Boy Next Door (Parkside Avenue Book #2) (7 page)

Me neither. With my worst suspicions
confirmed, the urge to find Kendrick gnawed at my insides, as I wiped a piece
of bread across the last of my soup, but I didn’t have the time. I had fifteen
minutes before I was due to meet Cora, and I still had to change.

Choosing to cover my T-shirt with
a lightweight, cotton sweater—which erred on the tight side since hitting the
uni gym—almost identical in colour to my thin, black jeans, I studied my
reflection. Kendrick was right. A trip to the barber’s wouldn’t go amiss. I
hadn’t had a fringe that touched my nose since I was fourteen, when I first saw
Sweeney Todd and refused to have my hair cut for a year. Other than that, I
looked good, and I was reasonably convinced that I portrayed the right amount
of maturity needed to convince Cora I could be in her life. I arrived next door
at twelve-thirty on the dot.

She was waiting.

Chapter Nine

I stepped inside. “Ready to go?”

She nodded and swivelled to grab her
purse from the hall table. As she turned, her flirty skirt flew up to reveal
the back of her knees, and the sheer, almost see-through, sleeveless blouse
rippled with the movement of the air. It was a very distracting outfit. How was
I supposed to keep the trip professional when she looked like that? If she wore
something similar for her date, I knew exactly how much the guy would be dying
to get his filthy hands on her, and the thought filled me with dread.

“You might want to put on a
jacket,” I noted. “It looks like rain.”

“Maybe. But it’s warm. I’ll be
fine.” She paused with her key in the lock, waiting for me to exit. “Are we
doing this or not?”

It was a short journey to the
local DIY store, housing a small gardening section at the back, and before long,
we were standing amongst the plant pot filled benches, reading the accompanying
information tags. I stood back and watched as Cora took pleasure in sniffing
the blossoms and running her fingers through the soft tufts of the alpines. If
that was her thing, I had a tuft she could finger, no problem. I noticed she
was still wearing her wedding ring, and once I’d seen it, I couldn’t ignore the
fact. If someone had shit on me, as her husband had done to her, I wouldn’t be
keeping a souvenir. When she looked up and smiled, I felt compelled to ask. “Why
haven’t you got rid of that?” I pointed to her finger.

“What? Oh, the ring. Yes, I know
I should take it off, but my finger feels bare without it. Do you think I’m
wrong to leave it on?”

“You’re not married anymore.”

“Thank you for the reminder.”

“Does the ring not do that, all
by itself?”

“Not really. It’s been there so
long, I hardly notice it anymore.” She picked up a Japonica bush. “What about
this one. It will look pretty when it gets its berries.”

“It will, but if you plan to have
grandchildren playing in your garden anytime soon, I suggest something less
poisonous, like this Astilbe.”

She frowned. “The plant, I like. The
reference to grandchildren, I could do without,” she said.

Yeah, nice one, Johnny. Good
call, you idiot
.

After my gaffe, I made sure to
keep the conversation strictly horticultural, and our trolley filled up in no
time at all. A small amount of subtle persuasion was all it took to steer
Cora’s choices in the direction of what I already had in mind. Her laugh
surfaced and despite her trying to distance herself from me, I could tell she
enjoyed herself more than she let on. A collection of shrubs for the border and
four trays of multicoloured annuals were nestled on the metal mesh, when the
clouds opened, and we rushed inside under a deluge.

I shook the rain from my head
like a wet dog, and my eyes were drawn to Cora’s chest. Her rain soaked blouse was
clinging to her hardened nipples. I couldn’t help staring, and my dick twitched
with interest.

Cora’s eyes dropped. She bit her
lip and pulled at the front of her blouse to unstick it from her breasts, but
when she let go, it welded straight back.

A sales boy appeared from behind
a stand, and stopped dead. He sniggered.

“What you looking at?” I snarled.
“Haven’t you got a job to do?”

He shrugged and returned to
studying his clipboard.

Cora folded her arms over her
embarrassment.

“Hate to say I told you so,” I
said, removing my jumper. “Here.” I draped the soggy wool around her shoulders
and arranged the dangling arms for optimum coverage, sneakily curling my
knuckles under the cuffs to cop a small feel.

She held my gaze and shivered.
“Thank you.”

