The Man Next Door (An Older Man / Younger Woman Romance)

by Mia Madison

  “How are you doing?” I asked when a moment of silence had stretched on longer than I knew what to do with.

  “Good,” Ander answered with an attempted ease that I didn’t believe for a second. He shifted his weight which tilted his foot and his face scrunched with an obvious surge of pain. We hadn’t talked much out in the ER waiting room. It had been packed with a mix of people operating at the brink of overwhelming stress or so sedate that I thought they might pass out and fall on the floor. It had been noisy, and we had mostly sat in silence, but now I was determined to finally offer my services as something other than a chauffeur by giving him something else to think about besides his foot. Hell, if I’d thought it would help, I would have stood up on his bed and done a strip tease.

  My mental images of me slowly pulling my top off over my head as Ander stared up at me in ogling wonderment were interrupted by Ander clearing his throat. “I’m sorry I pulled you into this. I’ve ruined your whole afternoon. If you’ve got plans—with a boyfriend or whoever—I don’t mind you taking off. I can grab a cab back.”

  Score! It took effort not to throw my arms up in the air in a two-handed fist pump, but instead I played it cool. Leaning back in my chair and doing a slow crossover of one of my very naked legs, I said, “No boyfriend. No plans. Afraid you’re stuck with me.” I couldn’t quite contain my smile when his eyes drifted over me to watch my body move. Then, it was my turn to clear my throat. “You got a wife, fiancé, girlfriend… boyfriend, anyone you’d like to give a call, let them know you’re here?” I pulled my cell out of my pocket and waved it in the air.

  This time it was Ander’s turn to smile. “Nope. None of the above.”

  My heart leaped and my nipples tightened thinking about all the possibilities that simple answer opened.

  Together, we sat giving each other a knowing look, smiling, and I found myself dragging my fingertips over my bottom lip before I realized what I was doing. Ander’s smile turned into a lopsided grin, and I felt my cheeks heat. At least I’m distracting him, I mused.

  “Tell me about New York,” I demanded suddenly. I was going to keep him talking without putting myself in an early grave by way of my own embarrassment. It was time to put the spotlight on him. “I mean, who moves from the Big Apple back to the windy city?” Having an art gallery show in New York was on my bucket list. New York was a “to” location for me, not a “from.”

  “The people were great. The city is amazing, but”—he shrugged his impressively broad and muscular shoulders— “It wasn’t home.”

  We heard the voice of what I assumed to be a doctor just beyond the curtain that acted as a fourth wall for the room we were in and our attention together shifted to it, but the voice’s owner soon walked on and I shifted my gaze back to Ander. I waited, being sure not to speak. I wanted it to be him who filled the silence.

  He shifted again, trying to get comfortable, and I could see in his expression that there was something he wasn’t saying. He shook his head. “If I’m being honest, there was more to it than that. A good buddy of mine, someone I grew up with, got sick. Real sick. Then he got better before I’d even known he’d been sick and had almost died. Something about it flipped a light switch for me. I’d always imagined I’d come back to Chicago when I was ready to settle down, but it was always a someday plan. Never a today, know what I mean? When I heard about my buddy, it finally hit me. I’ve been waiting for the rest of my life to start, and it was time to stop waiting and to start doing. So, I sold my business, bought my grandma’s house and moved back.”

  “What was your business?”

  He gave me another crooked grin. “Carpentry.”

  I tried to stifle the burst of laughter that came out of my mouth with the cover of my fingers, but I wasn’t fast enough.

  “I know!” He waved a hand at his foot. “Been doing the job for over twenty years, I retire, and then I have the worst accident I’ve ever had.” He shook his head. “I should’ve checked the weeds, should’ve had on my work boots.”

  “Yeah, but it was a nail! I mean, we’d be here anyway, right?”

  “No, my work boots are reinforced. The nail never would’ve reached my foot. Rookie move,” he said with a huffed laugh, shaking his head some more.

