Friends With Benefits
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Michelle Grotewohl
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Prologue
Dolores Davison and Cynthia Westlake sat at a small white wrought-iron glass-top table on the outdoor patio at Petit Fours, a premier ladies’ club and restaurant in Plymouth, Michigan. The two had met several months beforehand at a Mahjongg players’ tournament hosted by the Wayne and Oakland counties’ Mahjongg Players’ Groups. They’d instantly hit it off, despite the fifteen years between them.
Dolores, the older of the two, had cloud grey hair that she kept short for ease and time-efficiency. Her eyes were dark brown and shrewd, constantly alert and missed nothing. At 63, she was still a force to be reckoned with, and had only just retired from her career as an elementary school secretary six months previous, hence the Mahjongg, since her late husband had been gone just long enough to miss her retirement.
Cynthia, on the other hand, had light blonde hair that she never lied about the bottled color of, kept at about mid-length, and cobalt blue eyes that sparkled when she laughed, which was often. At 48 years old, she considered herself too young to be a widowed housewife with nothing to do with her time besides play Mahjongg at the library on Sunday afternoons.
Since meeting nearly four months ago in May, the two had made weekly trips to meet at Petit Fours- Dolores from Canton, Cynthia from Farmington Hills. They had plenty in common: they were both recent widows, both had enough money to live comfortably off of for the remainder of their lives thanks to frugal and clever husbands, and because of the fact that Cynthia had started a family young and Dolores a little older than normal, both had a child of similar age that consistently stabbed thorns in their sides when it came to settling down.
“I don’t know what Aaron’s problem is,” Dolores said, speaking of her youngest, and only son. “Anne-” her oldest and only daughter- “was married by 26, and has three beautiful children to show for it. Aaron’s 30! What on Earth is he waiting for?”
Cynthia nodded sympathetically. “At least you have grandchildren. Gina is 28 and single, with no kids whatsoever and no apparent inclination to have them any time soon. You know what the problem is, don’t you?”
Dolores nodded. “I do.”
At the same time, both women said, “Sex,” and nodded again, as if this explained everything.
“Aaron acts as if getting married would be a personal slight against God because then he couldn’t sow his oats.”
“Gina, too. It’s like she feels she has to be as cavalier about sex as a teenage boy just to get along in her life.”
Dolores hummed an agreement, taking a sip of her Earl Grey tea and a bite of the raspberry torte Petit Fours was famous for. “What he needs is a woman just as cold about sex as he is, to teach him a lesson.”
“It’s the exact opposite for Gina. She needs a man to fall for her before she gives him the boot to show her men have feelings, too.”
Both women lifted their eyes at the same time, their startled gazes meeting across the table. Cynthia spoke first. “They’d be perfect for each other.”
“They would. Too bad they’ve never met.”
“Yes, but couldn’t we set something up so they could meet? If they did, they’re bound to be attracted to each other, with very little work on our parts.”
Dolores looked as if she were considering it. Then she shook her head slightly. “There’s no plausible reason, though. It’s almost September. No holidays or birthdays coming up. If I just threw something together, Aaron would smell set-up before I called him to tell him to come.”
Cynthia’s shoulders fell. “Gina, too. Damn. Well, Christmas isn’t that far off. Maybe then.”
Conversation turned to likelier things then, and both women completely forgot about their hope-filled plan that had been doomed before it’s birth.
Chapter One
Aaron Davison looked up at the two story building that had recently become his new home. He’d signed the rental papers just a few days ago on the western upstairs apartment, one of four apartments in the building, and couldn’t wait to move in. He’d started his new job as a salesman at Forester Lighting- the up-and-coming home interior lighting company that specialized in economic, ecologic lighting- only months ago, and had been looking for a place nearby ever since.
When this place had announced they had a unit available, he’d snatched it up quick, certain it wouldn’t be available long. It was perfect: big enough for comfort, small enough to be cost-efficient, and only a couple miles- walking distance, if need be- from Forester.
Aaron had enlisted the help of his best friend, and fellow Forester employee, Fisher, in moving his junk in. Admittedly, he didn’t have all that much stuff, since he stored the bigger pieces at his mothers in the unlikely event that he one day owned a house. What he did have could easily be managed by the two of them in an hour or two.
Grabbing a box of books- his one real vice, besides women- Aaron headed for the building, knowing Fisher would grab another and follow him. Just before they reached the outer door, it opened, and a woman around his age walked out. She had long strawberry blonde hair that fell down her back in gorgeous waves, was wearing a red baby doll tee over dark blue hip-hugger jeans, and had the most amazing cobalt blue eyes he’d ever seen.
She saw him coming, and moved behind the door to hold it open for him and Fisher. He had about a second to hope he didn’t look too grungy, covered in dust in his black t-shirt and holey blue jeans before he reached her. As he passed, he saw her eyes flick slowly over his 6’2” frame, saw the light of interest come into her gaze as she gave him a flirty smile, and guessed maybe she liked her men a little dirty.
