Walking Dick

by Candi Heart

  What the...? Am I actually going to spend the day with him, playing tour guide to my mouth-watering neighbor?

  The second I stepped inside, I slammed the door behind me and locked it for good measure. I released Dick after giving him a punishing swat on the haunches, and then yanked out my phone to stare at the secret picture I’d snapped behind the slats of the fence.

  “Unbelievable.”

  It didn’t seem possible that any human being could look that good. He had everything going for him: the sculpted body, the careless hair, and those piercing eyes. It was like living next to the coverboy from some romance novel.

  With a little grin on my face, I clicked the button to send the photo off to Nathaniel. “Anticipating meltdown in five, four, three, two...”

  Ring!

  I answered with a smirk, twirling my long hair in the mirror as my best friend in the world silently hyperventilated on the other line. “Oh, hi, Nate. What a surprise.”

  “Don’t you ‘hi, Nate’ me, woman!” he exclaimed, still trying to catch his breath. “Who the heck is this guy? Is it a freeze-frame from a movie, or—”

  “He’s the guy I was telling you about,” I interrupted, “that one who helped me save the dog outside the coffee shop.” I then exercised an intentional dramatic pause, to let it all sink in. “The same guy... who happens to be my new next-door neighbor.”

  The phone went dead quiet, the calm before the storm.

  “What!? Girl, you gotta be playin’ me. When did a Calvin Klein model jump off the billboard into our neighborhood and—”

  “Try not to be too jealous, sweetie.” I hopped up onto the bathroom counter, still donning a wicked smile. “What can I say? Good things happen to good people. What am I always telling you about—”

  “Stop! Enough!” he shrieked. “This is too important!” I could practically see him pacing his apartment, pulling the phone occasionally so he could gawk some more. “Tell me everything, from the very beginning, and leave nothing out!”

  I did my very best to recount the whole story to him, starting with the renegade squirrel and Dick’s descent into canine madness and ending with my impromptu invitation to take my new neighbor out on the town. His hateful girlfriend had called him Matt, but in all the fuss with the dogs, the two of us had somehow neglected to properly introduce ourselves. For all I knew, Matt was a nickname, short for Doormat, which she clearly tried to make of him.

  “And that’s about it.” I quickly concluded my epic tale, well aware that I was under strict time constraints. “I have to hurry and get dressed and cleaned up, then head back over there to take him out on the town.”

  Nate was incredibly quiet the whole time, hanging on my every word. That was rather remarkable, considering how unbearably talkative the guy normally was. I secretly suspected that throughout my whole story, he was gazing at the photo, dewy-eyed. Finally, he muttered, “Okay, so where do I fit in?”

  Typical Nate, I thought, surprised he didn’t say it sooner. “You don’t,” I answered, with a roll of my eyes. I clicked the speakerphone button so I could continue undressing, peeling off my muddy, sticky clothes to prepare for a quick shower. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go. “I’m still covered in eight layers of filth, and he’s over there waiting.”

  “Oh no you don’t, young lady!” he declared, amazingly making the entire room echo with the remark, even over the phone. “We need to discuss this. Put me on speaker!”

  “You already are,” I whined, bouncing from one foot to the other in front of the mirror, “but I have to hurry, Nate! We can talk later. I’m sure I’ll have more to tell after—”

  “No, we need to talk right now!” he cried. “Otherwise, you won’t get your later. I can promise you that!”

  I let out a longsuffering sigh and climbed into the shower. “Wow. Theatrical much? You seriously need to talk to your doctor about upping that Xanax dosage and—”

  “What are you wearing?” he asked quickly, too wound up for our usual games.

  “Right now?” I gazed down at my naked body as I squirted a dollop of strawberry body wash into my hand and began slathering it over my legs, removing the mud. “Why, Nathaniel, you surprise me. I didn’t think you’d be into—”

  “This isn’t funny!” he screeched. “Aly, you do realize what’s up here, don’t you? This is the only opportunity either of us is ever going to have to spend time with someone who looks like that. I’m not going to let you waste it on some throwaway outfit that you think is cute but really makes you look like a reject caterer on a cruise ship! Now, I ask again, what are you wearing?”

