SEVEN

Oh, to go where one knows one shouldn’t.

Leelo

“Is he a contractor?”

I turn to Matt stepping off the ladder propped against the side of the motel. He just spent the last twenty minutes inspecting every inch of the roof, insisting he make sure the work was all done properly. And that was after checking out the plumbing in the three units Roar had worked on.

“Roar? No. Just a helpful neighbour.”

The derisive snort is hard to ignore. An irritating habit both kids seem to have inherited from their father, who was the master of derision.

“Helpful,” Matt repeats, his eyes flashing something I can’t quite pin down. “I bet. And what kind of name is Roar?” Without another word, he picks up the ladder and takes it back around the side of the house.

I bite off the grin at my son’s protective instincts on display and his apparent instant dislike to my neighbour. It’d be interesting to see how the two would react to each other.

Matt arrived late last night and rolled straight into bed, but after he finished breakfast this morning, he announced he was giving the place a good once over, and nothing I said could stop him. Overbearing men seems to be a theme in my life. By merit of his Y-chromosome, even my son in all of his twenty years, feels the need to impart his expertise and wisdom on me.

As if by divine intervention, the well-timed crunch of tires on gravel draws attention to the familiar truck rolling up the drive. Before it even comes to a stop, my son is marching up to it. I lean my shoulder against one of the pillars of the overhang and observe the scene play out. I’m not even trying to hide the amusement on my face as the much larger Roar unfolds himself from the cab of the truck. Even at this distance I can see the firm set of Matt’s shoulders slump a little, and the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallows hard. His five foot eleven youthful frame doesn’t quite measure against Roar’s six foot three bulky mass. Still, I watch my son lift his chin and square his shoulders as he offers a hand in greeting. Roar clasps the proffered hand with a serious face, but the hazel eyes that flick in my direction over Matt’s shoulder, show a spark of amusement.

“Coffee?” I call out, pushing off the post and walking toward the men. “I have cinnamon rolls,” I add and both heads swing my way as I walk into the bar, straight into the kitchen beyond. I’m not surprised when two sets of heavy footsteps follow.

Half an hour later, I head back outside, in desperate need of some air before I do serious physical harm. I leave the two guys, more animated than I’ve seen either of them before, leaning against the kitchen counter, eating the last of my pastries while making detailed plans for the renovations. No one bothers to run anything by me. Two men, who in my experience manage little more than two word sentences when communicating with me, appear to have no such restrictions when conversing with each other.

Well, the assholes can jabber and plan all they want, but in the end, nothing will happen unless I say so.

Last time I checked, it was still my fucking name on the deed.

-

I’m staining quarter round to finish off the flooring in unit six when I hear the slam of a car door. I half expected Roar taking off again, but instead it’s Kyle walking toward me. Wonderful.

“What are you doing next Friday?” he wants to know when he’s close enough. I straighten up and try to wipe the stain off my hands with a rag.

“Why? What’s next Friday?”

“The opening ceremonies for the Wawa Music Festival. As one of the festival’s largest sponsors, I’m expected to give the welcoming speech.” I take a step back when he leans in close enough that I can smell him, and it’s not a pleasant experience. “It would be a great opportunity for you to network. I’ll pick you up at six for a bite to eat before.”

More than a little irritated with the presumptuous way he lays claim to my time, I open my mouth to object, but someone beats me to it.

“Out of luck, Thompson,” Roar’s voice sounds from right behind me, as a heavy hand lands on my shoulder. “The lady is coming with me.”

I shrug the hand off and swing around. I need to tilt my head back to meet his eyes burning down into mine.

“Really?” I spit out. “I have news for the lot of you.” I swing my arm demonstratively through the air, narrowly missing a direct connection with the middle of my neighbour’s face. Roar deftly dodges impact as he grabs my flailing limb in his large fist. That doesn’t stop the tirade I feel bubbling up, though. “Last I checked, I was a grown-ass woman, more than capable of looking after myself—” I accompany this declaration with a glare in my son Matt’s direction. “Fully qualified to make my own decisions—” This with a scowl at Roar, who is grinning widely but still hanging onto my wrist. “And a woman of my word,” I say this turning my attention to Kyle. “So when I turn down an offer of dinner, you can bet your shiny designer loafers that I’m not interested. In the least!” I add for good measure when I see shock hit Kyle’s features. Better to hammer that shit home, because I don’t feel like having to make the same damn point over and over again.