***

After a tense drive home, Cora
rushed inside to change. The rain had passed and blue sky was visible between
the clouds. I set about unloading our purchases from the car, and was placing
the last pot on the path, when Cora re-emerged. Without meeting my eye, she
handed back my jumper as I slammed down the rear door. Something was wrong.
“Cora?”

“I’m going to be late,” she said,
as she climbed into the car, stuck the gears in reverse, and backed down the
driveway. She glanced across at me before hitting the accelerator.

I had no idea what had happened. Cora
had been acting perfectly normally, friendly even, up until the rain incident. After
that, she’d handed her credit card over to the cashier in silence, and even
though I tried to break it, the silence had continued throughout the journey
back to Parkside Avenue.

Her behaviour change had happened
after I touched her. Why? It wasn’t the first time. She’d said nothing when I’d
brushed a side boob whilst helping her on with her dress, or later that day,
when I’d held her hand. And she’d laughed at the handprints on her bum. Surely,
if she objected to me touching her, I’d have had a slap by now. Women were so
fucking complicated.

When Cora returned from town, she
brought the rain back with her. Her previously sodden rats’ tails had been
transformed into a smart and sexy updo of soft curls. She ran straight past me,
holding her handbag over her head.

I finished planting the line of
petunias, threw the potting trays in the rubbish, and entered through the
kitchen door.

“Cora,” I shouted. “I’m done.” Receiving
no answer, I walked down the corridor, heading for the stairs. “I said I’m d—”
Cora stepped from the bottom of the stairs at the same time as I turned to go up
them, and we almost collided.

“Oh, J-Johnny. Yes. I-I got some
cash out for you. Here you are.” She drew a wad of notes from her wallet. “For
a job well done,” she said with a weak smile.

“No problem,” I said, accepting
the money. “Can’t wait to start on the back.”

“No rush. Now I’m no longer
embarrassed by frontal appearances, there’s no hurry to fix the back.” She
walked past me with her eyes glued to the floor.

There was nothing embarrassing
about her frontal appearance. I’d seen that first-hand, this afternoon. “So, you
won’t mind if I take a break to do another small job first, then? I’m meeting
with a prospective client tonight. I mean, I might not get the gig, but …”

The front door opened, and Cora’s
knuckles whitened as they gripped the knob waiting for me to exit. “Don’t worry
about it. Goodbye, Johnny.” It was a clear brush-off, as hurtful as a stab in
the gut.

“Okay. Well …” I patted the cash
against my palm with irritation. “I hope you have an enjoyable evening.”
Secretly, I was pissed off at her cold behaviour and hoped she had a really
shitty evening, and I was kicking myself for not pressing our earlier date. Too
late now. Whatever was going to happen was out of my control.

Chapter Ten

The bathwater was freezing. The
heat had disappeared along with my composure. I’d tried to relax and soak away
my frustrations about Cora, but the more I thought about her, the more wound up
I became. Had I done something to upset her, or was her behaviour merely nerves
about her date? It shouldn’t bother me either way, but it did … a lot. And as
much as I tried not to think about the way she’d thrown me out of her house,
and would soon be making eyes at another man, a mental picture of her getting
hot and sweaty with some son of a bitch pawing at her ass had buried its claws
into my brain and wouldn’t let go.

My meeting was scheduled for
seven-thirty, and I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early. A delicious
aroma saturated my senses as soon as I entered. Decorated entirely in purple
and silver, it was a high-class joint; one I could only dream about dining in.
The cost of a meal alone would probably be enough to wipe out the average
person’s weekly wage. I glanced down at the shirt and tie I’d worn to impress,
and still felt underdressed. Tailored suits and cocktail dresses filled the
moulded chairs. Lights dangled over every table from metal chains, and the bar
shelves groaned under the weight of the top class liquor.

I was greeted by a tuxedo-clad
man and ushered upstairs to the manager’s office, as if he were ashamed of my
presence. Once there, I listened intently to the manager’s wishes, and showed
off my portfolio, before he accompanied me down to the patio area, where the
work was to take place. It was not as big a job as I’d hoped, replacing a
couple of dead trees, and increasing the number of planters filled with hardy
evergreens. I guessed the need for speed was why I’d been chosen; my new
business would be less likely to have a waiting list. The fact that it was a
rush job was no problem for me. With so little to do, I’d have it completed within
a couple of days. Still, work was work. A price was agreed and hands were
shaken. Then I was escorted to the bar and offered a drink on the house, before
I left. I accepted gratefully, having nothing better to do, and sat at the bar
nursing a cold beer.

