The Girl Next Door

BECCA

The sound of a lawn mower wakes me. Cursing whoever the overachiever could be, I roll over and glance at the time. Nine-thirty. Who the hell mows the lawn at nine-thirty in the morning on a Sunday? So much for sleeping in for once. Tossing back the blankets, I rise and make my way to the bathroom. A few minutes later, I start for the steps, then stop. I can just hear what my mother would say if I went down without a bra on. I can hear her voice in my head clear as a bell.

“Age is starting to set in, Becca. You’re in your thirties now. You need to work out more if you want your bosoms to stay perky.”

Who the hell uses the word bosoms anyway? Or refers to them as being perky? The same woman who can’t say the words penis or menopause.

Either way, I can’t deal with it without some coffee. Returning to my room, I slip the bra on as well as a light sweater to cover my tank top and head downstairs.

Thank God for my pajama bottoms. I won’t have to hear her complain about my failure to keep my legs shaved. It’s been a rough few days. The last thing I worried about was smooth legs.

Of course, my mother is sitting at the table, finishing her breakfast. Not seeing any extra, I make my way to the cupboard and get a coffee cup. Thank God she always makes plenty of coffee.

“Look who finally decided to join me.”

“Morning, Mom.”

“I’d have made you breakfast but didn’t think I’d see you until noon.”

I fill the cup while replying, “You probably wouldn’t have except some overachiever is mowing.”

“Jason likes to get an early start…unlike some people.”

“Give me a break, Mom. I haven’t slept well lately.”

“Hmm…hm. I can see why.”

My un-caffeinated brain can’t take much more. Taking my cup, I walk out of the kitchen and head for the front door. Not sure the sound of a lawn mower will be much of an improvement, but at least I won’t have to make conversation. I step out onto the porch and make my way to the swing.

Yawning as I sit down, I start to lift the cup, then pause as my eyes fall on a vision from heaven. In my own front yard, Jason Burke mows the lawn. No shirt and wearing short shorts that show off his highly muscular and tanned body. Sweat gleans from his chest. His powerful thighs flex with each step. It’s like watching my own Diet Coke commercial.

Coffee forgotten, I watch him turn and mow the other direction. My eyes immediately go to his muscular derriere, which is outlined perfectly in his shorts. Damn, that should be illegal.

He reaches the street, then turns back. Head down, he walks straight at me. Like someone placed a slice of chocolate cake in front of me, I start to drool.

He must have felt my gaze. As he reaches the porch, he looks up, spots me, and smiles. The evil man. Every inch of me awakens in ways it shouldn’t. Jason releases the handle, and the mower turns off.

“Morning.”

I can’t even form a sentence at this point. Dumbed into silence, I keep staring at him as he walks up the steps and stops in front of me with his hands on his hips. “Are you one of those that can’t function without coffee?”

Activating my brain, I reply, “Yes.”

“Congrats. You managed a single word.”

Forcing my gaze away, I lift the cup only to realize it’s empty. I glance down to find the contents spilled all over the porch. What the hell? I must have tipped the cup over without realizing it.

His chuckle sends goosebumps racing. Feeling my nipples pebbling, I set the cup down, cross my arms, and spit out the first thing I can think of. “You mow for Mom?”

“Yes. She hates the job, and I don’t mind doing it. We worked out a deal.”

“I could do it while I’m here.”

“Hey, don’t interfere with our deal. Lily and I get a pie a week in exchange.”

“Oh.”

This is all too much for me when I still haven’t had a single drop of coffee. I pick up the cup and start to stand when Jason holds out his hand. “Let me get it. I need to have a word with Martha anyway. Lily wants an apple pie this week.”

“Sure,” I mumble. I hand over the cup, then sit back down on the swing.

“Black?”

I nod, unable to speak. Once he disappears inside, I suddenly realize what I must look like: bed head, hair sticking up all over the place, in my freaking mismatched pajamas and bare feet. Thank God I put a bra on at least. Pulling off the rubber band I always keep on my wrist, I frantically wind my hair into a bun. I doubt I look much better, but at least I don’t look like I just escaped the loony bin.

Why the hell didn’t I at least wash my face before coming downstairs?

The answer is simple and the downfall of most civilized society: the need for caffeine.

The door opens and Jason steps back out. He hands me the cup, then leans against the railing. “I do want to apologize again for last night. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

I sip the coffee to give myself some time to form an answer. Before I can speak, Jason continues. “How about brunch? I can finish both lawns within an hour and grab a shower. I’ll bring along the lesson plans if you want. Otherwise, we can spend the time getting reacquainted.”

