by Brisa Starr
My parents are right. I’ve squandered my time. I have less than two years to get hitched and knock my wife up and have a baby.
No, Alyson is not a contender. She doesn’t even want a relationship… her attitude and lifestyle scream that.
I fire off a text message to Stephanie, and we decide that she’ll drive over tonight. From here, we’ll go into town for a drink. I won’t be out late. Looks like I’ll be opening up that bottle of tequila tonight after all. Alone.
4
Alyson
I set up my laptop at the wood table off the kitchen again. I use my teacher credentials to log into the online learning system where I teach math to 10-year-olds in a distance learning program. I’m a few minutes early, so I sit back and relax, enjoying the magnificent view out the window. I can see for miles, mostly desert and mountains, lots of saguaro cactus, scattered homes here and there, and the brilliant, cloudless, deep blue sky with the midday sun blazing high above. I feel hot just looking out there, even from where I sit in the cool air-conditioning.
I’m comfortable here. This house-sit, with the house so far from town, enhances the solitude of house-sitting I enjoy. It’s what I want and seek, and it’s why I up and sold all my possessions a couple years ago, back in Ohio.
I did this partly for the adventure; I’m not one to shy away from that. I’ve had my share of dares and crazy stunts. When I sold it all to live in other people’s houses and bounce around, all over the U.S. and Canada, one month at a time, some people thought I was being irresponsible. I don’t care. I love my life.
But if I’m honest with myself, the real motivation wasn’t adventure. It was protection. It was to protect my heart from ever being hurt again. I gave up on the white picket fence dream three years ago, and I never turned back. I still haven’t forgiven my parents for what they did. The cheating and deception! They broke my heart.
My parents were my heroes. I grew up thinking I had the perfect family, but it was a lie. Now, I refuse to let that happen to me. I reject love, hearts, flowers, and all that bullshit. I’ll never risk creating a whole life with someone, just to have it torn down or ripped away from me.
Life on the road suits me just fine. It protects me, and house-sitting keeps me safe because I’m always on to a fresh place. Like they say, a rolling stone gathers no moss.
My computer dings, and I see my students logging in. I join the class and see a bunch of smiling faces looking at me. My mood lightens and I smile back, waving, “Hey, guys!”
“Where are you this time, Teacher Alyson?” asks Isabella, one of my best students.
“I’m in Carefree, Arizona, for the summer. Have any of you ever been to Arizona?”
“Yes!” Jerome pipes up. “We saw scorpions!”
“Ah! Jerome, don’t freak me out!” I screech and inadvertently lift my feet up onto my chair. Everyone screeches along with me, and I take a few minutes to get the group of 10-year-olds settled down long enough to start their lesson on fractions.
Three hours later, my last class finishes, and I stand up to stretch. Rubbing my neck as I walk into the kitchen, I head to the refrigerator for a cold beer. After three hours with 10-year-olds, I’ve earned it. I adore them, but it’s tiring. I’m happy when I get to sign off and close the laptop.
I open my beer and take a refreshing swig. Ahhh. That’s what I need. I walk back to the table and sit down. My hands, with a mind of their own, open the laptop and Google “spider spirit animal.”
Why not?
Two minutes later, I’m intrigued and wiggling my eyebrows at what I’m reading on the screen. Apparently, someone with a spider for a spirit animal is both creative and resourceful. I believe that.
Ooh, but it gets even better… I sit up straighter in my chair and read, “The spider waits patiently for the perfect moment to catch its prey.” Yes, Adron totally fits this “waits patiently” description, and I wholeheartedly believe he has perfect timing in catching his prey. He seems precise, and keenly observant. I never know what he’s thinking, which bugs me like a mosquito buzzing in my ear.
There’s more… Creates intricate, delicate yet strong and beautiful things. I think about his music when I read this tidbit, and I wonder if it applies. My intuition says it does from the little I’ve heard. Intuition? Who am I, Auntie Jenna? I giggle out loud and take another drink of my cold beer.