I can feel the low chuckle vibrate through the warm palm of Roar’s hand around my wrist, as he makes no effort to hide his amusement at my outburst. It doesn’t help when my son’s distinct snicker joins, and not even the sharp bang of a car door slamming shut can stem my hot irritation. I twist my arm from Roar’s hold and stomp off to where another fourteen feet of quarter round is waiting for stain.

All men can collectively kiss my ass.

Roar

I want to kiss that smart mouth.

If not for her son, and that fucking Kyle Thompson; I’d have swallowed that sharp tongue whole. Instead, I watch her decimate my old nemesis and stomp off in her pink Converse sneakers, while he tears out of the parking lot.

“Wow,” Matt says behind me, and I turn to face him. He’s staring after his mother with surprise on his face. “I’ve never—not ever—heard that side of my mom. I honestly didn’t think she had it in her.”

“I’m becoming very familiar with that sharp side of her tongue,” I snort, and Matt swings his eyes to me. “Not sure what your mom was like before she moved up here, but this woman doesn’t take prisoners.”

“No shit. Wish she’d have had a little of this when my dad used to wipe the floor with her.”

His tone is wistful and I wrestle to keep my face impassive and my mouth shut. The thought of someone, anyone, wiping the floor with Leelo has the hair on my neck stand on end. With one last look at where Leelo is slapping stain on wood, I turn on my heels and head into unit one.

“What are you up to?”

I look over my shoulder and find the kid has followed me in.

“Last bathroom to finish,” I tell him.

“Cool. I’ll help.”

-

“So what is your interest in my mom?”

I’m leaning against the bed of my truck, grabbing a minute to watch a sweaty Leelo shoveling gravel into the massive pothole in the drive, when Matt walks up behind me. He’d given me plenty of looks all morning, but this is the first time he questions me about his mother.

The kid impresses me. He knows his way around tools and made the job a lot easier. He told me a little about the kind of work he does with his father, which is mostly home and small business renovations. From the sound of it, his dad’s a prick. Matt made some remark about hoping to venture out on his own in time, but my impression was that time couldn’t come soon enough. He had some neat ideas for the motel. Simple upgrades to the rooms and exterior that would give the place some visual interest, without breaking the bank. Stuff I suggested he bring up to his mom.

Then he mentioned something about fishing and asked for the best places to do that. I told him a little about the lodge and Whitefish Lake, suggested he follow me later and I’d show him some spots.

He talked plenty but this is the first time he puts me on the spot.

I watch the subject of discussion carry another load of gravel in the wheelbarrow, as I weigh my answer. I notice her colourful arms, straining with the weight, and decide to tell Matt the truth.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly, turning in his direction. “I could tell you I’m being a good neighbour, and perhaps it started out that way, but it’s not just that anymore. Your mom is different. She stands out.” That gets a loud snort from Matt, and I chuckle myself when I follow his gaze to where Leelo wipes her face with the bottom of her shirt. I try not to notice the exposed wedge of lily-white stomach and quickly avert my eyes. “She’s got balls, coming out here to try and build a life. It’s hard enough for those of us who’ve lived here all our lives. She’s got every damn odd stacked against her, but I’d really like to see her succeed.”

Matt raises his eyebrow. “That’s it?”

I shake my head, pull the rag from my back pocket, and wipe my face to hide the grin on my face.

“Why don’t you grab your gear, I’m gonna let your mom know we’re off,” I instruct him.

The moment he starts moving, I head over to the side of the storage shed, where Leelo has been hauling gravel from the pile. I find her shovelling another load in the wheelbarrow. Probably not the best time for her to be doing this, in the midday heat of the sun, but it shows her determination. Besides, she makes a mighty nice picture. The way her sticky shirt is plastered against her body shows off every damn curve and believe me, there are plenty.

Tempting. So fucking tempting, but I resolutely tuck my hands in my pockets, where they’re safe, and clear my throat.

“I just—”

I barely get a word out and Leelo jumps and swings around, almost knocking me off balance.

“Jesus, you scared me...” she hisses, slapping a hand to her chest.

