“It was in your shower?” Lucas asks when we get to the bathroom. “The water’s running. Maybe you already drowned it.”
“No, it’s on the ceiling.”
I hesitate in the doorway while he picks up the broom. He opens the shower door, then slams it shut again.
“Holy shit,” he says.
“What?”
He takes a step back. “That’s a huge fucking spider.”
“I told you.”
“Okay, I have to be honest with you,” he says. “I hate spiders. I thought it was going to be one of those little ones. That thing is a fucking beast.”
“I know! Kill it!”
He adjusts his grip on the broom and shoots me a glare. I hold the towel and chew on my thumbnail while he creeps toward the shower. He glances over his shoulder at me again, his jaw set, before he throws open the shower door.
Lucas stabs at the ceiling with the broom. “Fuck!”
I shriek and back up into the hall. “What happened?”
“The little fucker moved. He’s a quick son of a bitch.”
He stabs a few more times and I hold my hand over my mouth so I don’t scream again.
“Ha! Got you, little bastard.” He pokes the bottom of the broom on the floor a couple times, like he’s making sure the vile creature is dead.
I step back into the doorway. “Did you get it?”
“Yep.” He nods toward the floor in front of the sink. “Smashed the shit out of it.”
I take a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“You’re wel—” He looks at me and his eyes widen again.
My towel is starting to fall open. “Oh, crap.” I grab it with both hands, and I’m sure I’m blushing from head to toe.
Lucas chuckles and leans the broom against the counter. “Okay, darling. I think your spider infestation is handled. I’ll leave you to your shower. Although I’m not sure if there’s much hot water left.”
He’s probably right. Figures. I move aside while he comes out of the bathroom and walks past me.
He pauses at the top of the stairs and gives me a sly grin. “If you want to come next door and shower, I can help with that too.”
“Bye, Lucas.”
He laughs and heads downstairs. “Bye, Becca.”
I lean against the door frame and breathe out a long breath. Stupid spider. Stupid Lucas. Although I’m glad he killed it for me. He didn’t have to laugh at me quite so much, but it was kind of satisfying to see him creeped out by it too.
I turn off the water. I’ll have to wait to take a shower. There’s no way I’m going next door to shower at Lucas’s place. If I did, he might—
I stop that train of thought right in its tracks. I’m not even going to think it. I’m not going over there right now. I’m not the least bit tempted.
Nope. Not at all.
9
9: Lucas
The pizza smells awesome. I pay the delivery guy and bring them inside. I ordered two, since I’m not sure what Becca likes. I could have asked her ahead of time, but it’s more fun to spring things on her.
I send her a text. Wanna come over? I have pizza and a movie.
I’ve been hanging out with Becca a lot lately. It’s easy with her right next door. We sit around and watch random shit on Netflix, or run out to the store together. It turns out she’s an amazing cook, and she invites me over for dinner all the time. My version of cooking is usually heating up something from a can, so all these home cooked meals are fantastic.
Tonight, I figured I could handle dinner. Plus, I have something else up my sleeve.
She texts me back. Give me five minutes, k?
I answer back—See you in a few—and unlock the back door for her.
Since our karaoke night, I’ve come up with a few more ways to help Becca come out of her shell. Mostly I’ve been making her face her fears. There was a spider in my apartment—thankfully a much smaller one—and I convinced her to squish it with a paper towel. Last weekend, I took her out to a hiking spot that leads to a suspension bridge. She was nervous to walk out over the ravine, and it took a few minutes of coaxing. But I held her hand and led the way, and I have to give her credit—she kept her eyes open. By the time we reached the other side and had to turn around and go back, she walked ahead of me and even stopped in the middle to look down.
She’s not nearly as afraid as she thinks she is. She just needs someone to reassure her that she can do things she’s never tried before.
Someone like me, I guess.
The back door opens and Becca comes in. She’s wearing a pair of light gray shorts and a white t-shirt. I try to keep my eyes off her toned legs.
That sounds easier than it is.
“Hey.” She closes the door behind her. “I’m glad you texted. I didn’t feel like cooking tonight.”
“Awesome.” I get some paper plates out of a cupboard. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just tired,” she says. “Work took a lot out of me.”
“Little stinkers giving you trouble?”
She laughs. “One little stinker. She’s a sweetheart, but I think she’s having some turmoil at home, so she’s acting up in class. She kept at it, so eventually I got out the play dough to keep the rest of the kids busy and sat with her in the reading chair. I think the poor little thing just needed a hug.”
Becca’s stories about work have a strange tendency to tug at my heartstrings a little. “You must be amazing with those kids.”
She smiles. “Thanks.”
I gesture to the pizza. “I ordered from Roma’s, which means it’s greasy as hell, but delicious. There’s a pepperoni and sausage, and a supreme that looks like it has a little of everything.”
She comes around the counter into the kitchen and eyes both pizzas. “I’ll take one of each.”
“That’s my girl.” I nudge her with my elbow. I love that she actually eats. I’ve been with too many girls who don’t seem to.