  “How are we doing in here?” a tall woman with wispy blonde hair pulled back into a now-messy bun asked as she pulled the curtain aside. The doctor went into a discussion of Ander’s test results and explained that no permanent damage appeared to have been done. A bone was nicked but not broken, and rest was prescribed for the next several weeks. Healing was going to be slow. Then, after making sure he had someone to drive him home, they gave him a happy-pill narcotic to ease his pain.

  He fell asleep on the way home and was still sleepy-eyed when I got him in his house and settled on his couch. I made a PB&J and left it with a glass of water on his end table before slipping his house key off his keyring and tucking it away in my pocket. I didn’t ask, but as I covered the peacefully dozing man beneath a throw so that he’d wake up warm and cozy, I didn’t care. I was coming back and I wasn’t going to do it by creeping over his backyard fence.

  Kneeling, I gave his sleeping lips a little kiss. His lips were soft and tender, and I was going to make damn sure the day came when he kissed me back.

  Chapter Four

  Ander

  The sweet smoky smell of bacon frying teased my senses awake a few seconds before its sizzling registered in my brain. I opened my eyes and stared at the textured ceiling as I oriented myself with where I was and why my foot hurt so damn much. It kept up a perfect throbbing tempo in time with my heart.

  The sound of an angel humming reached my ears next. I caught movement from the corner of my eye and turned my head to get a full view… and what a view it was. Constance was dressed in a long sleeved, form-fitting, midriff-exposing shirt and a see-through, ankle length floral skirt that had a slit all the up to its waistband, perfectly framing the cream-colored miniskirt beneath.

  “Well look who decided to wake up,” she said, flashing me a smile that could have left me warm even if it had been an early winter morning. She was that beautiful. “I was beginning to think I was going to have to set up a coffee IV to get you going.”

  “I need those.” I pointed to the mound of clothes she held in her arms which she must have just picked up from the floor. My voice was raspy, and my thick throat was sluggish to respond with sound as if I hadn’t spoken in a week.

  “But they’re dirty. You even got some blood stains on them,” she countered.

  “I’m naked.” I lifted the throw that covered me just enough to allow me to peek underneath. “Yep, totally bare.” All I could think was thank God, I wasn’t sporting morning wood, then I saw her blushing cheeks and imagined her under me and that morning wood was becoming a fast inevitability. “Mind tossing them to me?”

  Her eyes rounded and her plump lips parted in a silent “O” when her gaze shifted to my middle. She’d moved my clothes in her arms and had looked ready to toss them on my stomach, but my body’s response to her nearness had given her other things to think about.

  Then, the worst happened. She giggled. Giggled. But, instead of making my manhood shrivel up with embarrassment, it throbbed and surged to a high salute as if determined to set right any misgivings she might have about it. That turned Constance’s giggle into a gasp, and that damn gasp of hers made me throb all the harder. My pecker had all my attention; I wasn’t even feeling my foot.

  “I think the bacon is burning,” Constance said, dropping the clothes next to the couch. The bacon smelled fine to me, but I wasn’t going to argue.

  Risking being spotted bare-assed, I tossed the throw off as soon as Constance rounded the corner into the kitchen. Gathering my discarded clothes, I stood with a groan and then did a fast hobble down the hallway toward my bedroom and out of sight.

  It was the growing pain from my foot that talked the swelling of my cock down more than anything else, but
I was glad that it had done the trick. I got dressed in a pair of jeans and the longest t-shirt I had before limping painfully toward the kitchen. If the little man forgot his manners again, I was hoping I could at least keep him camouflaged.

  “Breakfast smells amazing,” I said, reaching the kitchen’s doorway. My foot was now throbbing so hard that I’d gotten an in-sync eye twitch to go with it.

  “What are you doing? Sit down!” Constance said, shooing me out of the kitchen like she owned it. She followed me to the dining table and had a chair and pillow ready to lay my foot on by the time I sat down. Picking up my foot, she gently propped it up before doing a quick examination of my bandages. They were looking a bit splotchy from the seepage from my wound.