Fifteen minutes of Googling later, and feeling like I know a little more about my closest neighbor, I walk into the bedroom for a much-needed shower. My room is in the front of the house, and it gives me a clear view of the driveway and casita. My shutters are still open from this morning so I can see out to the casita.
Holy shit.
I sure like what I see.
Adron is doing bodyweight exercises, shirtless, with the sun beating down on him. What a crazy dude. Isn’t he hot? I’m sure he is. Better question… doesn’t he care?
Hot damn. Literally and figuratively.
He drips sweat as he perfectly holds a crow position and the strength and intensity of the hold turns me on. My skin shivers with goosebumps. I just stand there looking at him. Wondering about him. He looks so fucking good and sexy, and I’m not feeling the least bit guilty about my voyeurism. Who wouldn’t watch this sexy spectacle?
He effortlessly shoots into a plank position and holds it. I look at my watch and start timing him. Three minutes later, still completely in control, not even a minor tremble, he stands up and stretches, the sweat dripping down his bare, chiseled chest, and the sunlight glistens off him. I’m breathing heavier now and think I’d love to be in the shower with him to wash that sweat off. His lean, hard body screams god, and I want to worship. As I watch him hold more positions, I wonder what we could do in bed, now that I know what strength he possesses. My pussy throbs with desire for him, and I reach down between my legs to see just how wet I am for him.
He finishes his workout and steps inside the casita, and I’m left there breathing heavily and wanting. Damn. Show’s over.
Well, time for my cold shower.
A few hours later, I’m in the kitchen scrounging for food, and I settle on a tuna fish sandwich with a bag of BBQ potato chips. I’m sitting at the counter gazing out the window, when there’s a knock at the front door. I pad over to it, and my heartbeat speeds up with each step, hoping it’s him. I open the door. It is him. Butterflies crash into my stomach, falling over one another as they pile in.
Lordy, he’s handsome. He’s in his usual attire, cargo shorts, underwear, and flip-flops. Nothing else. And I don’t mind one itty bit.
“Hey,” he says. Dang, even that one word is shaded with sultry huskiness.
I open the door all the way, and he gapes at me. I shift my stance under his stare. I’m excited he’s here because I’m bored, and, well, because he’s hot, and I’m interested in him, but I try playing it cool.
“Hey,” I say, and my cheeks suddenly get hot, remembering my body’s desire earlier this afternoon when I watched him work out.
Get a grip, Alyson.
I’m trying! But… he smells so good, like clove and rainstorms.
Realizing I’m standing in his way, I turn around and return to the kitchen, heading straight for my beer. He follows me and I say, “I was just eating a sandwich. What do ya need?”
“I came to get a steak and grill it on the patio. I won’t be in your way for long,” he says, and his eyes darken. He seems to be in a fouler mood than usual. I imagine it might bother most women, but I find his foul mood unleashes a deep desire in me. A strange longing I’ve never felt. It also makes me curious about him.
Elliott comes bounding in and tries to jump up on Adron, who suddenly cheers up and laughs as he turns his attention to the dog. “Hey, buddy, how ya doing? Is she taking good care of you?” he asks without looking at me.
Then, one of the cats enters the kitchen, the black one, Phoebe, and she jumps up on the counter, wanting attention from him, too. Pussy competition. I smirk at my jo
ke. What’s the deal with the animals liking him so much, anyway? Aren’t they supposed to be good judges of character? Well, he can’t be that bad if he’s nice to animals, at least the four-legged kind.
Hmm… I can be on four legs.
I blush again.
Geez, what is my deal?
He looks up at me and walks over to the cat and scruffs her behind her ear. Phew, I don’t think he heard my thoughts. Phoebe leans into it, bending her head firmly into his hand and starts to purr, and I’m jealous. Of a cat.
There’s something about the site of this half-naked guy with black hair and deep blue, sinful eyes, scruffing a black cat. It’s hypnotic as hell. I watch for a moment and then turn back to my tuna sandwich. I sneak a look up at him again, and he’s watching me. There’s a moment, and we connect again. Something deep within each of us. It’s foreign. I’d claim it’s our souls, but I don’t believe in that shit.
