Tempting Her Neighbor (a Georgeville novella)

by Laura Jardine

  Yeah, she definitely wanted to get him into bed. See what else he could make her feel.

  “I’ll tell you if you invite me in,” she said.

  He shifted the lasagna to one hand and rubbed his other hand over the side of his face. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  He put his hand on the doorknob. “See you later.”

  She’d been hoping for a little more enthusiasm than that.

  But she had six months.

  …

  Cole put the lasagna down on the stove and took off the lid. It smelled wonderful. He cut it into nine pieces, put one piece on a plate, and sat down at the table.

  Jesus, he was afraid that woman wasn’t going to leave him alone. It was only Tuesday, and he’d already had two conversations with her.

  But she was sexy. Today she’d worn a pair of jeans and a black tank top, the straps of her bra peeking out underneath. It had driven him mad the way one strap threatened to slide off her shoulder.

  And now he knew she wanted him, a possibility he’d pushed aside the other day.

  He supposed he should be pleased.

  No way was he getting involved with his neighbor, though. That seemed like a bad idea. In his experience, when women suggested they wanted sex, what they really wanted was something more. They hoped that one-night stand would turn into flowers and fancy dinners and all that shit. And when he told her he had no interest in that crap, it would get awkward.

  He didn’t think she was just after sex. She’d made him a goddamn lasagna. If she only wanted sex, she wouldn’t have bothered with that. Unless she was both trying to get him into bed and trying to be neighborly.

  Women confused him.

  To be fair, it wasn’t just women. People in general confused him.

  He preferred coding and numbers. They made so much more sense.

  Cole stabbed at his lasagna a couple of times then took a big bite. The cheesy-tomatoey-meaty goodness was better than cheap pizza. God, was it ever delicious. Maybe he should try to be friendlier so she would keep bringing him food. But then he’d be using her for her culinary skills, and he didn’t want to use a woman like that. It wasn’t like he had anything to offer in return.

  Although if he was honest himself, he wouldn’t actually mind talking to her every now and then.

  Strange. That wasn’t like him at all.

  He was about to get another piece of lasagna when his phone rang. He grabbed it off the counter and looked at the display.

  No surprise there. Only one person called him on a regular basis.

  “Hi, Mom,” he said.

  “Hi, Cole! Are you all moved in? How’s the new place?”

  “It’s good. Everything’s fine.”

  “You managed all by yourself? We offered to help.”

  “I know. Many times.”

  But his stepfather had had open heart surgery earlier that year, and Cole couldn’t count on the man to take it easy like he should. So he’d turned down their offers to help. He hadn’t wanted to spend the whole day worrying about Joe. Plus his mother and Joe lived in Ottawa, so it wouldn’t have been convenient for them to help.

  Now he was closer to them, though. Two hours instead of four and a half. Close enough to visit and come back in a single day. That was the reason he’d moved to Georgeville rather than a small town west of Toronto. He wasn’t an entirely heartless person; he did care about his mother, and he wanted to see her more often. And Joe. His stepfather was a good man, although Cole hadn’t met him until he was seventeen, and Joe didn’t feel like a father figure to him.

  Well, better to be without a father for most of his childhood than to have the piece of shit who’d knocked up his mother.

  “We’ll visit you soon!” she said. “Maybe this weekend?”

  He glanced around his apartment. His mother would freak out if she saw the place in its current state. “How about you wait until the following weekend? I’m still getting settled here.”

  “Sure. We can come up for lunch and eat somewhere in Georgeville.”

  “As long as you’re happy eating at the diner. There’s only one restaurant in town.”

  “Only one restaurant? Really? Maybe you haven’t had enough time to explore.”

  His mother was a city person. The idea of a town this small was probably incomprehensible to her.

  “Given you can walk down Main Street in about five minutes, I think I’ve seen it all,” he said. “There’s not much here.”

