woman who barely allowed an inch of naked skin to show. That was plain scary.

  He remembered what she looked like when she opened the door. A total mess. Yet, instead of focusing on the cookies in her hair or her misshapen sweater, he’d noticed her lack of glasses and hypnotic eyes. He’d noticed the scent of sugar and candy, and her pretty bare feet with pink toenails. He’d noticed the tumble of luscious dark waves that spilled over her shoulders. He’d noticed the clinging Lycra emphasizing her lean calves.

  He was nuts. Around the bend. Loco. All the clichés Ella hated.

  He grabbed his gloves and tried not to think of her. Since that night, she’d sent over the extra credit project, and Connor had wondered if it was worth it. It was as bad as he imagined.

  Woolf. Brontë. Austen. Not separate, but all together in one big mishmash of readings and a big fat paper due at the end of the semester. She was punishing him, and he knew it. He dipped a toe in the water—another damn cliché—and began perusing A Room of One’s Own by Woolf and was stopped cold.