Girl Next Door - The Complete Series (29 page)

I chose a sexy black miniskirt and topped it with a silky purple tank top with a handkerchief hem. I pulled a pair of smoky black panty hose onto my legs and slid my feet into my black stiletto ankle boots.

At five-eight, I towered over most people when I wore heels, even a couple of my boyfriends. I still wore them because I liked the way they made my legs look. Nat bitched constantly that she felt like a midget next to me. Since she was barely five-three barefoot, and her pumps usually bumped her up to five-six, I could understand her complaint. She was short.

Grinning to myself, I looked forward to an evening of picking on one of my besties, drinking too much, and flirting with any cute guy that caught my eye. My phone dinged, and I glanced at the screen. Nat was out front, ready to roll.

I chuckled to myself. She wasn’t happy about being DD, but the girl was knocked up, so it made sense she would have to be the one to drive. I know Cat was planning to get tipsy, if not plastered, tonight and I decided I was too. It had been way too long since I seriously cut loose.

Grabbing my purse and jacket, I headed out to the car. Time for some fun.

It was ten after midnight when Nat pulled up in front of the duplex. Cat was snoring in the back seat and I still felt pleasantly buzzed.

I looked over at Nat. “Thanks for the ride, ho. I had fun.”

Nat rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome, hooker. Now get your drunk ass inside so I can dump Miss Margarita back there at her house with her man.”

I giggled. “Let’s do this again sometime before you pop that kid out, okay?”

She nodded. “Sure thing. Now get inside. I’m about to turn into a pumpkin.”

I climbed out of the car and headed toward my front door. After I unlocked the deadbolt, I opened the door, waved at Nat over my shoulder, and went inside. I heard her horn beep one short honk before she drove off. I headed to the bedroom and dropped my bag on the bed.

The night was gorgeous, cool without being cold, so I went to the French doors in my bedroom. The doors led to a small back deck that was separated by lattice-work, one side for me, one for Troy.

I walked out onto the back deck and stared at my side of the backyard. Like the deck, the backyard was divided. The fence was waist-high, so it didn’t allow for a lot of privacy but it looked really nice. I put my palms against the railing and leaned on them.

The night with my girlfriends had been fantastic. We had gone to one of my favorite places, a Brazilian steakhouse, in Allen. The place had music and dancing after the dinner crowd was done around nine. It was a lot of fun and they had a fantastic outdoor bar area.

Nat, Cat, and I had ordered some appetizers and drinks, virgin for Nat, and spent a very enjoyable evening catching up. When the DJ started playing music, Cat and I had danced and I’d even danced with a couple of extremely cute guys. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure they were fresh out of college, and that was about six years too young for me. I could handle my man being one, two, or even three years younger than me, but I drew the line at boys who could legally drink little more than a year ago.

Now that I was home, I felt a little sad and a lot lonely. Unlike Nat and Cat, I didn’t have a husband at home, waiting to hold me at night. It made my chest ache to think that I might never have that. I felt tears well up in my eyes and trickle out. Irritated, I wiped them away. Jesus, I was truly drunk if I was feeling this maudlin.

“Are you okay?”

I jumped and looked to my right. Troy was leaning over his own railing, watching me with a concerned expression on his face.

Embarrassed to be caught moping, I brushed away the last few tears. “I’m fine. I just drank too much, and now I’m feeling sorry for myself.”

Troy nodded. “I hear that happens.” He cocked his head to the side, studying me.

Somehow I got the impression that he wasn’t missing a single twitch in my expression, as though he knew exactly what I was thinking and feeling.

“Well, it’s late. I think I’m going to bed.”

I started to go back inside but Troy’s voice stopped me.

“Wait.”

I looked at him, saying nothing, just doing as he asked, waiting.

Most of his face was in shadow, only the slight glint of his eyes was visible. “Yesterday, you said you didn’t know what kind of game I was playing. I don’t play games, Amy. I’m up front about what I want.”

I licked my lips. My mouth felt like it was filled with sand and bone dry. “What do you want?” I whispered.

“You.”

I blinked at him, my heart starting to pound against my breastbone.

“Go to bed, Amy. Dream of me.”

Unable to think of a response, I went inside and did as he said.

The sound of chimes woke me. Groaning, I opened one eye and looked at the clock. It was 7 a.m. Who the heck was ringing my doorbell at seven in the morning on a Sunday? Obviously it was someone who was ready to die a painful, bloody death.

After my strange exchange with Troy last night, I had trouble sleeping. I tossed and turned restlessly, and, when I did sleep, I dreamed of Troy. The ass. The doorbell rang again, this time the person pressed the button several times in a row. Obviously the idiot with a death wish was getting impatient to meet his maker.

Growling under my breath, I got out of bed, threw on a robe, and walked through the house to the front door. I looked out the window and froze. Grayson stood on my front porch, looking irritated. He was supposed to be out of town for a conference, not standing on my doorstep at the crack of dawn.

