Chapter 5
ROWEN TAPPED ON HEATHER’S
front door, staring at his shiny, clean truck. He had no idea what time she’d gotten up, but by the time he’d rolled out of bed at ten that morning, his truck had already been washed and it appeared she’d even waxed the hood. He’d wanted to talk to her before now, but her SUV had been gone all morning.
Now, two in the afternoon, it was time for the barbeque…
And their date.
His lips warmed as he remembered their earth-shattering kiss. At least for him it had been.
The front door squeaked opened. He’d have to get some WD-40 to fix that.
“Hey,” she said.
Her sweet smile sent his heart racing. He no longer cared that her hands were instruments of agonizing pain because the rest of her brought his body, mind, and soul to heights of pleasure he’d long forgotten about.
“You’re right on time.”
“I’m known for being punctual.”
“Good trait to have.”
The ease at which they fell into a light conversation, as if they were old friends, stunned him, considering sweat had formed on his palms.
“You did a nice job on my truck, thanks. But I had wanted to watch you.” Geez, he sounded like a rude, horny little bastard.
Thankfully, she let out a small laugh as she pushed open the door letting him in. Last night he’d only seen her kitchen, which the previous owners had partially redone. He glanced around the living room, enjoying her simple, yet elegant taste in décor. The hardwood floor shined as if it were new. Not a speck of dust to be found. A single painting of two chairs looking over a lake lined the wall behind the sofa. A few trinkets and pictures had been placed on a bookshelf.
“Not sure the top of your truck is all that clean. I don’t have a ladder, but I did hose it down.”
He bit his tongue, keeping himself from making a typical fireman and his hose joke. “I wouldn’t have held you to washing my truck. I’ve always been immune to onions. I have no idea why, but as a kid, onion chopping was always my job.” He followed her into the kitchen, running his palm over his mouth.
“I’ve learned my lesson to never make a bet with you again.”
He followed her through the house, trying hard not to ogle her ass as it swayed back and forth. “What time did you get up anyway? I was shocked to see a clean truck first thing.”
“About eight. I had some things I had to get done in the office, so I figured it best to get my washing duties out of the way.”
“Mrs. Baker goes for her walk every day at eight.” He cringed. Mrs. Baker was a sweet older lady, but she liked to gossip.
And play matchmaker.
“She made it to your house, stopped, and chatted with me until I was done.”
“Oh, no. What did she say?” he asked, watching Heather duck into the fridge, eyeing her as she bent over. His fingers twitched, wanting to curl around her soft hips again.
STOP!
“What didn’t she say, would be easier to answer.” Heather handed him a couple containers of the Guacamole they’d made the night before, along with a bag to put them in. “If she were thirty or so years younger, she’d be trying to get you into bed.”
He laughed. In her day, he bet Mrs. Baker had been a real looker. “Well, she’s trying to find someone else to get in my bed.”
“She’s very protective of you.” Heather waved her arm in front of her.
Rowen took the hint and headed toward the front door, and his rolling cooler filled with drinks. The barbeque generally lasted till ten in the evening, though families came and went, depending on their schedules.
“She’s that way with everyone.” He held open the door for Heather, wishing his other hand wasn’t filled with food so he could offer it to her, feeling her soft skin against his. “But after my ex-wife cheated on me with someone in the neighborhood—”
“Excuse me? With a neighbor?” Heather stopped at the bottom of the steps and stared at him with wide eyes.
He’d never blurted out who Kim had been sleeping with to anyone. Sure, people in the neighborhood knew. His family knew.
He suspected Kim had been cheating. He figured it had been with someone she worked with or some random stranger. He never imagined it would be with one of their closest friends. To have had dinner with a couple right after your wife had fucked the husband, that had been the hardest pill to swallow.
He set the food in the cooler, closing the lid. The anger and betrayal he’d felt the day he found out had long dissipated into blips of sadness that he chose not to let linger in his mind and soul. He wanted to love again. He wanted a partner in life. Only, he hadn’t found anyone he felt he could trust, so he’d given up the hunt.
“Not just a neighbor, but one of her closest friend’s husband, who used to be a friend of mine.”
“What a bitch.” Heather scrunched her nose and pursed her lips as if she’d eaten a rancid pickle drizzled with turpentine.
He laughed, but at her expression more than her words. “My language was a little more colorful than that, and unfortunately, Mrs. Baker heard every word as I tossed my ex-wife’s stuff onto the front lawn.” He glanced over his shoulder, remembering how Kim scrambled to collect her things, screaming back how she never really loved him anyway.
“That had to have caused a ruckus with everyone on the street.”
“Most excitement this neighborhood has seen in a long time.”
“That had to have been hard on you, having the breakup of your marriage displayed like that for everyone to gossip about.”
He sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The humiliation he felt had been the hardest. Not so much that his wife cheated, but that it had been going on for months and he'd had no idea. “Most everyone didn’t say much to me about it at first, but I hated those pathetic looks of pity.”
“Those are the worst,” she said, shaking her head. He yanked at the cooler, making sure it was on his right side, and Heather on his left. He contemplated for ten steps on whether or not he should try to hold her hand. However, during his intense thinking on such an important concept as hand holding, she tripped on a crack in the sidewalk.
“Whoa.” He reached out, grabbing her by the forearm and pulling her toward his chest. “You okay?”
“I hate it when the ground jumps up out of nowhere.” She tucked some of her hair behind her ear, while he laced his fingers between hers, trying not to smile.
He kept his chin held high and his gaze straight forward until she tugged at her hand.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He squeezed her hand, then released his grip, dropping his hand to his side. “People hold hands on dates.” He might have stopped looking, but no way could he resist the charms of the woman next door. “And giving our neighbors something to talk about.”
“I don’t want the neighbors talking.” She lowered her head, raising her gaze in a look that would render a small child into submission. “And it’s not a date.”
“If I kiss you goodnight again, then it’s a date.” He really needed to stop pushing her buttons. Thus far, she’d been playful enough, but if he was going to get her to agree to a real date, he needed to play his cards like the adult he was, and not willy-nilly like an impatient boy.
She waggled her finger in front of him. “If I let
you kiss me again, it’s a date, but don’t hold your breath,” she said with a smile.
“So, there’s hope for a date after all.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
He opted to keep his mouth shut.
A large, grassy field, freshly mowed, stretched out for what seemed to be the size of a football field. The neighborhood put together multiple events, from parents versus kids’ soccer games to movie nights. Today, the field was lined with chairs, blankets, and families enjoying a warm summer day.
“Over there.” Rowen pointed to the Texas A&M blanket.
“You’ve already set up?” She glanced at him, her right brow arched.
“I was on the set-up crew and also had to help with where to put the pig roasts.”
“Gross,” she muttered. “I like pork, but I don’t like seeing them roll over a fire with an apple in their mouth and their eyes glaring at me.”
He let out a hardy laugh, enjoying her dry sense of humor.
“Freaked Suzie out last year, and we were sure she’d never eat pork again, until she found out her favorite food, bacon, comes from pigs.”
“I like Suzie even more now.”
He put his hand on the small of her back, guiding her across the lawn.
“There you are!” Mrs. Baker yelled from her perch on one of the dozen picnic tables the association had purchased for the area. “I have a bone to pick with you, young man.”
“I think I feel a lecture coming on,” he whispered in Heather’s ear.
“Let me put this stuff on my blanket and I’ll be right over,” he said to Mrs. Baker.
A couple of children wrangled kites in the gusts of warm wind, while others tossed a Frisbee. Screams, followed by loud squeals echoed in the air. Rowen smiled. This is what life was all about. He reached in the cooler and pulled out a long-neck, twisting the top off and handed it to Heather. After cracking open his own, he glanced at Mrs. Baker. She had that look of disappointment: her eyes narrowed a little, and her mouth drew in a straight line.
He shuddered. His grandmother had the same look and it always made him want to hide under the bed. “Well, I must have done something to upset Mrs. Baker.”
Heather laughed.
He cocked his head, watching her luscious lips curl over the bottle. The liquid flowed from the neck of the bottle to her mouth.
He swallowed when she did. “You know why she’s upset with me, don’t you?”
Heather nodded.
He growled, snagging her hand, but she pulled back.
“You can face the music by yourself.”
“Nope.” He took a step back and looped his arm around her waist. “Either come with me or I’ll plant a wet kiss on your lips and really give our neighbors something to talk about.”
“Oh, fine.” She gave him a playful shove on the shoulder, before marching off in front of him, her shorts riding up close to the bottom of her butt cheeks.
God, he was obsessed with the woman’s ass.
“Bring the chips and dip,” she called.
He groaned, taking a small sip of courage before snagging the food and following the sexiest woman he’d ever seen.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Baker.” He took the older woman’s hand and brought it to his lips. “You look lovely.”
“Don’t you sweet talk me. You owe this young lady an apology.”
He glanced between the two women.
Heather smiled like there was no tomorrow. Her one arm across her middle while her other held the beer bottle up to her lips. She swayed slightly, her dark eyes soaking in the sun, making them sparkle.
“What did I do?” he asked, choking on his breath.
“You took advantage of her,” Mrs. Baker said, poking his arm. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
He blinked a few times. “What?”
Mrs. Baker always spoke her mind, something he valued and appreciated, but she almost always had nothing but kind words to say to him.
“You should have told her that you have never once gotten teary-eyed when chopping onions, instead of making a bet you knew she’d lose. And to wash your truck? Really, Rowen. Wait 'til MiMi finds out.” Mrs. Baker spoke so fast it was impossible to get a word in, not that he dared try.