  “But you like it? It’s such a big change. I still don’t understand why you wanted to move to such a place.”

  “I like my peace and quiet.”

  “Are you getting that there? Or is there nothing to do but socialize? Have you met any women?”

  Actually, yes. I want to sleep with my neighbor.

  But he hadn’t met a woman in the way his mom meant.

  He didn’t expect to. Ever. As he’d told his mother before.

  Unfortunately, this only made her feel guilty about his childhood, convinced that must be the reason he had no interest in a serious relationship.

  It was true that his early childhood had been complete shit, and he knew that was part of the reason he was the way he was, but he didn’t blame his mom for that. When he was five, she’d managed to get them out of that situation, and as Cole got older, he realized how hard that must have been for her.

  And now she had a son who didn’t even like people, because they tended to be assholes. It wasn’t just his father who had led him to that conclusion, though that was certainly part of it.

  But even if he found a decent woman, he didn’t see what a relationship would offer him. His life was just fine the way it was.

  He talked with his mom for a few more minutes. She said good-bye after an emotional, “I miss you!” which Cole returned with less feeling.

  Then he got himself that second slice of lasagna he was craving.

  It was damn good. He snickered as he imagined asking Rachel for the recipe. Sharing recipes and spending the day in the kitchen were not things he’d ever do.

  He did need a hobby, though. That was why he wanted a house—so he could have his own garden. Plants and soil made so much more sense than humanity. He’d have a vegetable garden out back and a flower garden in the front. He’d have the prettiest fucking garden on the block, and hopefully when people complimented him on his roses, they wouldn’t try to engage him in conversation.

  That was his dream. The house with the white picket fence, but no wife and two-point-five kids. Just the house. And maybe a woman he could fuck every now and then, one who didn’t expect anything more. No jewelry or dates. No cuddling and talking about their feelings. But if she wanted a rose from his garden, he supposed she could have one.

  The woman in his fantasy looked an awful lot like Rachel. She’d popped into his mind on and off since he’d met her on Saturday, and he suspected it would only get worse. He imagined flicking the straps of her shirt and bra off her shoulders, then taking one of her breasts in his mouth.

  For a brief moment, he entertained the idea that she could give him what he wanted. Maybe she wanted exactly the same thing. Sure, it seemed unlikely, but it wasn’t impossible.

  His two brief relationships had both started with casual sex. Kara had even insisted that was all she wanted on the night they met, but then she kept insinuating herself into his life, and eventually he gave in and said she could call him her boyfriend. Karla—yes, he’d dated two women with almost the same name—hadn’t claimed she just wanted sex, and they soon fell into an awkward relationship. She kept getting pissed at him for not acting like a normal boyfriend, and he’d been completely lost, wishing they could go back to the first few days, when it hadn’t been anything more than a little fun.

  Rachel? He expected she’d be the same. Her clothes were a little on the revealing side, but she seemed like a sweet girl ne
xt door. She’d brought him a lasagna, for fuck’s sake. On the other hand, she’d made it very clear she was interested. He wasn’t used to women being bold with him. In fact, he wasn’t used to women noticing him at all, and if they did notice him, they were usually quickly repelled by his personality. Strangely, Rachel didn’t seem bothered by his get-the-fuck-away-from-me vibes.

  Still. It was a bad idea to sleep with her, being neighbors and all. He didn’t see that ending well.

  There was also the issue of his lack of experience in the bedroom. It wasn’t like he’d never had sex before; he just hadn’t had a lot of it. He didn’t have much practice actually getting a woman into bed.

  He looked down at his empty plate then stood up. He should do some more unpacking, especially if his mother was coming to visit him in a couple of weeks.

  It had nothing to do with wanting the place to be clean in case Rachel came over with another lasagna.

  Of course it didn’t.

