Bedding The Biker Next Door (6 page)

He stood there, staring at the threshold for a long time. The house didn’t smell the same anymore. When Mom was alive, there was always the aroma of fresh flowers or something baking in the oven. Now, it smelled musty. Empty.
Hi Mom, I’m home.
Cole dropped his bag and closed the door behind him, trying his best to hold it together.

The front door opened into the living room. He walked over to the big glass hutch that covered one whole wall. It was filled with antique teapots, dishes, snow globes, and figurines. His mom had loved antiques and there’d been many Saturday mornings when Cole was a boy that she would wake him up early and drag him out to a swap meet or yard sale. She never visited antique stores or bought her things directly because she loved the hunt. Some days, they’d go to ten yard sales and come home empty-handed. Other days, they’d go to just one, and his mom would find herself another treasure to proudly display in the giant hutch that Cole’s grandfather built for her before he passed away.

Cole opened the hutch and took out one of the teacups. His big hands could hardly grasp the dainty handle, and quickly put it down, worried he was going to crush it.

What the fuck was he supposed to do with all this stuff?

It wasn’t like he was going to put it on display in his apartment. But each delicate teacup reminded him of his mother, so he’d be damned if he’d throw them away either. He decided right then that he’d pack everything up, putting into storage the things that had been most precious to him and his mom, then donating the rest.

He left the living room and ambled down the hall to his old bedroom. He smiled when he pushed open the door. Cole had been living on his own since he was eighteen years old, but his room still looked exactly the way he’d left it the last time he’d spent the night there. He entered and sat down on the bed, feeling like his heart was being ripped from his chest. Despite raising a child on her own, his mother had made sure he had everything he ever needed and most of what he wanted.

Over at the shelves above his old desk, he picked up a faded photo of him in a football uniform—
Go Mavericks!
He thought back to the first time he’d put on that gold and green uniform. He was so proud back then, his mother so nervous about injuries. Cole grew to his full height later in life, along with his bulk, but only after hours spent sweating at the gym. At thirteen years old, though, he was six inches shorter and ten pounds lighter than most of his peers. The coach benched him the entire first game.

That evening, after Cole and his mother got home from the game, his mother saw how upset he was. Putting aside her own fears about him playing football with boys so much bigger, she sat down at the kitchen table and used a crayon and napkin to give him a crash course in Football 101. A cheerleader back in her day, his mom had once been in love with the captain of her school’s football team. Apparently she’d paid a lot of attention to the game.

After giving him a lesson, she told him that when the game started the following Saturday, he should stand next to the coach on the sidelines and be the “squeaky wheel.” “Of course, you need to know what you’re doing, but the best way to learn is by getting out there and getting some experience, right? Every time he even looks like he’s going to put someone in, remind him you’re there and ready,” she told him.

Cole had taken her advice.

At the next practice, he impressed the offensive coach with how much better he understood the game. And at the game that Saturday, Cole followed the head coach up and down the sidelines like a little shadow telling him he was ready. The coach finally put him in just to shut him up. Cole played like a champ that night, and from then on, he was never benched again.

Now, Cole put the photograph back on the shelf. He took a deep breath. He was going to have to just do this.

He was heading into the garage to grab some boxes when the doorbell rang. Frowning, he headed to the front door.

He opened it, ready to ward off a misguided solicitor. Instead, he took in a swift breath when he saw her. Shock rattled through him.

Jill?

His one-night stand stood on his mother’s front porch—her face in profile so she hadn’t noticed him yet. She wore a purple shirt and jeans that were spotted with chalk, paint, and what looked like flour. Didn’t matter. She looked beautiful. Memories of the way her curves had felt and her hair had smelled barreled down on him.

She’d been amazing in bed. The best he’d ever had. But the question remained—what the hell was she doing here?

* * *

At the sound of the door opening, Jill turned her head. She felt the blood drain from her face. Just as quickly, a deep blush heated it back up. She stared at her tattooed-biker-sex-god from the night before, hardly able to believe her eyes. What was he doing in Stella’s house?