  “I’ll change this for you before I go,” she said before bringing me a glass of orange juice plus my antibiotics and some Tylenol. “Take these, then it’s time to get some food in that belly.”

  I was grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. The whole thing was strange having an unfamiliar, but no less gorgeous girl waiting on me. Felt good, too.

  “What?” she paused on her way to heading back to the kitchen.

  “You. You’re mothering me. I love it! I haven’t had anyone fuss over me this hard in…” I paused in my thoughts, not wanting to age myself too much in her mind by saying that it had been longer than she’d been alive. Sure, I was old compared to her, but I knew things the boys her age didn’t. I knew how to pay attention to her body’s wants and needs. I knew how to put her first.

  “Yeah, well, I can’t have that foot of yours rotting off. You’ll be bugging me left and right to help you run errands and do things for you. This is just me taking care of future me.” Her words were harsh but her voice was soft and her pretty lips were turned up at their corners. She couldn’t even bring herself to look me in the eye as she tore me down.

  God, I want her. I’d never seen anyone prettier, both inside and out. I’d known her less than a day but she was making me feel like a rutting bull. I felt the need to make sure that no one else got within a hundred feet of her. I didn’t want that pretty smile and those shining eyes looking at anyone else like she looked at me. I might have had a hole in my foot, but I was feeling like the luckiest man alive. It wasn’t just her Goddess-like beauty either. She was funny, sweet and she sure as hell didn’t have to be here.

  She brought out plates of eggs, bacon, biscuits, and hash browns. I hadn’t had more than a protein bar or a bowl of cereal for breakfast in years. We ate, we laughed, and then she pulled my house key out of her pocket and slid it across the table. I wanted to tell her to keep it, but then she’d think I was insane.

  “I made myself a copy,” she said with a wink. “Don’t want any splinters from having to climb over your fence every time you need help.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll just change the locks when I’m better,” I teased knowing full well that those locks weren’t going anywhere. I had her right where she wanted me.

  Chapter Five

  Constance

  “Hey! You’ve got more food in your fridge,” I called out as I stood in front of it with its door open. I’d come over to take care of Ander for the last few days, and I’d found myself thinking about the chance to see him again every night as I drifted to sleep wearing a silly little smile.

  Well, but not last night. Last night I’d fallen into a restful slumber after crying out his name into the empty darkness of my bedroom. After I was done, I’d turned on my side and curled up with my arms around a pillow, wishing it was him. The man was my new catnip, and I couldn’t get enough of him. I only hoped that he was feeling the same.

  “I had a delivery service drop it by,” Ander called from his spot on the couch. “You know, you don’t have to do this. I can make something for myself.”

  When I heard his groan, I glanced quickly around the corner to find him trying to back up his words. He’d hoisted himself halfway off the couch and had his leg extended precariously in front of him with his heel on the ground and his toes sticking straight up. His expression was pained, and I could tell that he was trying to work up his nerve to put actual weight on his injured foot.

  “Stop!” I called out with an exasperated laugh and watched as he collapsed back onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

  “I can do this, I swear,” he said.

  “Uh huh,” I said, returning to the task of putting bread and cheese stacked on a skillet over a low flame. “I’m starting to wonder how you even make it to the bathroom.” Then a thought occurred to me. If he was having that much trouble getting around, he might need help taking a shower. His hair looked fine and I hadn’t noticed any funk coming off him, but it wasn’t as if I’d gotten up close and personal with him to be able to tell. Images of him naked as I washed him down filled my mind until the smell of toasted bread pulled me back to the present.

  “This is almost done,” I called out.

  “Okay, I’ll have the tv tray ready,” Ander called back. After that first morning of sitting at the dining table, we’d opted to keep things simple by eating at the couch where Ander could keep his foot elevated and immobile.