  Chapter Three

  Rachel looked around AJ’s Diner and sighed. It was one thirty, and most of the regulars had left. Mrs. Patterson—the widow who lived in the rickety house behind the town hall—came every Wednesday at noon for a grilled cheese. She’d hobbled out the door a few minutes ago. Jerry O’Donnell came in every day for lunch, and he alternated between a Western omelet and a burger. He waved at Rachel as he headed out now, and she pasted on a smile for him.

  AJ’s Diner was located in Ridgewood. Ridgewood and Georgeville—she found them so depressing. They were full of people who did the same boring thing day in and day out for decades, who were only dimly aware that life existed out of this small collection of towns.

  Well, she couldn’t talk. She’d lived in Georgeville her whole life, had worked at this diner four or five days a week since finishing high school.

  When she was a child, she’d had wonderful dreams of becoming a ballerina or an actress. By the time she was a teenager, those dreams had vanished. They were just silly childhood fantasies. It wasn’t as if she wanted to do the work to make them come true. How could she ever be a ballerina if she’d never taken a single dance lesson?

  Still, she dreamed of getting out of Georgeville.

  Her parents had laughed. Rachel wasn’t particularly smart, didn’t have any particular talents—she would probably wind up staying. Just like everyone else in her family. Just like almost everyone in these godforsaken towns.

  But she kept telling them she would leave. She wanted to live where there was something to do other than toking up under the bridge, or drinking beer out of a paper bag by the railway tracks, or having lots of sex.

  Not that she minded having lots of sex. Not at all. She’d lost her virginity at fourteen and developed a bit of a reputation—it didn’t take much to develop a reputation around here. Even her parents had heard the gossip. It was hard to hide anything in a town this size. But she wasn’t going to stop doing the only thing that was any fun in Georgeville.

  As the end of high school approached, she had started to panic at the idea of leaving. She’d had no concrete plans for what she’d do—all she’d known was that she wanted to get out. But she knew little of the world outside this town. How could she manage so far away from home?

  So she’d decided to stay, just for a year or two. It was a sensible plan. She’d live with her parents, save up some money, get some waitressing experience…and then she’d start over. Far away.

  Two years later, she’d started to panic again. The thought of leaving the only life she’d ever known—it was terrifying. When her older sister, Shannon, got pregnant and her boyfriend broke up with her, Rachel was almost relieved. She had a reason to stay—to help Shannon with the baby.

  She had moved into her own apartment and put aside her plans to leave. All they did was make her panic. What if she couldn’t make it in the city? What if it didn’t live up to her dreams?

  Maybe she was just meant to stay here.

  How depressing.

  Georgeville might not be exciting, but at least it was comfortable. Familiar. She had a few friends. Her family. And unlike her, they seemed happy here. Jenna, for example, was content to have a simple life with Theo in this town.

  Rachel’s parents wanted her to settle down, get married, and live somewhere nearby. But she didn’t date. Although some of the local guys were attractive, none of them really interested her for more than a quick fling.

  Her limited experience with real relationships didn’t make her want to date, either. She’d had a boyfriend for almost a year back in high school. Brandon, who now lived in a town nearby. There had been a few moments with him that were just perfect. That first kiss in his car. The time they spent half the night making out on the playground.

  But Rachel had been miserable for much of their relationship. It had hurt to be apart, even for an hour or two—she’d been a melodramatic teenager—when she was so in love with someone. It also hurt to see him talk to other girls, flirt with them. Sometimes he even kissed them. And more. She’d forgiven him because she thought those few perfect moments were worth more than anything else in the world. But it had been a shitty relationship.

  It felt good when she’d kicked him to the curb just before prom. Like she was taking back her life. Now she was free to sleep with whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted—though Brandon had done that during their relationship anyway.

  And there was another reason she didn’t date. She was afraid of someone tying her down to Georgeville. If she was in a relationship with someone who wanted to stay here, she wouldn’t have the freedom to move away.

  Once she’d dreamed of being a famous ballerina, but now all she dreamed of was moving to Toronto and maybe going to community college. Becoming a paralegal or something like that. And she was too scared to make even that pathetic dream come true.