Not if she was going to bring in MiMi.
Rowen swallowed. Hard. “Please don’t tell MiMi.”
“Who’s MiMi?” Heather asked.
“My grandmother,” Rowen said quietly. “Mrs. Baker, I swear, I never intended for Heather to wash my truck. You have to believe me. I even told her I wouldn’t hold her to it, but when I woke up she’d—”
Heather burst out laughing as she reached into her back pocket.
“I don’t see what is so funny.”
Mrs. Baker joined in Heather’s laughter, holding out her hand. “You owe me twenty bucks, missy.”
“Huh?” Rowen scratched the back of his head.
“I bet Heather I could make you act like a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar.”
“That’s not funny.” Rowen pulled his lips together to keep from smiling. “Never bring MiMi into it. She’ll smack the back of my head so hard it would rattle my teeth.”
“Mrs. Baker told me you’re quite the prankster.” Heather sat on the picnic bench, looking up and smiling at him, making him crazy.
“It’s a fireman thing.” Rowen continued to rub the back of his head. “MiMi tolerates most pranks, but she doesn’t like lopsided betting, especially with a lady.” He sat down next to Heather, feeling the heat from her legs radiate to his. “Guess, I was the brunt of the joke today.”
Heather patted his thigh. “Payback is a bitch, isn’t it?”
He shook his head.
“And if you think I’m keeping my mouth closed about this one, when I see your grandmother next week, you’ve got another think coming.”
“I tried to renege on the bet.” Rowen tossed his arms wide. “Not my fault Heather decided a bet was a bet.”
MiMi was going to have a field day with this one. She knew him better than anyone and knew that the only reason he’d made the damn bet in the first place was because he liked Heather.
A lot.
Too much.
“I don’t know about you two, but I’m starving.” He ripped open a bag of chips and popped off the Tupperware top. He scooped a healthy glop of the dip and shoved half the chip into his mouth and chewed vigorously. Heather had gotten under his skin in such a short period of time that he didn’t know which end was up.
He chomped on something hard as a searing pain ripped from the side of his mouth, up his sinus, jabbing his brain. Tears stung the corner of his eyes.
“Fuck,” he muttered, cupping the side of his face.
“Rowen Alfred Clark. Watch your language,” Mrs. Baker said.
“What’s wrong?” Heather laced her fingers around his wrist. She leaned into him, staring into his blinking eyes.
He rolled the food around in his mouth until his tongue found whatever hard object had caused a grenade to go off in his mouth. Now all he had to do was figure out how to spit it out in front of a lady.
“Nothing.”
“Right.” She took his chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Something happened inside that mouth of yours.”
A reminder that her sweet hand currently touching his face could cause him more pain than he’d experience in his entire life. Gently, he pushed her hand away. “Sinus issue,” he said.
“Sinuses don’t cause that kind of pain.”
“Mine do.” He turned his head and removed the small object, taking a look because it was like driving by an accident. You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t not look.
“You broke a tooth,” Heather said, leaning over his shoulder with her damned contradictory hands on his body.
How could something so dainty and soft deliver such torture?
The sharp pain that had jabbed him like an ice pick had subsided to a dull ache. “Oh well,” he said reaching for his beer.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Heather said, reaching for his bottle.
He pulled back and took a big swig. His eyes rolled as his entire body cringed from cold hitting his broken tooth. He swallowed, then coughed, his body shivering.
“You’re going to need to get that fixed.”
“Hell, no,” he said, rubbing his cheek.
“That was a big chunk off your tooth. You’re root is probably exposed and you could get an infection if you let it go too long.” Heather stood over him, hands on her hips, eyes glaring at him.
“It will be fine.”
“Let me take a look. Might only need a crown, but I’d have to get you in the chair to find out.”
“No,” he said sharply. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s a really big deal if you let it go untreated. Some infections could kill you.”
“Is that how you drum up business? Scaring people?” Fuck. Did he really just say that out loud?
By the way she narrowed her eyes into tiny little slits and her upper lip quivered, he knew kissing her would be a wild fantasy now.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, but it didn’t matter. She snagged her beer, said goodbye to Mrs. Baker and stormed off over toward where the Easton’s had set up their chairs.
“You’re never going to land a nice girl behaving like that,” Mrs. Baker said, shaking her head.
A dull-ache settled in his mouth as he managed to sip his beer, keeping the cold liquid to one side. He’d had two cavities in his life. The first one made him hate dentists. The second one he avoided going to the dentist until he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d been nineteen-years-old and the dentist gave him every drug he possibly could and it still hurt.
Heather would have to knock him out to get him in her chair.