Of course, I’m not with Becca. But still.
We load up our plates and I grab a roll of paper towels—Roma’s pizza is messy. We settle in on the couch. Becca tucks her legs up and sets her plate on her thighs.
“How about you?” she asks. “Make tons of money today?”
“I did all right. I made up for my loss yesterday, so that’s a good way to end the week.”
“Your job would stress me out,” she says. “I don’t know how you do it.”
I shrug. “I like it. It’s like solving a puzzle every day. I have to predict what’s going to happen and bet on the conclusions I draw.”
“I’ll take my snotty-nosed four-year-olds,” she says.
She takes a bite of her pizza and laughs as grease drips down her chin. I grab a paper towel and wipe it off for her. Her eyes meet mine and I realize how close we’re sitting. Our legs are almost touching. It makes my heart beat faster and my dick stand up and pay attention.
There’s no way I can deny the pings of sexual tension that spark between us whenever we’re together. She feels it too—I can see it in her eyes.
It’s moments like this I wish she wasn’t my neighbor.
Although, that’s not entirely true. I love it when she shows up at my back door and waves at me through the glass. I wouldn’t have that if she didn’t live next door. Or when I come up with something random to do that might scare her, and I get to be the one to coax her into it. She’s fun to hang out with. I don’t know that I’ve ever had this kind of relationship with a woman before, but I like it. It’s so easy with Becca. We can spend time together, do all kinds of cool shit, and there’s no drama.
That’s enough to get me to back off. I like Becca—I like her as more than a hot piece of ass. Sure, she’s beautiful. She has a fantastic body, and I jerk off to Becca fantasies pretty much every night. But she’s more than that. She’s fun and sweet and I like being around her. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize that.
She shifts so that there are a few more inches be
tween us. “So, movie night?”
“Yes.” I set my plate down on the coffee table. “I have a treat for you.”
“Uh-oh,” she says.
“What do you mean, uh-oh?”
“You’re up to something,” she says. “I can tell.”
“I am not up to something,” I say. She narrows her eyes at me. “Okay, that’s a lie. We’re going to watch a horror movie.”
She freezes in place and her eyes widen. The color drains from her face. “What movie?”
“Well, we have options,” I say. “But I’m thinking Poltergeist. Unless you’ve already seen it.”
She shakes her head.
“Awesome. It’s a classic.” I grab the remote and turn on the TV.
“Lucas, I don’t think I want to watch a horror movie,” she says. Her voice is quiet.
“Have you ever seen one before?”
Her eyes dart to the TV, then back to me. “Not really. But I don’t think this is necessary.”
“It’s good to face your fears,” I say. “How did you feel on that bridge? Or in front of everyone when we were singing?”
She takes a deep breath. “Scared at first.”
I hold up a finger. “At first. What about after?”
“I was… okay, maybe a little exhilarated.”
“Maybe a little?” I ask. “I saw your face, darling. On that bridge you lit up like the sun. You conquered that shit, and you were proud of yourself.”
Her mouth turns up in a little smile. “Okay, that’s true. I was proud of myself.”
“See? And the more times you do things like that—even small things like watching a scary movie—the more you’ll feel brave other times. You’ll remember how it felt to conquer that bridge, or the mic, or a movie, and the next thing you want to try won’t seem so scary anymore.”
She nibbles on her lower lip. “All right, I’ll watch on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“No making fun of me if I scream.”
I laugh. “That’s fair. I won’t tease you at all.”
I turn on the movie and we go back to our dinner. The beginning of the movie is mellow, and to be honest, it’s pretty dated. I have a feeling once things get going, it won’t scare her very much. We finish our pizza and I get us a couple beers.
Introducing her to beer is another of my triumphs. Becca discovered, to her surprise, that as long as it’s not too dark or heavy, she likes it. And a girl who can enjoy a good beer is a special kind of sexy.
I watch her take a sip, tilting the bottle to her lips. Those full, pink lips.
Maybe teaching her to like beer wasn’t the best move.
I shift so I can adjust my dick, hopefully without her noticing. But her eyes are glued to the screen.
The movie gets creepier, and Becca pulls a pillow into her lap. I watch her from the corner of my eye. She’s curled up with her toes tucked into the seam between the cushions, her arms clutching the pillow tight to her chest. She chews on her lip and her eyes widen. I get the feeling she wants to cover her eyes a few times, but her gaze flicks to me, and she doesn’t.
We get to the part where the tree comes after the kid, and Becca abandons the pillow and grabs my arm. She buries her face against me and peeks out at the screen. I try really hard not to laugh.
She spends the rest of the movie snuggled against me and digging her fingers into my arm. I turn my face slightly and breathe in her scent. She always smells so good—lightly floral and clean. Believe it or not, watching a scary movie wasn’t a ploy to get her to touch me like this. In fact, it’s kind of killing me. She feels so good against me and it’s hard not to put my arms around her.
When the movie ends, she lets go of my arm and scoots away, like she just realized what she was doing. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, so I play it off like we didn’t just spend the last half hour practically cuddling.