  In Toronto or Ottawa, there would be more to do. There were movie theaters and shopping malls and festivals. Restaurants that served types of food she’d never had—Greek and Vietnamese and Korean. Bookstores, enormous libraries filled with books. She might not be smart, but she’d always read a lot. Had adventures between the pages of a book that she could never have in real life.

  She sighed and started wiping down Jerry O’Donnell’s table.

  And it was wiping off the relish—what a stupid condiment—that he inevitably spilled whenever he had a burger. That was what finally did it for her. She tossed down the towel and forced herself not to scream.

  This was not the life she wanted. And the thought of doing this for another decade or more… No, she wouldn’t survive. It would drive her crazy.

  She had to leave. The idea nearly made her break out in a cold sweat, but she had to do it. She wasn’t a naïve teenager anymore. She could handle herself out there, couldn’t she?

  Screw what everyone thought of her.

  She would succeed, dammit.

  …

  When Rachel parked in front of her apartment, she glanced at Cole’s place.

  Cole was from out there, that mystical land she dreamed of. It was rare that people moved to Georgeville, and if they did, they were usually coming from similar towns, like Ridgewood. If someone from the city wanted a quieter, simpler life, they moved to a nicer place than Georgeville. Perhaps a little town on a lake, with a cute main street.

  She wanted to sleep with Cole, wanted to strip him down to see what he was like under that gruff exterior. But it wasn’t just that. She imagined he’d had the life she’d always longed for—the one she was going to have—and she was curious about it.

  While he made no secret of being antisocial, he didn’t seem to mind talking to her. She’d even caught him smiling, although he’d tried to hide it.

  She couldn’t help wanting to make him smile again.

  Chapter Four

  “He said no?” Jenna said, eyes wide.

  Rachel tucked her feet up on the couch. It was Friday evening, and she, Jenna, and Cassie were hanging out in Jenna’s living ro
om. This was the first time she’d been in the house that Jenna had recently bought with her fiancé, Theo.

  Rachel had been friends with Jenna and Cassie her whole life. Most people in town didn’t have a high opinion of her, but at least she had two good friends, and she saw them every week.

  “It’s not like I knocked on his door and said, ‘Nice shoes, wanna fuck?’ But he knew what I was getting at, and he wouldn’t let me inside. I gave him a lasagna.”

  That wasn’t like her. She wasn’t usually the sort who looked after people and brought them food. She was the fun one.

  “A lasagna?” Cassie said in a soft voice. There was always a quiet serenity about her—she was the opposite of Rachel—and tonight, a smile seemed permanently stuck on her face. It wasn’t a wide grin, but Cassie’s slight smile radiated joy. She sat in the recliner across from the couch, rocking slowly back and forth.

  “Yes. Because I’m so wholesome.”

  Jenna chuckled and had a sip of wine. “You sure he understood what you wanted? Presenting a guy with a homemade lasagna isn’t a code all men know.”

  “We talked for a few minutes, and I made it very clear.” Cole might not have gotten the point on Saturday, but he definitely got it now.

  “And then he shot you down.”

  “He told me it would be a bad idea,” Rachel said. “Because we’re neighbors, I guess.”

  “He’s not married, is he?” Cassie asked.

  “Don’t think so. No wedding band—I checked.”

  “Maybe he won’t have sex before marriage.”

  “Cole’s not particularly polite. I can’t imagine him having such morals.”

  “Oh?” Jenna said. “Rude men are hot.”

  “Says the woman with the sweet fiancé.”

  “I’m not saying you should get engaged to a man like that. But for sex? Totally hot.”

  Rachel pictured Cole when he’d come to the door, looking pissed that he’d had his solitude interrupted and needed to put on clothes. Not that she knew he’d been walking around shirtless, perhaps merely with a towel around his waist…but she liked to think so.