by Anne Conley
Published by Anne Conley.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
Cover photo by Dreamstime. Cover art by Anne Conley.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead are purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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
Other novels by Anne Conley
Chapter 1
She should have picked the beach house in Galveston.
Claire surveyed the mess in front of her. She had initially been excited about it, when Uncle Eddie had left her this house in his will. He had given her the choice between this place and a beach house in Galveston, but she was afraid that the homeowner’s insurance on the Gulf Coast would eat her lunch. Now, she wasn’t so sure. The house itself was beautiful, built in the late-eighteenth century, it would make a great bed and breakfast. Getting it up to code, however, was proving to be a daunting task.
The kitchen? Well, the kitchen was last remodeled sometime in the 1950s. Claire imagined a woman in a polka dot dress with a lace apron and pearls, lovingly running her hand along the giant enamel stove. It was the same stove every woman had been fantasizing about since Rachel Ray’s television debut, except this one was rusted, filthy, and totally unusable without a full restoration. Such a restoration was not in her budget.
Claire sighed heavily, and grabbed a trash bag.
The kitchen's only blessing was an enormous picture window with the original frame. Unfortunately, it lacked glass, so she made the best of her situation. She tossed her full garbage bag out of it. It was certainly easier than carrying the trash out the back door, down the back porch steps, and all the way around the house. This way, Claire could fill a bag, toss it out the window, and have it halfway to the destination of the curb.
An hour later, she had five garbage bags full of trash on the ground beneath the kitchen window. She had swept and mopped the floors, wiped down the cabinets and countertops, and almost managed to get rid of the odor of rat pee. She mentally patted herself on her back. Not bad for a morning’s work.
As Claire went outside the back door, she wondered when garbage day was. Walking over to the kitchen window, she grabbed a garbage bag and threw it over her shoulder. She grabbed another one and started dragging it behind her as she trudged to the front curb.
Forcing oxygen into her bloodstream, Claire breathed heavily as she carried the trash bags around the house, thinking to herself that maybe she shouldn’t have tried to shove so much into each bag. They were really heavy. When her foot landed on something squishy, she paused and prayed she hadn’t stepped in dog pooh.
As her shin scraped through the pulp of the soggy plywood, and she fell forward, into a hole that had been covered. Her momentum with the added weight of the trash bags, propelled the top half of her body land on solid ground. Unfortunately, the bag she was dragging added to the weight on the bottom half of her body, which was dangling over the hole.
She released the garbage bags and grabbed what she could. Weeds. Crap. So she yelled. Loudly.
“Help me!!! Please! Somebody, help!”
Usually, when she pulled weeds, she needed a shovel and a pickaxe to get them out of the dirt. These weeds--which Claire really needed to be sturdy little buggers--were coming out as fast as she could grab them.
“Help me!” she screamed as if her life depended on it. This was probably an old water well, and she had no idea how deep it could be.
Scrabbling for anything to hold onto, feet dangling in the darkness below her, she tried to swing her legs forward to find something for them to cling to. Her hands grabbed for anything, rocks, grass, roots. Nothing was working. She couldn’t help imagining the Indiana Jones pile of snakes slithering over each other, anxiously awaiting her drop into their midst. Her Converse tennis shoes slipped down the slimy sides of the well Claire imagined was covered with spiders and their webs and egg sacs. She couldn’t find anything for her hands to grab onto, and screamed again as she slipped further into the well.
A PIPE! She grabbed a pipe that was sticking out of the ground and held on tight. She had no idea what purpose this particular pipe held, except that at this moment, it was saving her life. Now if I can just hang on… Her feet slipped again, as they desperately scrambled to find purchase against the slimy wall. It felt like the wall was made of stones, which would make something there for her to grab with her, wouldn’t it?
Her hand was hurting, and she tried to hold the pipe with both hands. It wasn’t a big pipe, and since she couldn’t really see what it was connected to, if anything, she didn’t want to grab it with both hands and put all of her eggs in one basket. She tried her best to hold still and not jiggle anything that would make her fall all the way into the well.
Claire’s head and shoulders were still above ground level, but the rest of her body had sunk through the rotten, water-logged plywood “covering” this giant hole in the ground. She tried to feel around with her free hand to see if any of the rest of the wood was sturdy enough to hold her. No dice. Everything her hand touched, crumbled and fell into the abyss below. Apparently, she grabbed a nest of some sort, because hundreds of tiny spiders crawled around on her hand. She shook them off, while holding on to the pipe with her other hand. Terror filled her veins as she screamed again.