Oh God,
she thought.
Now I’ve gone and done it. I had a one-night stand with a stalker.

But could he be considered a stalker given she’d shown up at
his
door? Yes, she decided. If he’d been watching her. Waiting for her…

No, there had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for him being here. It’d been a few months since Stella died, and Jill still felt horrible that she’d been out of state on a rare vacation for a cousin’s wedding when it had happened. She hadn’t even made it back for the funeral. Today was the first time someone had come into the house since then. She wanted to make sure everything was okay. She sure hadn’t expected to see her one-night stand open the door. Was he a repairman, contracted to fix up the house before a sale?

Slowly, it dawned on her that Cole still stood there, one hand on the doorjamb, puzzlement etched across his face. Realizing he was waiting for her to speak, she sucked in a deep breath and steadied her nerves.

“Um, what are you doing here?” she asked, measuring her voice to keep it even.

He didn’t exactly look pleased to see her. In fact, he looked wary, like maybe he was thinking
she
was the stalker… “You came to
my
door,” he said. “What are
you
doing here?”

He
did
think she was the crazy one!

“I live next door,” she said quickly, wondering how everything had gone wrong so quickly. “Or…did you know that already?”

Cole looked confused. “No, I actually didn’t know that. But this is my mom’s house.”

His mother?

“You’re Stella’s son? Colton? The one she tried to set me up with?” Colton.
Cole
. Damn it! Shock radiated throughout her system. Her one-night stand was the very man Stella had said Jill would be perfect for. Jill had always politely declined Stella’s invitations to meet the woman’s son. She wasn’t at a point in her life where she wanted to be in any kind of relationship—in truth, maybe she never would be. Not because she didn’t want a partner to share her life with, but because she didn’t want to saddle said partner with the burden of being with a woman who had a fifty percent chance of inheriting her father’s early on-set Alzheimer’s.

Cole’s gaze caught hers and held, and suddenly the fire that had been banked there flared back to life. Heat replaced the cold shock. Since she’d never actually seen a photo of Stella’s son—because she’d shot the idea of dating him down from the get-go—she hadn’t exactly known what a good thing she was passing up at the time.

Wow. But how to handle this situation now?

“I…uh…” she stumbled. “I didn’t realize last night that...uh...”

“Wait, so you knew my mom?” Pain flickered in his eyes, then he closed them and raked a hand through his hair. In that moment, despite his stature, tattoos, and bulging muscles, the last thing he resembled was a tough guy. He looked…lost.

Instinctively, she reached out to touch him, her hand freezing then dropping when he abruptly opened his eyes and took a step back.

“You’re the tenant from next door. Of course.” He laughed as if he was in on some private joke. The sound was more bitter than humorous. “My mom talked about you. She liked you…a lot.”

“I liked her, too. I’m so sorry for your loss.” Jill felt tears sting her eyes and looked away, blinking. “Stella was such a sweet lady.” More than sweet. Despite her illness, Stella had been strong and there for her in so many ways. And she’d shared that strength with Jill at a time when she really needed it.

They’d met while they’d both been undergoing chemo. It wasn’t nearly as serious for Jill. She had a small lump removed, and the doctor, while he’d recommended chemo to completely kill any missed cancerous cells, reassured her that they’d caught things early and she should be fine. But it had still been a scary time for her, something Stella understood perfectly. She’d done her best to distract Jill, talking about her amazing son, then going so far as to rent Jill the house next door, since Jill said she needed a bigger place to start the daycare.

She glanced back at Cole. Her heart ached for him. From everything Stella had told her, they’d been very close. Stella had mentioned more than once how guilty she’d felt that Cole, at only sixteen, had clipped his wings and given up his dreams of traveling the globe after she’d been diagnosed with cancer. He’d refused to be too far from her. Now things were different, but before he started living his life, he obviously had to deal with the fact that his mother was no longer going to be part of it.