I don’t have time to think beyond that anyway because he interrupts the connection. Good. He turns around and opens the refrigerator. I see his spider tattoo again, and it makes me think of what I learned about his spirit animal. He takes a steak out and seasons it with salt and pepper. Then, he strolls over to a cabinet on the other side of the kitchen and grabs a bottle of red wine and a wineglass.
I’m on my second beer with my sandwich and chips, and he eyes them and raises that eyebrow again.
“What?” I say, chewing, and take a swig of my beer.
“Is that your dinner?”
“Maybe.” I grab one of my bottles of hot sauce and douse my sandwich with it. Defiantly. OK, maybe more hot sauce than I intended. I take a too-big bite of it.
“I see you do like hot sauce.”
My mouth full of tuna and hot sauce, I say, “Yup,” not caring much that he sees a mouthful of food, mid-chew.
He shakes his head at me, and graces me with a tiny smirk as he opens a drawer to get out a foil cutter and wine bottle opener. “I’d offer you some wine, but I see you’re all set,” he says with a nod toward my beer.
“Yeah, I’ll stick with beer. Thanks.” I take another drink, admiring the site of him, and enjoying his dark, smoky voice just as much.
What is this weird thing between us? I can’t put my finger on it. It’s like we’re both deliberate, challenging, and electric in each other’s presence, yet not willing to be overly nice or pleasant. Deliberately pushing each other’s buttons. Or trying to, anyway. At least, it seems that way to me.
Fuck it. I go out on a limb, as usual, and I want to push this weird situation further. So, I say to him, “I don’t know why, but I think I like you.”
He considers me in silence for a moment, his gaze piercing. Ahh… good. The light shines back behind his eyes, but he still says nothing. I watch him as he heads out to the patio where the grill is and turns it on. He even walks with a sexy and confident, graceful gait, and I appreciate his tight ass as he leaves the kitchen, even if he didn’t respond to my statement.
I was hoping he’d come back in, but he stays out on the patio while the grill heats up. I quickly assess how I look, and although I’m casual in a tank top and short shorts, I probably could use a little more makeup. I lift my arms to sneak a quick sniff just in case I’m stinky. Nope. All good there.
Well, I might not be all glam with extensions halfway down my back – and I’m on the shorter side, though I prefer “petite” – but I can hold my own. I get my fair share of attention and flirting from men. This guy, though. Adron. I’d like to know more… more of his body, his mind, and why his attitude is so damn dark. I’m not getting the chance though.
His back is facing me through the window, and I take a moment to study the tattoo better. The spider is intricate and detailed, sexy, and dark. Its style is hard to pin down – it’s serious art, but not like any tattoo I’ve ever seen.
Am I too interested?
He comes back in and grabs his steak and says, “It’s a nice sunset out there.” He turns to walk out the door and puts the steak on the grill.
Was that an invitation? He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I hop off the barstool and grab my beer.
I asked him earlier what he does, and he finally shared that he does something with data analysis, but he said nothing about music. And when he answered the door earlier, and I peeked inside the casita, I saw a massive music set up, so it’s clearly more than just a hobby. I’ll dig deeper.
“So, what’s with all the music?”
He pauses, reading me. “I write songs. I also record and mix for other artists.”
“I heard you playing the other day. I thought it was beautiful,” I admit, meeting his eyes.
He looks away, out at the view in front of us. “It’s what I do when I come here every summer. I get away from everything so I can dive into it without distractions.”
It sounds like he prefers alone time, and I’m not surprised. He turns back to focus on his steak, and I get a better appreciation of his profile. He has a strong nose and a lean jawline. His biceps, although not overly huge, are strong and dense as hell, and they match the rest of his lean, ripped body. After seeing him hold his weight in those gymnast positions earlier today, I can only imagine that he’d have no problem pinning me up against the wall and fucking me standing up. That’s always been a fantasy of mine. I smile as I imagine him doing just that.