This is way too much for my un-caffeinated brain to handle. I gulp down the coffee like a thirsty man in a desert.

Jason’s smile grows as he watches me. I can’t stand the perusal much more. Standing, I reply, “Sure.”

“One more word. You’re doing well.” He chuckles again, then heads for the steps. “Drink a few more cups. I need you in top form.”

Top form…yeah…right.

I watch him while he starts the lawn mower back up, then remember I’m supposed to be drinking more coffee. Heading into the house, my brain whips back to the fact that I’m going out with Jason in about an hour.

Forget coffee…I can’t go out looking like this.

Racing up the steps, I run for the bathroom.

JASON

I glance at myself in the bathroom mirror once more before heading down the hall. Getting to the bottom of the steps, I call out, “Ready, Lily?”

“Yeah,” my niece replies as she rises from the couch in the living room. She complains, “I am old enough to stay home alone sometimes, you know.”

“Thought you like spending time with Martha?”

“I do, but sometimes I want to be alone too.”

Uh-oh. ~Not something I want to explore today.~

I clap my hand down on her shoulder. “Maybe next time. Martha is looking forward to your visit.”

“I know.”

I lead Lily to the door, and we head across the yard. Entering through the back door, I call out, “We’re here, Martha.”

“Just in time,” she replies with a smile. “Well, Lily. I hear you want an apple pie. About time you learn how to bake one yourself.”

Watching Lily’s eyes light up relieves some of my misgivings. Leave it to Martha to find something to keep the kid entertained.

“Come on,” she gestures to Lily. “I’ll even let you cut up the apples.”

I half listen to Lily ask what is for lunch as Becca steps in the doorway. Jean jacket over a black gypsy shirt and a frilly multicolored skirt that goes down to her calves, she looks amazing. Oh, those calves…I always figured she had nice legs. Nice to see I was right.

On her feet were strappy little sandals that make her feet look sexy. A funky sea-green color decorates her toes. She smiles at me, then her gaze moves to my niece. Guessing her concern, I say, “Martha is going to teach Lily how to bake a pie.”

“Chancing messing up your deal, aren’t you?”

I smile at her. “I doubt it. Martha still hates to mow.”

“You’re darn right,” she says as she approaches. “Out with you two. Lily and I have things to do.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I hold my arm out to Becca. “Shall we?”

Becca takes my arm, and we head for the back door. Releasing her, I hold the door open. She eyes me for a moment, then walks past and out into the yard. What I wouldn’t give to know what Becca is thinking. Then again, maybe not.

Taking her arm, I lead her across the yard and to my car. Again, I move around and hold open the passenger door for her. As she slips in, Becca remarks, “A bit old-fashioned, aren’t you?”

“My mama taught me right,” I retort before shutting the door.

Making my way to the other side, I climb in, then say, “Hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving.”

“Fantastic.”

It only takes a few minutes to get across town. I pull into the local diner. “Been here before?”

“No,” she replies as she looks out the windshield. “How long has it been here?”

“Shortly after Mini’s closed a couple of years back.”

“Do they make milkshakes?”

I know why she is asking. Every kid in our school went to Mini’s for milkshakes. Smiling, I reply, “Almost as good as Mini’s.”

A smile lights up her face and makes my heart pound in my chest. Damn, I’ve got it bad already.

Her brown eyes sparkle as she says, “I might have to sacrifice my diet to try one.”

Remembering the corn dog from last night, I can’t help asking, “When did you start your diet?”

“This morning,” Becca replies, her eyes dancing with merriment.

“There’s always tomorrow,” I state, smiling back at her.

“Yes, there is.”

Laughing, I pull the keys out and open the door. I try to make it around the car before Becca gets out but fail. Instead, I hold my arm out to her. She arches an eyebrow at me, then takes it.

Smiling to myself, I lead the way to the restaurant. Her hand squeezes my arm as she mutters, “I guess your mama did raise you right.”

“Yes, yes she did,” I reply as we reach the door and I release her arm to open it for her.

We follow the waitress and sit in a booth in the back. Becca picks up the menu. “What’s good?”

“Chicken and waffles.”

“That’s just wrong.”

“What’s wrong about it? You anti-carb or something?”

She arches an eyebrow at me. “You saw me with the corn dog last night. Does that sound anti-carb?”

Laughing, I ask, “Okay, so what’s the problem?”

“I like chicken and I like waffles, but not together. Don’t be putting syrup on my chicken.” She ends by making a face.

She makes me laugh again. I could get used to this. The waitress approaches for our order and I gesture to Becca. “Ladies first.”