He half turned as he went in to keep her in his sights, saw Fisher doing the same behind him and nearly kill himself crossing the threshold. Her smile became a grin as she released the door behind his friend, and Aaron wondered which of the four apartments she lived in, if she even lived in the building. Please, God, let her live in the building, he thought as he mounted the stairs.
“Did you see her?” Fisher asked, breathing a little heavy as he followed Aaron up the steps. Fisher wasn’t overweight by any stretch of the imagination, but he wasn’t exactly a fitness buff, either, despite Aaron inviting him weekly to the gym.
“What am I, blind?” Aaron asked, turning to the left and juggling the box to one hand so he could open his door.
“No,” Fisher answered seriously, though clearly Aaron was joking.
Biting back a sigh at his hopelessly dorky friend, Aaron walked to the spare bedroom that he’d decided to turn into an office/ library and placed his box just inside the door, knowing Fisher would do the same.
“She was checking me out,” Fisher said assuredly, huffing slightly as he followed Aaron back through the apartment to get more boxes. His words were only sure because the woman in question wasn’t around to debate him.
Aaron didn’t have the heart to correct him, just as he hadn’t since Fisher had noticed girls fifteen years ago in freshman year. It wasn’t that Fisher wasn’t good-looking; according to Aaron’s sister, Anne, Fisher was extremely handsome, with his short dark red hair and green eyes. It was simply that he didn’t know how to talk to wo
men. He lacked confidence, and women liked confidence in a man. Fisher more often than not ended up tongue-tied and stammering if a woman showed him any real interest.
“I saw,” Aaron said genially, closing the apartment door behind them.
Fisher stopped on the stairs in front of him, nearly tripping Aaron. If he’d been as uncoordinated as Fisher, they’d have both ended up at the bottom of the stairs.
Fisher’s grass green eyes lifted to Aaron’s dark brown ones. “Really?” he asked, his voice quivering slightly, in anticipation or fear, Aaron wasn’t quite sure.
Aaron nudged him with the toe of his beat-up sneaker to get him moving again. “Yeah, dude. Her eyes were all over you.” And onto me, he continued mentally.
Fisher nodded as if it made perfect sense the woman would be checking him out, and half-strutted out the door. Behind him, Aaron bit back a laugh out of friendship, shaking his head in incredulity at what was the delusional male.
A little more than two hours later, Gina Westlake returned home from the arcade, questionnaires in hand. Her job at Cyclone Games not only entailed her testing out new video games before they were released, but also testing out old ones to see if they needed to be retired. Which, in the video game world, wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
A game being retired only upped the resell value, especially when that games developers decided to re-issue it after a few years and slap a ‘Special Edition’ or ‘Greatest Hits’ sticker on it. And if they labeled it ‘Collector’s Box’? Forget about it.
She glanced around the darkening street, but didn’t see the SUV full of boxes that had been there before she’d left, or the hot dark-haired guy who’d been lugging them into the building. She hadn’t thought to look for the vehicle when she’d parked her own car in the carport at the back of the building.
Gina recalled briefly the way his bicep muscles had rippled beneath his faded black tee, indicating the box was heavy though he’d shown no sign of strain. She remembered, too, that there had been two men. The redhead was good-looking, but the brunette… Damn! She’d be happy to have the redhead as a neighbor, but she hoped it was the other guy. Please, God, let it be the brunette! It was clear by the confidence in his gaze that he would be a fun bedmate, something she was currently actively seeking.
With a faint smile on her face, she pulled open the outer door to the building and walked through it, checking her mailbox before heading up the stairs to her apartment. About halfway up she heard a noise above her, and lifted her head to see the brunette coming out of the apartment across from hers.
A smile spread over her mouth as she finished climbing the stairs. He wasn’t aware of her yet, as he was locking the door behind him. But when he turned, when his brown eyes lit on her, a full-voltage, mega-watt grin graced his handsome face. Whoa, boy, turn it down before you blind me, she thought happily.
“Hi,” he said, leaning a hip against the banister as she reached the landing.
Deciding to be neighborly, she said, “Hi. Just move in?”
“Yep.” He gestured unnecessarily to the door behind him. Almost as an afterthought, he offered a large hand. “Aaron Davison.”
For some reason, the name rang a bell with her, though she knew she’d never seen him before. She would never have forgotten a face like his. She accepted his hand, her much smaller one almost completely engulfed in his palm. “Gina Westlake.”
She saw his eyes narrow the tiniest bit, as if he, too, thought he might know her from somewhere. Then he shook it off. “How long have you lived here?”
She shrugged. “A few months.”
“Do you like it?”
Normal inane new neighbor chitchat. “Yeah. It’s close to everything, far enough away from everything else, and reasonable rent-wise.” He nodded, whether in agreement or because he merely understood what she was saying, she wasn’t sure. Turning slightly toward him, she asked, “Have you met the other neighbors yet?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of them since I got here.”
She nodded. “You likely won’t. Beneath me is Mrs. Henderhan. She’s 86, is nearly blind, and can only hear out of her right ear. She never leaves her apartment. She has a nurse who comes for most of the day, but the nurse keeps to herself. Mrs. Henderhan’s the perfect neighbor: Quiet, sweet, and deaf, which is perfect for someone like me, as I’m kinda loud.