  “Well, gee, I thought I’d start with overalls and a flannel shirt, then—”

  There was a strangled shriek, and I was sure it was followed by my best friend melting away like that witch in Oz. “You’re killing me here, Aly! Listen if it doesn’t work out between you two, can you put in a good word for me?”

  “Gotta go. Bye!”

  I hung up, leaving Nathaniel to suffer a coronary on the other side, and quickly toweled myself dry. Nate’s Devil Wears Prada impersonation aside, he might have stumbled into an actual point. What am I going to wear? It’s not like this is a date, right? I knew it was far from it. The guy already had the most beautiful girlfriend I’d ever seen, and even if that wasn’t the case, I knew there was no way someone like him would ever be interested in someone like me. Still, I wanted to look nice, if for no other reason than to rescue my rapidly plummeting self-esteem.

  Overcome with an overwhelming wave of anxiety, I raced down the hall and threw open my closet doors. It was a rather anticlimactic move, given my running start. There was simply nothing in there that screamed fashion, let alone sexy. To be frank, there was nothing in there that even screamed cute. As a dateless dog-walker, those adjectives were always low priority on my shopping list.

  That wasn’t always the case for me though. Back in high school, I had as many cleavage-revealing tops and too-tiny skirts as the next girl, always pushing the limits of the antiquated dress code in the school handbook. Those days ended quickly, though, when I began to put on some weight in college. At that point, all my skirts became too tiny for other reasons, so I traded in the minis for jeans and the bustiers for blouses and sweaters. I didn’t exactly feel ugly; I just lost all confidence in my effect on the opposite sex. My online diet club, as well as my inspirational Post-Its, was supposed to change all that.

  Why do you even care? You said it yourself, that this isn’t a date.

  My face screwed up in a thoughtful frown as I considered the thought, then quickly rejected and dismissed it outright. It wasn’t technically a date, but I still had to at least attempt to bridge the physical gap between us. Nate’s right. When will I ever have another chance?

  It was then, like some sign, that a piece of red fabric caught my eye, and a little smile spread up my face.

  All right, Alana. You’re gonna be a lady in red, and it’s time to get to work!

  About twenty minutes later, I was standing in front of my own door, looking into the mirror and giving myself a fidgeting onceover before taking the plunge and heading over to Matt’s. Even as nervous as I was, I had to admit that I looked pretty darn good.

  In the end, the little red sundress won the fashion battle. It was the kind of thing I could picture his girlfriend in, a frock some spaghetti-thin, waifish chick would wear for a Vogue cover, but I filled it out rather nicely with my curves. The straps twisted up into a summer halter, and the hem stopped just below my knees. I paired it with some strappy sandals I found at a yard sale with Nathaniel a couple weeks prior, and I let my hair, now washed and conditioned and free of sod, spill in little waves down my back. Maybe a little curvier than necessary, I thought as I gave the bodice an extra tug, but still good enough for a neighborhood tour.

  I was just dabbing on a little lip gloss when a sudden knock on the door made me almost jump out of my skin. I dropped the tube in surprise and yanked the door open, hoping against hope
that it wasn’t some last-minute client who needed a sitter for the weekend.

  “Hey,” Matt said, his face lighting up with a bright smile. He followed the greeting with an automatic apology. “Sorry if I, uh... I just wasn’t sure if you planned to come back to my house or if I should come over here and meet you, so...”

  “No, it’s fine, just... perfect timing,” I said quickly, flashing a smile in return. “I was about to head over there. Let me just grab my purse and—”

  No!

  My feet flew out from beneath me as I stepped onto my fallen lip gloss and careened forward, letting out a terrified banshee wail. Bracing myself for impact, I threw my hands up as the floor came swiftly up to meet me, but that impact never came. Instead, two strong arms caught me as easily as if I weighed no more than a feather.