“Anyway…” Jill wrung her hands. “I—um—came by to apologize about Stanley, the little boy, for disturbing you earlier. It won’t happen again—I’ve spoken to the teacher’s aid. And, uh, I admit, I was curious to see who was here.”

“Ah. Not a problem. I liked Stanley.” He smiled. “So you run the daycare next door.” He leaned against the door jam, still studying her, but he didn’t invite her in.

“You remembered I own a daycare.”

He looked at her strangely. “Of course. I remember everything about last night.”

Her eyes fell as she contemplated her nails. Standing there, she could smell the scent of his skin, his cologne or deodorant, or whatever it was. She remembered the way he felt inside her. Images from last night flitted through her mind, and she could only hope he wasn’t doing the same thing. That woman last night—that wasn’t her. She’d let loose for one night and one night only, thinking no one would ever know. This was just awkward.

She snuck another glance at him, but his gaze caught hers. For a second, it took her back to that first look—that moment of instant connection—in the bar.

“I don’t know…” …
how to handle this. How to reconcile this man being here, invading my regular life.

Cole reached over and gently ran his thumb down her jaw, an intimate touch she wasn’t prepared for. Jill closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his flesh against hers. “What don’t you know?”

She swallowed hard and gently pulled her chin away. For a second, his hand hung in the air, as if he didn’t know what to do with it, then he pushed both hands into his jean pockets. “We have a college intern working with us. I’ll make sure you’re not bothered again.”

“Jill, you weren’t bothering me. Stanley wasn’t bothering me either. Do you want to come in?”

The abrupt invitation threw her. Was he thinking they could…?

But no. He looked sad, lonely maybe, but not horny. He probably just wanted some company to distract himself from the pain of being inside his mother’s home. And she could give him that. Again. For a few minutes, at least. When she’d left the daycare five minutes ago, Liz and Monica had just started an art project with the kids.

Still, she hesitated, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d been having sex with Stella’s son. This huge, gorgeous man was the “little boy” that Stella used to talk about all the time. She should decline his invitation to come inside. They’d already made it weird by having sex before they even knew each other. This was supposed to have been a one-night thing, and while that was complicated by the fact Cole was Stella’s son and her new-and-who-knew-for-how-long-neighbor, she shouldn’t complicate it any further.

Which is why it made no sense when she smiled and said, “Sure,” then stepped through the door.

Chapter Five

Cole’s heart thumped loudly in his chest as he closed the door and faced Jill, hoping the hard-on throbbing in his jeans wasn’t obvious. God, he wanted her. But now wasn’t the time to get horizontal, he reminded himself. Everything had changed the moment he’d opened the door and he still felt off balance. And from the way Jill’s expressions flitted from one to another to another, she was just as discombobulated as he. He leaned back against the door, wanting to say something—anything—to put her at ease when it was clear she wasn’t. But he floundered, again filled with the conflicting urges to run to her but also push her away, just like he’d been when he’d first spotted her in that bar.

She crossed her arms protectively against her chest and glanced around the house.

“Jill—”

“Cole,” she said at the same time.

A nervous giggle bubbled up from her throat. “This is crazy! I don’t even know what to say. We weren’t supposed to see each other again. I mean, this is awkward, right?”

“Awkward. Sure, that’s one way to describe it.” He straightened and tried for a grin but rubbed his neck instead. “Follow me.” He led her through the living room to the kitchen. Once there, she sat on a wooden stool. He leaned on his elbows over the counter. “Is seeing me so awful?” he said, attempting a joke. “You saw a lot more of me last night…”

For a moment a smile flashed across her face and her cheeks went delightfully pink. “No, of course it’s not awful.” Then the smile faded and the color lost its bloom. A shadow crossed her eyes. “Well, the circumstances are awful. Because of why you’re here. I mean, I assume you’re here to…”

Go through your dead mother’s things.

The unspoken words hung in the air. He tensed again.

“Oh God. I’m sorry,” she said. “I can tell this is hard for you, and I’m only making it worse.”