  I carried one large plate out of the kitchen loaded with two ooey-gooey grilled cheese, one for him and one for me, and left it on the little tv tray that Ander had set up. I was back a minute later with two glasses of sweet iced tea. I set them down, grabbed a chair from the dining table, and joined Ander to eat our lunch.

  As he’d done on every other day, Ander waited for me before starting in on the meal. As soon as I sat down, he handed me a Kleenex to use as a napkin, and we both dug in.

  I picked up my sandwich and pulled it in half, watching the melted cheese stretch between the two parts as Ander took a big bite. His eyes closed as pleasure softened his features, and I drank the sight of him in. He was so handsome, and it was everything I could do to keep myself from cupping his face. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to do so much more with him… and I wanted him to touch me, too.

  “Mmm.” He hummed on his mouth full and then swallowed. “How do you make the simplest things taste so good?” Those were the words that came out of his mouth, but when his eyes opened and focused on me, I could see that they held a different question.

  “What?” I asked with a little laugh, feeling nervous under his scrutiny.

  “Aren’t you going to get in trouble with work? I don’t think you should come by tomorrow. I love how amazing you’ve been, but you’ve been here at least twice a day every day since the accident.”

  Uh oh, we were about to have “the talk,” the one that either had people backpedaling away from me, getting way too eagerly interested in what I did and thinking it meant I was a bit of a slut, or soundly putting me in the friend category. Ander was about to learn what I did for a living.

  My silence as I mused about how to tell him what I did must have dragged on for a heartbeat too long, because Ander’s voice and body language changed. Instead of leaning toward me, his torso shifted the tiniest amount so that he was leaning away from me, and when he spoke his voice was lower, softer and filled with sympathy. “Uh, sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. You know, if you’re between jobs or something, it can happen to the best of us.”

  “I’ll have you know that I was hard at work by 6 AM this morning,” I said with a teasing smile. I loved to work with paints in the early morning light. It cast a hue on the colors that provided vivid contrasts in the finished piece that somehow worked. “I stopped just before coming here to take care of you.”

  Ander’s face was one of blank confusion for half a second before understanding clicked into place. “You work from home?” he asked, pointing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of my house. “Don’t tell me, are you a sex operator?”

  I could tell he was teasing, but he didn’t know how close to the truth he was. “How did you guess!” I teased right back. His expression shifted from joviality to the barest uncertainty before breaking into a hearty laugh.

  “No seri
ously, what do you do?”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, giving him a wink. “I’ll show you.”

  Chapter Six

  Ander

  Sitting on my couch I leaned forward, putting my elbows on my knees and my hand on my face as Constance fanned out seven paintings in front of me with their faces pointing away. I was nervous at first, afraid that I wouldn’t like what it was that she was about to show me. I hadn’t known Constance for very long, but at the moment she was the best thing about my life, and whatever we had between us, I wanted to keep it going.

  So, I put on my interested face, prepared to feign rapture if that’s what it took to protect her feelings, but then it happened. One by one, she turned the paintings face-forward, and what I saw was nothing short of amazing.

  Okay, what I saw stunned me at first, but then I looked past the subject matter to her technique and the layers of emotion captured within each stroke of paint. What I saw blew me away. Her talent was real—raw and energizing. Nothing about her style flinched away from the beautify found within the most exposed moments. I’m a big, gruff man who used to drive steel through planks of wood with the brute force of my pounding arm, but what I saw before me made my heart ache.

  The first painting she turned around had my brows leaping halfway up my forehead. A man was sitting in a chair with his long legs open at the knees where a young woman knelt with her mouth and hand on the young man’s engorged cock. But then, I saw the way the man looked at the woman with his head titled and his eyes half lidded, then I noticed how his open fingers were slipped into the silky tresses of her blonde hair. Suddenly, the lewdness of the moment captured slipped away to reveal a naked intimacy that made me want to stop and stare as my eyes traced every intricate brush of smeared pigment across what had once been a blank canvas. It was beautiful, and I was in awe.