I receive an eye roll, then she orders a cheeseburger, onion rings, and a chocolate milkshake. No salad. What a woman! I order my chicken and waffles, then relax back in the seat. “So, why haven’t you been back much?”

“I couldn’t wait to get out of here after school. Outside of Mom, I had no reason to return.”

“This place isn’t that bad.”

Becca crosses her arms and arches an eyebrow. “I think you and I have very different memories of high school.”

“Possibly,” I reply, having only a vague idea of what her school life was like.

“Oh, please,” she retorts. “You were Mr. Popular. I was at the bottom, beyond anyone’s notice.”

“I noticed you in school.”

“Really?” she asks, her tone insinuating otherwise. “You never spoke to me.”

“Because I was a jackass back then.”

“And you’re not now?”

“Ouch,” I reply, laughing. “No, I’d like to think I’ve matured since then.”

“Good.”

Yes, good. Trying for a smile, I say, “You look great.”

Her eyes twinkle with humor. “Thank you for noticing.”

“So, why didn’t you come back to visit Martha more often?”

A flurry of emotions flit across Becca’s face before she replies, “Mom and I tend to rub each other the wrong way. We’re opposites. She talks about everything to everyone, and I’m more private. She likes watching game shows and cooking shows. I prefer movies and mysteries. We can’t seem to be together for long without fighting about something. Besides, it was easier for her to come visit me.”

“Easier for you?”

Becca shrugs. “As I said, I don’t have a lot of fond memories of this town.”

The waitress appears with the milkshake for Becca and my soda. She doesn’t even wait for the waitress to leave as Becca grabs the shake and sucks on the straw.

“And?” I ask, waiting for her judgement.

“It might be my faulty memory, but this is better than Mini’s.”

“Blasphemy,” I retort, giving her a dirty look.

She smiles that beautiful smile that makes my heart hammer again, then laughs. Her eyes dance with it, and my breath catches in my throat.

“Rebecca Dawson?”

Oh, shit. I hear the click-clack of her four-inch heels before I see Sylvia. She stops next to our table, dressed to the nines like always in one of her power suits with more jewelry than any woman needs and her overpowering perfume. The smile is off Becca’s face, tension replacing it.

I smile, trying to deflect her attention. “Hello, Sylvia.”

It doesn’t work, as she eyes Becca. Sitting back, Becca pushes the milkshake away and replies, “Sylvia, how have you been?”

“I heard you were back in town. Lost your job or something.”

Okay, now I see why Becca doesn’t care for Martha’s constant need to talk. That’s the problem with a small town; news travels fast.

Becca smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, an unfortunate situation.”

“That’s a shame,” Sylvia replies in a fake tone as she crosses her arms. “I know the grocery store is looking for clerks. You should go apply.”

I note the expression on Becca’s face. This might quickly turn into a catfight. Clearing my throat to get Sylvia’s attention, I say, “Nice of you to try to help, Sylvia. Isn’t Jonathan and the kids waiting for you?”

She turns her head to look at their table. After a dramatic sigh, she replies, “Yes, I better get back to them.” Her gaze falls back on me. “Rachel is looking forward to our game this week. Is Lily ready?”

“More than enough,” I reply, keeping my expression pleasant.

“Well, see you there.” Sylvia doesn’t even bother saying anything else to Becca as she turns and walks away.

Across from me, Becca watches her go, her expression a mixture of relief and fury. I can’t blame her. Her gaze returns to me. “She hasn’t changed much.”

My lips twitch with a smile. That’s a polite way of saying Sylvia is still a bitch. I nod. “No, she hasn’t changed at all.”

“Weren’t you two voted most likely to marry or something?”

God, she had to remember that. Cringing, I reply, “Yes.”

“What happened there? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Fair question, I suppose. Sylvia and I were pretty steady all through high school. I shrug. “She was more ambitious than I ever was. She wasn’t happy with my choice of majors in college. Wanted me to be more. We broke up within a few months of graduating.”

“What was your major?”

“History. Remember Mr. Johnson?”

“The history teacher, yes.”

“He knew I loved history and was thinking of becoming a teacher, and we’d talk often after class. He told me he would hold out for me to finish college before retiring if I wanted to try for his spot.”

“Interesting. I never knew that about you.”

Smiling, I reply, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

I eye her and decide to take a chance. “Would you like to learn more?”

“Perhaps,” she replies just as the waitress arrives with our food. I wait for her to take a bite of her burger before I ask, “How is it?”

“Are you sure Mini retired?”

Oh, this woman can make me laugh. Taking that as a good sign, I dig into my chicken and waffles.