“She doesn’t know why I hate the dentist.” He chose those words very carefully, because he sure as hell didn’t hate Heather, even though she was a
dentist. A distinction he thought he needed to make for himself.
“Maybe you should go apologize and tell her why.”
The roar of a very expensive car stole Rowen’s attention. He’d heard that engine before, and it made his skin prickle.
Fuck. It’s him.
Jeff parked his car in the public parking area, one that almost no one ever used, since the neighborhood wasn’t that big.
Rowen's glance went from Jeff to Heather. She had her back turned, talking to Elizabeth, Suzie running around them in a circle.
“Excuse me,” he said, deciding he’d handle the situation. He knew Heather wouldn’t want Jeff here, and frankly, neither did Rowen. He strolled across the pavement, closing the gap.
Jeff stood by his car, hands on his hips, eyeing Rowen.
“This is a private party,” he said, folding his arms across his chest, keeping a good six-feet away. Pain made him ornery and while he didn’t know the extent of the abuse Heather suffered at the hands of her ex-husband, Rowen wouldn’t mind giving the man a taste of his own medicine. “Neighbors only.”
“My wife lives here, therefore so do I.”
“You need to leave,” Rowan ignored his desire to inch closer. “Heather made it clear she has nothing to say to you and she doesn’t want to see you.”
“You don’t know jack shit about my wife.” Jeff took four steps closer, puffing out his chest.
Rowen remained still, painfully aware of the children playing close by.
“I’m going to go talk to my wife, and you’re going to step aside.”
Rowen sucked in a breath, folding his hands across his chest. “No. I’m. Not.”
“Jeff?” Heather’s voice rang out.
Rowen wished the sound had its normal calming effect, but instead, his protective nature took over.
“I told you when you called earlier that if you came around again I’d call the police.”
“For what?” Jeff held his hands to the sky. “I’m not doing anything, baby. I just want to talk. We gave up too quickly. Too easily. I miss you.” He stepped dangerously close to Heather.
“Back off.” Rowen put his body between Jeff and Heather. “Last chance to leave without incident.”
Rowen’s muscles flexed as hot blood raced through his body. Violence hadn’t ever been his thing. He could count the number of times he'd used his fists to deal with a problem on one hand, and most of those times had been in high school. “For the record, Heather has filed a restraining order, so you come near her, or her home, you will be arrested.”
Jeff peered over Rowen’s shoulder. “Who is this guy, anyway?”
“I’m the new man in her life, so back it on up and get the hell out of here.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re fucking this piece of shit?”
“Be quiet, there are children around,” Heather said, putting her hand on Rowen’s arm. “Who I chose to date is not your business. Now please leave, Jeff. We’re done. Been done for a while.”
Rowen held up his cell. “Calling the police, so unless you want—”
“Screw you,” Jeff said, turning on his heels. He got into his car, revved the engine. “We’re far from over.”
Rowen watched Jeff back out and then turn down the main road. “I’ll call my uncle and get that restraining order going.”
“Like hell you will.”
Rowen took a step back as he stared into her fiery eyes. Her chest heaved up and down and her nostrils faired like a bull.
“He’s harassing you.”
“I know that, and I’ll take care of it myself. I’m a grown woman and I don’t need you to tell me what to do.”
“But he abused you in the past—”
“And I left him,” she said, holding his stare with a combination of fierce determination and unyielding angry.
A dangerously intoxicating blend, which stunned Rowen. There was no logical reason why he’d want to scoop her up in his arms right now and kiss her 'til they were both breathless.
He couldn’t help but respect her unwavering confidence and resolve.
“I will file a restraining order. But not because you suggested. I’ve been documenting everything he’s done over the last week.”
“That’s good.” He placed his hand gently on her shoulder, but she shrugged it away.
“And how dare you insinuate we’re sleeping together.”
He blinked. “I did what? He’s the one who said…said…” Rowen stammered. “I was just trying to protect you. Help you.”
“I do appreciate your help…when I ask for it, but you shouldn’t have come over here without letting me know Jeff was here.”
He opened his mouth, but snapped it shut right quick. She was right and nothing he said or did at this point would make a difference.
“I’m going to hang out with Mrs. Baker for the afternoon.”
“Oh, okay.” What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He deserved to be in the dog house. “For the record, I’m sorry about what I said earlier and how I handled your ex-husband.”
“Thank you,” she said. “But you can forget about a day with neighbors turning into a date…at least for today.”
He tried not to smile, but it was impossible. “So, there’s still hope for me?”
“Depends. I still need someone to look at my fire alarm system.”
“I feel so used.”
“Good.”
He watched her waltz back to the party, knowing he needed to give her space. It would be good for her to meet all the neighbors without him acting like a protective douchebag.
He frowned as an image of her ex’s fist crash landing on her beautiful face.
He’d never not be able to be protective.