“Now, on your side, is Mr. Gregor. He’s in his mid- to late-forties, and works the night shift at the steel mill, when most people are sleeping. He usually comes in when everyone else is leaving for work. Hopefully you work nine-to-five?”
He nodded, clearly amused by her description of their neighbors. “Yeah, usually. Why?”
“Good. Then you shouldn’t have any problems with him. He’ll sleep while you’re at work, you sleep while he’s at work. You’ll likely never see each other.”
“Thanks.” He waited a beat. “And you?” he asked, a slightly flirtatious smile on his face.
She matched it with one of her own. “I come and go at all hours of the day and night. As long as I get my work done, my boss doesn’t care when I do it. So you’ll likely see me all the time.”
He grinned again. “Great.”
She grinned now. “I sure can be. See you, neighbor,” she said, then slipped into her apartment.
Chapter Two
Gina lifted the phone in her apartment and dialed her mother’s number. Cynthia picked up on the second ring, pleasure evident in her voice at hearing from her daughter and only child.
“Hello, baby doll!”
Gina smiled. “Hi, mom.”
“How are you?”
“Great, mom. You?” Gina wondered how they could do this idle part of the conversation when they talked twice a week, and saw each other at least once a week.
“Oh, I’m great, too. Trying to keep busy, you know?”
She heard the sadness in her mother’s voice, and knew she was thinking about her late husband. As always, it cut Gina’s heart, too. Her father had been gone all of nine months, dead at the age of 50 from a sudden heart attack. “Yeah, mom, I know.”
They shared a moment of silence, then Cynthia asked, “So, what’s new with you? Anything going on in your life since two days ago?”
Gina thought about what had happened in her life in the last two days. “Nothing much. Had to do my monthly tests at Xander’s,” she said, talking about the arcade where she’d gone the night she’d met Aaron. She lit with excitement at the memory. “Actually, I have a new neighbor.”
Cynthia laughed. “I recognize that tone. Man?”
“Yes,” Gina answered with a grin.
“Cute?”
“Relatively gorgeous, yes.”
Cynthia chuckled again. “Has he asked you out yet?” she asked, knowing it was inevitable.
“No. He works regular hours. But I see him pretty often, in the hall. He’s quick with smiles and can return my flirting pretty deftly.”
“You like him?”
“I’ve only known him two days, and seen him a grand total of fifteen minutes, ma.”
“Alright, alright. What’s his name?”
“Actually I was gonna ask you about that. His name’s Aaron Davison. It sounded familiar to me, but I couldn’t place it. Do you recognize it?” Her mother was quiet for a minute, until Gina had to check the line. “Ma?”
“Yeah. I’m here. You remember me talking about my friend, Dolores?”
“Yeah?” Gina said, curious as to what that had to do with anything.
“That’s his mother.”
Now it was Gina’s turn to be speechless for a minute. “Really? Hmm. Small world.”
“Yeah.” There was an unmistakable tone of excitement in her mother’s voice. “Why don’t you ask him out?”
“What?”
“Yeah. Ask him out.”
Gina lifted a brow her mother couldn’t see at the elder Westlake’s demand. “Mom, what are you thinking?”
&n
bsp; “Nothing,” she said, too innocently. “I just figured since he was new to the area… Look, honey, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you in a couple. Love you!”
“Love you, too, Mom. B-” The line went dead. Gina pulled the phone from her ear and glared at it, wondering what the hell had gotten into her mother all of a sudden. Shaking her head- who knew with mothers?- she put the phone on the counter and went to her laptop.
Across the hall, Aaron had just completed a similar call with his own mother. He’d barely walked in the door from work when his phone had rung, and he’d toed off his shoes as he reached for it. He smiled when he saw it was his mom.
“Hey, mom,” he said by way of greeting.
“Hi, honey! How’s the new apartment?”
“Great. It’s perfect. Exactly what I wanted.” He’d spoken to his mother the day before he’d moved in and told her the same thing.
“And the job’s working out?”
He rolled his eyes as he headed for the kitchen. “Yes.”
“Fisher was so sweet to get you that position.”
“Yeah. He’s a regular Hershey bar,” Aaron muttered dryly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again because it made him feel about twelve.
If his mother heard the sarcasm, she chose to ignore it. “Have you met your neighbors yet?”
“Yeah, one of them. Actually I wanted to ask you about that.” He grabbed a paper plate and the bread.
Before he could elaborate, his mother sighed heavily. “Aaron, how many times do I have to tell you, your neighbors won’t appreciate you leaving your garbage in the hall, even if it is bagged. Honey, you can’t-”
With an affectionate smile on his face, he interrupted her. “No, mom. It’s not that.”
“Oh. Well, what then?”
“My neighbor across the hall, her name sounded familiar to me, and I was wondering if you might recognize it and tell me who she is.” Out of the fridge came several kinds of lunch meat, sliced cheese and mustard.
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