I’d almost finished my drink when
a couple caught my eye. I was too far away to hear their conversation, but the
man’s face was stern, almost disapproving. He shook his head as he laid a hand
on the woman’s arm. Her distaste at his touch was obvious. She shook his hand
away and stood abruptly, snatching her napkin from her lap and slamming it onto
the table. Other diners halted mid-mouthful to watch the altercation. The woman
turned and my heart stopped. It was Cora.

She stepped away from the table
as her date stood and snagged her arm in an attempt to pull her back. Anger
tore at my insides. I wanted to pummel his face into the plush furnishings. How
dare he put his hands on her? I shot from my stool and was at her side in
seconds. “Take your hands off the lady.”

Cora’s date scowled. “Mind your
own business.”

“It is my business. Cora is a
friend of mine. So, I repeat, remove your hand from her arm.”

“Or what?”

I glanced around at the faces
frowning at the disturbance. This wasn’t the kind of joint you started a fight
in. “Or we could continue this conversation outside.” Audacity puffed out my
chest, as he carried out a top to toe assessment before his grip loosened and
fell. “Thought not,” I said.

“Johnny, were you following me?”
Cora asked.

“Of course not. The meeting I
told you about was with the manager of this place. I had no idea it was the
same restaurant you were coming to with your date. It seems fate wanted me
here.”

Our dispute brought a waiter to
my side. He addressed Cora. “Is there a problem here, madam?”

“No,” she replied. “No problem. I
was just leaving. Johnny, could you … take me home, please?”

I beamed a gloating victory at
her date, before realising I had a severe lack of wheels. Ah, hell. Who cared?
We could always call a taxi. “My pleasure,” I said, offering Cora the crook of
my arm.

“You’re leaving?” The man’s acne
scarred face puckered further with loathing. “With this … boy?”

“I am. Yes.” Cora snatched her
shawl from the back of her chair, turned on her heels, and grabbed my arm. “Because
I’m certainly … not staying here … with you.”

His voice followed us. “You’re
welcome to her. Two-bit drunk.”

My blood boiled, and it took all
my strength to hold back. If I hadn’t cared about causing a scene and getting
thrown off the new job before I’d even picked up a trowel, I would have punched
the fat bastard in the nose without a second thought.

As I escorted Cora towards the
entrance, her heel buckled, and she stumbled into my arms. She giggled.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m a little woozy. I may have
had … one glass of wine too many.”

“What, just the one?”

She clenched her teeth, and her
mouth stretched over them, as she pinched her thumb and forefinger together. “I
had a couple to settle my nerves … before I came.” The forefinger pressed
against her bottom lip. “It may not … have been the best idea.”

I suppressed a laugh. She was
funny when she was tipsy. Like a little girl. “You don’t say. Did you drive
here?”

She nodded and pointed aimlessly in
half a dozen different directions. “The Audi’s over there … somewhere,” she
said. Man, the drink had really taken hold. She was shitfaced.

“Where? In that tree? Or perhaps
you meant inside the grocery store next door?” She slumped into my arms, her
weight heavy on my chest. I held her upright.

“Please, just get me to my bed,”
she said.

It was everything I wanted to
hear, at the worst possible time. As much as the thought made my heart ache and
my dick throb with anticipation, I’d never take advantage of a woman in need.
“Give me your keys before you pass out.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” she
slurred.

When I finally located the car,
Cora clung to me as I eased her into the front seat. I loved the way it felt to
be needed by her. I hadn’t been needed by anyone since Mum died last summer,
and Dad had reached out in his grief, calling for the company of his sons to
remind him he still had something to live for. I’d thought he was coping, that
eventually he would come to accept his loss, but he went downhill rapidly when
I had to return to uni for the start of the new term, and slipped into a
depression which could only ever have had one conclusion. I blamed myself. I
shouldn’t have gone. Maybe if I’d stayed, he’d still be alive, but I’d put my
studies before my father’s wellbeing. Something I’ve regretted ever since. Cora
was suffering from a different kind of grief, but she was still hurting, and this
time, I would be there to see her through to the other side.