  I looked up in shock to see Matt’s face just inches from mine. He was holding me in a low dip, like the kind at the end of a waltz or in one of those old musicals, the preamble to some kind of cinematic kiss. His lips had parted in surprise, and while I stared into his eyes, I realized he was looking just intently into mine.

  “Are you okay?” he panted out in surprise.

  It was an interesting question, and it took me a second to consider my answer. On one hand, I was being cradled in the air by the most beautiful man who’d ever graced the planet. His hands were wrapped tightly around the bare skin on my back, his lips just a few inches from mine. It took everything in me to stop myself from pulling out my phone and snapping another picture for Nathaniel, right then and there.

  On the other hand, I was mortified. He had seen so much of my clumsy, speechless, muddy, and trespassing side. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I was fairly sure that my dress had flown up in the tumble, clear up around my ribcage, revealing my entire southern hemisphere.

  “Yeah,” I answered breathlessly, “I-I’m fine.”

  He held me there for another second, as if to examine me for himself, then finally lifted me gently to my feet. I hastily yanked my dress, and he took the moment to graciously avert his eyes by picking up my errant lip gloss. “Sultry girl,” he said conversationally.

  I froze in place, certain I was going to faint right there on the spot. All the color drained out of my face, and I stared back at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry. What?”

  His grin faded in an instant as he glanced up and registered my look of horror. “Your lipstick.” His face paled, and he panicked, as if he couldn’t backpedal fast enough. “I wasn’t saying, uh...”

  “Oh.” My spine just about collapsed in relief as I hurried to snatch the little tube of naughtily named cosmetics out of his hands. “Right. Of course. I don’t know who thinks that stuff up.” Will the horror never stop with this guy? First a squirrel hunt, and now X-rated makeup! I thought. “It’s actually lip gloss,” I retorted, vowing to throw the darn thing away the second I got back home.

  He stared at me for a split second, as if to make sure I was really past our little stumble, and then a sudden grin curved the corners of his lips. “There’s a difference?”

  I didn’t know what was cuter, the fact that he didn’t know, or the fact that he felt the need to ask. Even if he hadn’t told me his name yet, there was something so unguarded about him, something constantly surprising. “Lipstick is colored. Lip gloss is... well, glossy.” I tucked my hair behind my ears and donned a self-conscious smile. “Plus, lip gloss tastes good, like peach, cherry, cinnamon. I even saw this sugar cookie kind once.”

  He cocked his head to the side, pursing his lips to hide a smile. “So that particular shade tastes like, um...”

  My eyes closed in a grimace, but I felt the inexplicable need to follow through. “A sultry girl? Yes.”

  That left both of us speechless for a moment; even Barbara Walters, Larry King, or the best conversationalist in the world couldn’t have steered that ship back in a hurry.

  Finally, still wearing that same twinkling grin, he held out his hand. “You know, it occurred to me after you left that I never even got your name. I’m Matt.”

  I shook his hand shyly, glad to be back to cordial hospitality after he just had his arms wrapped around my bare skin. “I’m Alana, Alana Catson.”

  “Alana Catson,” he repeated, giving my hand a gentle squeeze, “it’s nice to meet you.”

  We pulled away quickly, and I scooped up my purse, blushing a little and feeling like a fish out of water, right there in my own foyer. Is this how the beautiful people act all the time? All these intense stares and lingering handshakes? Holding people in the occasional dip? How is it possible that Sex and the City had failed to prepare me for this moment?

  “Likewise,” I answered as casually as possible, terrified that he might interpret anything more as flirting. He was the kind of guy who surely had women coming on to him all the time, and I refused to be one of those airheaded, googly-eyed fangirls who couldn’t hold a conversation with him. “Well, now that the formal introductions are out of the way, are you ready to go?”

  He nodded silently and took a step back so I could slip past him and step onto the porch.

  As I walked out, I noticed that he had changed as well, not that I would have complained if he’d opted to remain shirtless for the rest of our time together. Now, his perfect body was garbed in standard city wear: butt-hugging faded jeans, a dark, physique-fitting shirt, and a pair of sexy shades sticking out of his back pocket. He looked like a spokesperson for the summer wear line of some big New York fashion conglomerate, as if at any moment, a photographer would spring out of the bushes to put him into context.