“Hang on, I got you.”
Relieve flooded her body, as enormous arms wrapped around her ribcage, and lifted her out of the hole. She looked up at her savior. And up, and up…until her eyes met the caramel colored eyes of…Adonis. He pulled her back out of the hole, tripping over her beloved pipe, and tugged her down with him as they ended up a tangled pile of limbs in the weedy yard.
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. 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 breathing 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 h
er spine in a comforting gesture. 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 traveled to her lips. Seemingly jealous of the attention 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 was pressed up next to a complete stranger who was caressing her face. What the heck?
“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 craving 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 her tongue made little swirly motions around his thumb, his eyes actually darkened 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.
Claire noticed Max looked like he was suppressing a laugh. His chocolatey eyes were crinkling at the edges, and his shoulders shook, lightly. This is at the top of my list of ‘Most Awkward Moments, Ever.’
“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 officially 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, thankfully 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.
“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, and Claire’s stomach tightened at the sight of even, white teeth. “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. Each room in the massive house was in the same shape as the kitchen, requiring massive trash removal, and plenty of scrubbing.
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 chose. When she saw the place, though, she had had second thoughts.
It had the 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. As it sat 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 a bed and breakfast. Until she found the gold, though, she’d have to rely on her limited resources and skills.
She probably could have asked the hunky neighbor to help her with some of the heavy stuff, 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 David, Mark, and Tom, she was ready to give up relationships for good.
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.
Chapter 2:
Max spent the rest of the day in his back yard, listening for any more sounds of distress coming from next door. Fortunately, he didn’t hear anything, but it wasn’t for lack of listening. He usually had music of some kind playing in the yard with him, either out loud or in his ear buds. But not today. He wanted to hear everything she did.
He listened every time she opened her door to take another load of trash to the curb. He couldn’t help but imagine her, sweating, straining, and breathing heavily as she worked. Max wanted to go over there and offer to help, but he knew the thumb-sucking incident earlier had embarrassed her. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed it. He’d been about to kiss her, under some sort of spell, with her body next to his, her scent pervading his senses, her tears on his fingertips...
That night, as he lay in bed, looking over at her house through his bedroom window, he saw an upstairs light come on. Unable to look away, Max watched Claire come into a bedroom, clad only in a fuzzy pink towel. She walked over to a box, bent over and started rummaging around, looking for something.
Realizing what was happening, Max groaned, and roll
ed over in the bed. He couldn’t watch his new neighbor getting dressed. After her embarrassment this morning, she would be utterly wretched to find out he had spied on her while she was in the privacy of her own room.
Max squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget the image that had just burned itself into his brain. The towel was just long enough to leave a little to the imagination, until she’d bent over. He suddenly longed to clutch the smooth, rounded ass that had peeked out from under the towel.
Even with clothes on, she was gorgeous. She was petite, though not as small as Summer. Her body was toned and tanned, and she had short blond hair that framed her face with soft curls. Her eyes were hazel, he thought, but wasn’t sure. He’d have to get another look. And he looked forward to it.
Resolving to go over tomorrow and properly introduce himself, Max managed to fall into a fitful sleep, full of erotic dreams of his new next-door neighbor.
The next morning, Max awoke, showered and dressed carefully, before walking next door to formally meet Claire. As he knocked, he could hear the noise of a power saw from behind the door. Surprisingly impressed, he waited for her to answer. When she finally did, his stomach did a flip-flop.
She had a bandana pulling her hair back, and safety goggles were perched on top of her head. Her eyes were definitely hazel, though they were a little on the greenish side. She wore cut off shorts, a tank top, and work boots. She was dirty and sweaty, but Max didn’t think he’d seen anyone so attractive in his life.
Maybe it was because she had been using power tools he thought she was so hot, he wasn’t sure. It could have been the instant memory of her soft skin under his fingers yesterday, when he’d pulled her out of that hole. Maybe it was the recollection of her wrapped in a towel last night in her room, fresh from the shower.
Whatever it was about her, she was totally hot. Max hadn’t said a word since she’d opened the door, and now she was looking at him expectantly, her hand on one cocked out hip, foot tapping impatiently.