Confused, I threw open the front door. His face broke into a smile when he saw me.

“Grayson? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you in Cleveland for your conference?”

He stepped forward and, without thinking, I stepped back to let him into the house. His hands went to my waist, and he kissed me lightly on the lips.

“I came back early. I couldn’t wait to see you.”

My stomach tightened. Damn, I should have had this conversation with him a while ago. Obviously he was feeling more into me than I was into him.

I stepped back. “Um, let me go get dressed then I’ll make us a cup of coffee, and we can have breakfast.”
And talk
, I thought.

Grayson grinned cheerfully and stuck his hands into his jacket pockets. I hurried back to my bedroom and started shimmying into my clothes as quickly as possible. I was wearing a bra and yoga pants when two hands slid around my waist, and Grayson’s body pressed up against my back.

“How about we have breakfast in bed?”

Shit. Apparently we had to have this conversation now before things got out of hand. I was hoping to discuss it over breakfast and coffee and in a civilized manner.

“Um, Grayson?” I said, gently peeling his hands off my torso. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Hmm.” His lips hit the skin of my neck, and he kissed his way to my ear.

Ugh. I hated it when men played with my ears. It just felt weird. I couldn’t control my reaction, which was to jerk away.

“Amy?” he asked.

I grabbed my shirt and yanked it over my head as quickly as possible.

“Look, Grayson. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I don’t think that the feelings I have toward you are the same type of feelings you have toward me.” I twisted my hands together in front of me. “I really like spending time with you and I always have fun when we go out but the feelings I have are more like the ones I would have toward a friend.”

There. That wasn’t too harsh. I knew it wouldn’t be a comfortable conversation, but that was a decent start.

“What?” He blinked at me rapidly. “What did you just say?”

I sucked in a deep breath. Damn this was hard. I was usually the dumpee, not the dumper.

“I think we would be better suited as friends, Grayson. I like hanging out with you and I’d like us to remain friends, but I don’t think we should date anymore.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” he scoffed.

Damn, I felt horrible about this, but I wasn’t going to keep dating a guy that I wasn’t attracted to.

“No, Grayson.”

“For two fucking months, I’ve been wining and dining you, patiently waiting for you to uncross your fucking legs, and now you’re telling me it’s over,” he ranted.

What in the hell? “Excuse me?” I asked.

He scowled at me. “You heard me.”

I put a hand on my hip. “Yeah, I did and what I heard is making me damn glad that I didn’t make the giant mistake of sleeping with you!”

He leaned toward me, and I felt threatened. It was not a feeling I was fond of. I shifted closer to my nightstand. When Nat and Aidan had gotten together, she had problems with her ex that had ended badly. Very badly. As in she had to fight him off and he had gone to prison. It made me realize how vulnerable I was as a single woman.

Right after that, I bought my first hand gun. Now, I went to the shooting range once a month to keep my skills sharp. Sometimes Nat went with me.

At that moment, I was glad of it. Grayson’s behavior was making me very nervous. I shifted toward my nightstand, where I kept my pistol.

“You know what you are? You’re a prissy fucking cock tease,” he yelled.

That was enough. “I think you need to leave, Grayson,” I said levelly.

He took another step toward me and I backed up toward my night stand again, resting my hand on top.

“Who’s gonna make me, Amy? You?” he sneered.

My muscles locked up. Grayson had yet to truly make me angry in the short time we had been dating, but now I was beyond angry. I was livid. He shouldn’t push me because I’d be happy to show him how I would get him out of my house, and I had a feeling he wouldn’t like it.

Before I could answer, something banged against my bedroom wall, hard. Then Troy’s deep voice roared, “No, I will, and you don’t want me to come over there, motherfucker. So get out now!”

Grayson had seen Troy last weekend. He was in decent shape but nothing like the muscled body of my neighbor. His face paled.

He looked at me. “This isn’t over,” he muttered. I noticed he kept his voice low. Probably hoping that my neighbor wouldn’t hear him.

It didn’t work, Troy still heard. “Yes, it is, fuckwad. Now get lost.”

His shoulders hunched, Grayson turned and scurried out of my bedroom. My shaky legs wouldn’t hold me any longer, so I sat down heavily on the side of the bed. A few seconds later, I heard the front door slam.

“Damn,” I whispered, scrubbing my face with my hands. “What a way to start a Sunday morning.”

“Amy?” Troy’s voice was quiet but I could hear him even though he was in his own bedroom. “You okay?”

The walls really were thin. “Yeah,” I answered.

“That guy is a douchebag.”

Yes, he was. I guess my strategy of dating men who weren’t pretty boys wasn’t any better than dating the men I normally chose. It seemed they all had the asshat gene. I sighed.

“And two months is nothing if a man is waiting for a woman like you.”

My chest squeezed so tightly I couldn’t breathe. Oh my God.