by Anne Conley
She had no idea who this magnificent specimen of a man was, but he was her hero, having just saved her from a horrifying death. Well, possibly. If she hadn’t died, she certainly would have been extremely uncomfortable for who knows how long.
“What happened?” His melted, ooey gooey, caramelly eyes oozed concern, as they looked down from his body’s perch atop Claire’s body. Ohmygosh. He’s on top of me. His mouth turned down at the corners, and his hands were still wrapped around her rib cage. She couldn’t answer, her heart was beating too hard. She couldn’t really say if it was because of her brush with certain death, or because she had the most gorgeous man on the planet on top of her. He smelled good, earthy, like grass and man.
Her breath hitched as she looked into that face of his, and the next thing she knew, she was crying like a baby. She hated crying, and the fact that she was doing it in front of this stranger, made her cry even more, much to her own mortification. He climbed off and pulled her into a sitting position next to him, and cradled her head against his concrete chest making shooshing noises, begging her not to cry. What is it about men and crying women? I just almost died. Although, hearing his heart pound in his chest was calming her down quite a bit.
“I didn’t realize I was (hic) walking over that (hic) plywood, and I f-f-fell in.”
“Well, you’re okay now. It’s okay.” His broad hand rubbed up and down her spine in a comforting gesture. It made a warm mushy feeling spread out from the center of her chest down to her thighs. “I have some plywood in my garage. I’ll bring some over and put it over that well until you can have someone come over and fill it in with concrete.” His hand still rubbing her back. Her body still all warm and mushy. His smell still manly, grassy goodness.
Claire looked up at him, their faces were inches away from each other. His eyes looked straight into hers, then his gaze traveled to her lips. Seemingly jealous of the attention that her lips were getting, Claire’s tongue snaked out to moisten the top one. As if recognizing the desire that seemed to be radiating from her pores, he spread his lips slightly, and inhaled sharply. She could smell his toothpaste. His hand cradled her face, and he used his thumb to wipe a tear off her cheek. Then he rubbed his thumb down her jaw line.
“I have plywood…” Claire was having a hard time breathing with this stranger so close to her. Wait a minute… “Who are you?” Claire suddenly realized the compromising position she was in, pressed up next to a complete stranger who was caressing her face.
“My name is Max. I live next door.” His eyes were still locked on her mouth. “What’s your name?”
“C-Claire.” She sniffed, tears still managing to squeeze out of her eyes.
“Shhhh. Claire. It’s okay.” His thumb touched her bottom lip. As if there was an alien entity inside Claire that craved a little Max-snack, her lips opened and took his thumb into her mouth. Then sucked.
Max’s entire body stiffened, his eyes popped open, and his mouth emitted a small exhalation of toothpaste-scented air as Claire sucked on his thumb. As her tongue made little swirly motions around it, his eyes actually darken from gooey caramel, to a melted chocolate color. She closed her eyes and tasted the salty flavor of her tears mixed with his sweat, and then she gasped and spit out his thumb, absolutely mortified at herself for doing it in the first place. What sort of horny sex-demon has possessed me? She jumped up off the ground and started wiping dirt off her shorts.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m a dumb ass. That was gross. I don’t know where your thumb has been. I don’t know you. At all. Ohmygod. Why would you want a dumb ass to suck your thumb? Why would you want anybody to suck your thumb? It’s like a nose and friends! Yuck!” She could feel the blush run up her neck straight to her hairline. Her heart pounded, and she forced air into her lungs as she tried to breathe through her mortification.
As Claire looked at Max, she noticed that he looked like he was suppressing a laugh. His chocolatey eyes were crinkling at the edges. This is at the top of my list of ‘Most Awkward Moments, Ever,’ Claire thought to herself.
“Oh my gosh, is everything okay? I thought I heard screaming.” Claire looked up to see a pixie-like woman come running around from the front of the house, carrying a broom. She had spiky hair dyed platinum blond, and was wearing a very cool, gauzy skirt with a black tank top.
“I’m Summer, from next door, over there.” She jutted her chin toward the other side of Claire’s new house. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah…I’m Claire. I just moved in here.” She was now completely mortified. “I fell into an old well, I guess…and, um…Max here, helped me out.” She gestured to the man who was now standing next to her, straight-faced.
Max turned his gaze from Claire to Summer, and Claire saw him look pointedly at her broom. “You going to be flying off on that thing?”
She looked at the broom in her hand, as if just realizing she had carried it over. “I was sweeping my porch off.” She swiped it at Max playfully. “Max is handy to have around.” Summer winked as she held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you Claire. Do you need help with anything?”
“Um, no…I think I’ve got this. I’m just carrying trash out. I know now, to avoid this side of the house.” Claire tried to laugh, as if this kind of thing happened every day. Her laugh came out sounding more like a tired wheeze, so she stopped.
“Well, I’m glad to see somebody move in here. It’s been vacant way too long. Holler if you need anything. I’m right next door over there.”
“Okay, thanks.” After Summer left, Claire turned to Max. “That was incredibly awkward. I don’t know what came over me. I’m really sorry.”
He grinned at her good-naturedly. “It’s alright. Anytime you need a thumb to suck, I’ll be next door.” He turned to go, took a few steps, then turned back. “You said you have plywood?”
She nodded, “Yes, I have plenty. I’ve got to board up a couple of windows before the glass guys can make it out to replace them, so I bought extra. You never know what you’re gonna need.” She was anxious for this hunky guy to leave, so she could wallow in her humiliation.
Unfortunately, he seemed to be in the mood to chat. “You’re fixing it up yourself?”
“Um, yeah. What I can. Then I’ll hire out the rest.” She grabbed the trash bags that had made it halfway to the curb. “Well, thanks again for pulling me out. I’ve got stuff to do.” She turned and walked away, effectively putting an end to his chitchat.
The rest of the day, Claire kept herself busy cleaning. This house was a disaster. Since he had no children of his own, Uncle Eddie had given all of the cousins a choice of properties when he made out his will. Because Claire had heard that this property had gold hidden in it somewhere, this was the one she had chosen for herself. When she saw the place, though, she had had second thoughts.
It had potential to be beautiful. Built in the late eighteen hundreds, it was an exquisite specimen of Victorian architecture, with gabled windows, a wrap around porch, and even a turret. However, due to years of Uncle Eddie’s neglect, the house was a complete dump. Having lain vacant for years, teenagers had broken in and partied, effectively trashing the place.
She definitely had her work cut out for herself. But when she did find the gold, she could use it to fix the place up right, and she would be able to open up a bed and breakfast. Until she found the gold, though, she’d have to rely on her own limited resources and skills.
She probably could have asked the hunky neighbor to help her with some of the heavy stuff, but that was before she’d sucked his thumb. Jesus! What had she been thinking? Claire mentally face-palmed herself, cringing again.
She had purposely moved to Serendipity, Texas, because it was a small town, and she didn’t know anybody here, especially men. Claire needed to get away from the male species altogether, but short of becoming a nun, she wasn’t sure how that was possible. After James, Mark, and Tom, she was ready to give up relationships for good.
&nbs
p; Now she had to figure out how to live here, while simultaneously avoiding the hot next-door neighbor. Oh well, the one experience she had with him would probably last her for years. It would have to.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Other novels by Anne Conley