“Woo,” I say a little too loudly, the fantasy in my mind starting to make me tingle. He hears me and turns his head to look over at me. I look away. “Um. Yeah, great sunset.”
After a minute, I ask, “Only piano?”
“I play guitar, too,” he says and turns his steak over. The sizzle hits the air. He looks over at me and continues, “Remember when I said my Auntie is a bit psychic?”
“Yeah.” I step closer, eager to hear what sounds like a delightful story to come, and eager for another sniff of his scent – but all I smell is steak. Well, that’ll do.
“When my mom was pregnant with me, my Auntie knew I was gonna be into music, so she bought a guitar and tucked it away with a Happy 13th Birthday card and a section of the newspaper dating when she bought it. She knew exactly when my interest in music would hit.”
He turns back to the grill, and I’m fascinated with his story. He continues, “She predicted it to the day... I turned 13 and told my mom I wanted to play guitar. My Auntie came over that night with a guitar for me. It didn’t surprise my mom. It surprised the hell out of me, but it shouldn’t have. She was always doing crazy shit like that when I was growing up.”
He turns off the grill and plates his steak, having only cooked it briefly. He goes back into the kitchen for his wine, and I follow him inside.
“That’s a good story,” I say, and I pick up my plate from the counter to wash it.
“Yeah, I got into playing the piano, too, and I fell madly in love with music. I knew I wanted to be a songwriter when I grew up. It pissed off my parents because they had other plans for me. I attempted to placate them, though. I did my part and got my computer science degree, so I’d have a decent day job.”
“I’d say,” I reply sarcastically. “You have a decent car, too,” I joke.
He nods in acknowledgment but says nothing more. I know tech pays well, and I’m sure some of them can afford a $180,000 sports car, but Adron is only in his late twenties, and I’m curious how he could afford it. Maybe he had stock options from a startup. Or maybe he secretly launders money for a drug cartel… that would almost seem to fit. Or maybe – the least sexy explanation of all – maybe it was a gift from his parents.
He takes a sip of his wine and studies me. He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something and decides against it. He cuts into his steak, and I see that it’s so rare it’s almost blue.
“I think I saw your meat still twitching.”
“I like it a little bloody,” he says, gazing at me.
I swallow hard and then say, “Sammy sent me back here with quite a few steaks. Is that all you eat?�
�
“Pretty much. Doesn’t get much better than a great cut like this and a glass of wine. Keeps it simple.”
He likes to keep things simple. Noted.
“Do you drink beer,” I ask, mildly curious.
“Rarely. I prefer wine and top shelf tequila.”
Again, simple.
I snort. “The bottom stuff isn’t good enough for you. I should’ve guessed.”
He looks at me flatly, but there’s a glitter in his eyes, albeit a dark one, and my heart rate accelerates. Do I amuse him? Do I annoy him? You wouldn’t think so, when it seems like he’s undressing me with his eyes. The butterflies, never having left my stomach, crash around inside me like bumper cars.
He finishes his steak and takes his plate to the sink. He corks the wine bottle. “You’re welcome to finish this wine.” He moves closer to me and inhales, like he’s trying to smell me, and then continues, “Well, I’ve got a date tonight.” He turns and walks out of the kitchen, leaving me there. Wanting more of this very intriguing, very sexy man, but with those last few words crashing my hopes.
5
Alyson
A date? WTF?
I did not expect that. Though I don’t know why. I mean, look at him, for Christ’s sake. Of course he has a date. He just seems like a loner who wouldn’t have a date, but who am I to say anything? I know nothing about him, other than he’s super hot, and super strong, and super sexy, and has a super fast car.
An hour later, I’m lying on my bed, scrolling through Instagram with my eyes half-closed. Boredom and I aren’t what I’d call simpatico, and seeing everyone’s uber happy faces in their updates makes me wonder if everyone really is that happy. I hardly ever post anything except to update my family and let them know I’m in a new location for a house-sit. What does that say about me? That I’m honest, or that my life is sad?