“So, what did you think?”
“I don’t know, that was really scary,” she says.
“But you watched the whole thing,” I say. “You rocked it, darling.”
“I think I bruised your arm.”
I hold out my arm and turn it over. “I’ll live.”
“Okay, yes, I watched it, but I think I can safely say I don’t like scary movies,” she says. “That was too stressful.”
Damn it, now I feel bad. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think this one would bother you that much.”
“No, don’t be sorry.” She touches her hand to her chest. “I just wish my heart would quit beating so fast.”
“How about this,” I say. “It’s not that late, and tomorrow’s Saturday. Let’s watch another, and you pick. Anything you want.”
Her eyes light up. “Really? Anything?”
“Anything at all.”
She smiles. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”
She heads out the back door and returns a few minutes later with a bag of kettle corn in one hand and a movie in the other. She puts the bag down on the coffee table and clutches the movie to her chest.
“This is an important moment,” she says. “This is my absolute favorite movie ever, and if you tell me you don’t like it, I don’t know if we can still be friends.”
I hear the joke in her voice, but I’ve already resolved to tell her I love the movie, even if I hate it.
She turns it around. The Princess Bride.
“As you wish,” I say.
She blinks with a look of surprise and I realize I sort of just said I love you without meaning to.
I clear my throat, anxious to brush that off. “That’s a great movie. I can’t remember the last time I saw it, though.”
“Perfect,” she says. “This is always what I watch when I’m stressed or upset.”
“Let’s do it.”
We watch Becca’s movie, munching on kettle corn. She clearly knows the entire thing by heart. I see her lips move with the lines throughout most of it. The movie is genuinely good, but it’s even more fun seeing her enjoy it.
So, maybe no more scary movies. But I still have some other ideas. As much as I like casually hanging out with Becca, I like pushing her too. My next idea might prove to be the thing that pushes her too hard. But I need to draw out her naughty side, and I think I have a way to do it.
10
10: Becca
I’m putting away my dishes when a few taps at my back door startle me. Lucas is standing outside holding a couple of plastic grocery bags. He grins at me as I come to let him in.
“Hey.” He sets the bags on the coffee table and starts pulling things out. There’s a bag of Doritos, a big package of Oreo cookies, a bag of gummy bears, a bottle of blue Gatorade, and a half gallon of milk.
“What is all this?” I ask.
“We’re going to need this later,” he says.
I glance at the pile of junk food on the coffee table. “For what?”
He looks at me and a big grin steals over his face. I’m starting to become familiar with that look, and it sends a flurry of butterflies swirling through my stomach. He has something planned. I don’t know if I should be excited, or scared.
Probably both.
Lucas reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small plastic bag. It has what looks a bit like two whitish crayons, but they’re blank, and a little too lumpy.
Uh-oh. I know what those are.
He holds up the bag, waving it in front of me. “I’m going to get you high.”
I know the burst of terror I feel is plain on my face, but I can’t help it. “You’re going to what?”
“Have you ever smoked weed before?” he asks.
“No.”
“I didn’t think so,” he says.
“But…” I take a step backward “I can’t smoke pot.”
“Why not?”
I put my hands on my hips. “Because… I just can’t.”
He grins at me again. “Of course you can. It’s even legal here. I bought these at a store.”
/> I open my mouth to argue, but I’m not sure what else to say. I’ve never smoked pot. I’ve been drunk plenty of times; I’m not a total ingénue. But pot wasn’t legal until pretty recently, and it was always on my no way list. Good girls don’t get high.
“Oh my god, Lucas, I can’t believe I’m thinking about agreeing to this.”
“Of course you’re agreeing to this,” he says. “It’s going to be fun as shit.”
I look at the food again. “Are we really going to eat all that?”
“Maybe,” he says. “We shouldn’t drive if we’re high, so I figured I’d be prepared with some supplies.”
“I guess this means you’ve done this before?” I ask.
“Yep.”
I look him up and down. “How do you stay in such good shape if you eat like this?”
He laughs. “I’ve done it before, but I can’t remember the last time I got high. Probably college. But I figure you, my little darling, have never been baked, and we need to change that.”
I bite my lip and sink down onto the edge of the couch. Should I do this? I’m the one who wanted Lucas to help me find my naughty side. What’s naughtier than getting high?
Well, several things, but I’m not doing any of those with Lucas, so I can stop thinking about that right now.
I take a deep breath and sit on the couch. “Okay.”
“Awesome.” He sits down next to me and grabs the bag. “You should probably give me your phone for the night.”
“Why?”
“Do you want to have the ability to text your friends and post who knows what on Facebook while we’re baked out of our gourds? I sprang for some good shit, here.”
“I don’t think I want to do this anymore,” I say, but I hand him my phone.
He laughs and nudges me with his elbow. Actually, it’s more than a nudge. He rubs his arm against mine and the feel of his skin brushing against me makes my heart beat faster.
Good Girl Next Door: A Steamy Small-Town Romance (Jetty Beach Book 6) Page 6