  “You look nice,” he said lightly as I shut the door behind me.

  I glanced over my shoulder in surprise, but he was already staring toward the lawn. It was a habit of his, those unexpected bursts of honesty, but I knew the compliment would keep my head spinning for the rest of the day. “Thanks.” I locked the door unnecessarily and walked with him down to the sidewalk. “I decided to leave the slippers at home. Maybe I wouldn’t trip over my own two feet if I’d wear them more often!”

  He chuckled under his breath as we strolled together into town.

  Chapter 13

  IT WAS GORGEOUS OUT, the perfect day for a tour. As we walked, we talked about all sorts of things, occasionally pausing to stare up at the towering oaks and warm ourselves in the gentle breeze. Matt made me laugh, and he was shockingly easy to talk to. I loved that he genuinely listened to me. We discussed our favorite movies and TV shows, sports teams, and music, as well as our hobbies and the things we enjoyed on our days off.

  Every now and then, he glanced over at me, and his eyes locked with mine. We shared quick smiles before returning to our walk. I didn’t really know what to make of that, but it couldn’t have felt more natural. In a strange way, it was exactly what I needed.

  “So, uh... the tour...” I cleared my throat with an air of great importance, and caught his grin in the corner of my eye. “That’s Tony Franklin’s auto repair shop over there. Don’t ever take your car there unless you can live without it for at least the next few months.”

  Matt laughed quietly. “Duly noted.”

  “Mary Wescott owns that floral shop. I swear the woman’s gotta be 812 years old, so I suggest placing your orders in person. She’s quite wary of any technology, including telephones, and she’s never even heard of the internet. If you mention Google or Twitter to her, she’ll think you’re talking dirty.”

  Another grin crossed his face, and I decided that I could do that all day, as long as he rewarded me with that smile.

  “That’s the Baptist church, but it doubles as a synagogue and a mosque. Not only that, but it’s the venue for the annual high school prom, which you will definitely be asked to chaperone if you’re foolish enough to run into Principal Henderson in the weeks beforehand.”

  “I take it you’ve had some experience with that.”

  I stifled a shudder, flashing back to memories I had worked very hard to suppress. “All of Riv
erwood has vowed not to speak of it.”

  We soon came to a four-way stop. Behind us was the church and the rest of the main street, and before us was the park. We shared a silent communicative glance, then continued our journey into the greener part of town.

  “Tell me a little more about you,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets as we strolled along at a leisurely pace. “Are you married? Do you have any kids?”

  Kids? I can’t even properly control my dog! I thought as my head whipped up to look at him in surprise. “No, not yet.”

  He glanced over at me, then shrugged and gave a relaxed smile. “Me neither. All I’ve got is a girlfriend... and a new dog.”

  “Well, the way I see it, we’ve got plenty of time for the white picket fence, right? How old do you think I am anyway?”

  His eyes twinkled as he looked me up and down. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re about the same age as me, 24 or 25.”

  I had to give it to him: Most guys insisted on staring at my breasts in a dress like that, since the style and cut put the girls front and center, but Matt didn’t act like a dog in heat. At least twice during our walk, though, I did notice that he had to make a concerted effort not to stare.

  I lifted my chin stiffly and gave nothing away as I answered, “Anyway, continuing on then with the tour...”

  The two of us exchanged grins again before I lifted my hand and pointed to an ice cream cart on the far side of the park, the same cart I’d visited just a day before.

  “They’ve got the best in the whole city, hands down.”

  He raised his eyebrows and wiggled them, as if to challenge my review. “In the whole city? Really?”

  “Absolutely,” I vowed, holding up my fingers in a Scout’s honor pose. “I swear on my life.”

  He grinned again. “Well, I suppose you’ll just have to prove it to me.” Then, without another word, he steered us gently in the opposite direction, straight toward the cart. When we got there, he pulled out his wallet automatically and handed the vendor a bill.