Of course, that just draws my attention to some of those curves I mentioned. When a second later she plants both palms against my chest and gives me a good shove, I feel I have no option but to wrap her in my arms.

Then my brain takes a complete detour. I can’t tell you exactly what it is, whether the soft press of her warm body against me, or the mix of confusion and heat in those sky blue eyes, but I instinctively lower my head and cover her slightly opened mouth with mine.

The mistake is clear the moment I taste her lips. Soft, pliant, and with a hint of coffee and salt, her mouth is instantly addictive and already I crave more.

Big fucking mistake.

“Heading off to the dump and showing the kid around for a bit,” I mutter, keeping a firm grip on her shoulders as I create some much needed distance, all but flinging her aside. “Stay hydrated, you’re sweating like a racehorse,” I add stupidly, as I try to ignore the look of shock on Leelo’s face.

I turn on my heels and aim for the safety of my truck, hoping for a clear getaway, when the sharp sting of a handful of gravel hits me square between the shoulders.

“Asshole!” I hear, just as I climb in and pull the door shut. Matt is already sitting in the passenger seat, a big grin on his face.

“What are you laughing at?” I snap, jabbing my keys in the ignition.

“I’m really liking this new side of Mom,” the little smartass replies.

Leelo

What, the ever-loving fuck, was that?

Don’t get me wrong; I know exactly what that was. I can still feel the strength of his body, smell the scent of clean sweat and man, and taste the raw heat of his mouth on my lips.

But what the fuck was that?

I’m still fuming when I stomp down the last load of gravel in the pothole that is no longer visible. Nothing like some good old-fashioned physical labour to get rid of anger. Or is it frustration? All I know is it feels like the ground, that started to feel a bit more stable under my feet, is suddenly shifting again.

He is confusing me, and I don’t like being confused. Hell, in one of the first interactions we had, the man was boasting about cleaning some chick named Charlie’s pipes—I hated him on sight—but then he proved himself to be a pretty good guy, instead. A good neighbour. And I could really use one, given that I was way out of my depth when I moved my life up here. He’s been a lifesaver more than once.

Not going to deny that I’ve looked, and maybe I’ve fantasized, but there’s no way I would’ve jeopardized a potential friendship. And certainly I have never messed with another woman’s man. I’ve been on the receiving end of that one, and let me tell you, those wounds run deep.

Then he kisses me and fucks it all up.

I tilt up the wheelbarrow to lean against the outside wall of the shed, plant my hands on my hips, and gaze out at the sliver of water just visible through the trees. I’ve explored the shoreline a little on the other side of the small outcropping of land, but I haven’t had a chance to inspect this side. Hot and sweaty as I am, a dip of my toes in cool water holds appeal, and I set off down the narrow, overgrown trail through the bush.

Whitefish Lake is narrow here and I can clearly see the other shore when I get to the water’s edge. I’m surprised to spot a small but expensive looking speedboat latched to an old dock on the other side. I was under the impression it was all Crown land over there. Eighty-five percent of land in Ontario is Crown land and falls under the jurisdiction and management of the Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry. I guess it’s possible they’ve built a dock there for water accessibility, since there are no access roads, but the speedboat looks out of place. Maybe Roar knows something about that.

My mind slips into dangerous territory at thoughts of that man, I turn my attention to unlacing my sneakers, so I can cool myself in the lake. There’s a decrepit dock, half submerged under the water, on my side as well. I wouldn’t mind seeing that restored and maybe a launching ramp added, so guests can bring their own boats. I may even pick up one or two to rent out.

With my butt on a large rock that juts out, I stick my feet in the lake and don’t bother holding back the groan escaping my lips. That feels amazing. Between the thirty plus degree weather of the past few days, and the more frequent hot flashes that have been plaguing me—something I should probably get checked out—the cold water is utter bliss. So much so, that I let myself slide fully clothed off the rock and into the lake.

I’m not sure how long I’m floating on my back with my eyes closed, but it seems that dozing off under these circumstance might not be advisable, and I reluctantly make my way to shore.

As I sit down with my back to the water, to put on my shoes, I suddenly hear the soft purr of an engine. I turn around just in time to see the shiny motorboat leave the dock and speed off to the east, leaving a rolling wave in its wake.

There doesn’t appear to be anyone steering it.