Neighbors (13 page)

Twenty
-One

We fa
ll into a regular routine over the next few weeks. Some days he has to work late, other days I have to stay at the hospital past my shift, but we always manage to make it work. On rainy days, Dylan doesn’t work on outside projects, so he makes up the time on the weekends. While he’s home he works on his own home projects. In the month since I’ve moved in, the downstairs bathroom has been renovated and his house looks wonderful. He truly is a gifted craftsman.

“I think I’m going to replac
e the kitchen cabinets,” he says one Sunday morning. “I need you to help me pick out something you like.”

“Me? It’s your kitchen.” I’m
surprised at his request.

“You live here, too. I want it to be something you’re happy with also.”

“I’ll be fine with whatever you choose.” I don’t want him to be stuck with something he’d hate. Then I’d feel responsible that he’d have to look at something just because I like it. What if things don’t work out between us, although I don’t want to think of that, he’d be stuck with cabinets I picked.

He insists
, and since it’s raining on Monday, we go to the cabinet place he uses for his contracting jobs. The salesman shakes his hand and I can tell that they’ve known each other a while.

“
Dylan, how are you, you old rascal?” His hair is almost all gray and by the size of his waist I can tell that his wife is a good cook. “What can I do you for today?”

“I’m looking to replace the cabinets in my own kitchen, Pete. I know you make the best cabinets and was hoping you’d help me out.”

Pete smiles. “Sure. Anything for you, Dylan.” Pete looks over and winks at me. “This guy brings me lots of business. Now it’s my turn to help him.” He returns his attention to Dylan. “So what do you and the Mrs. want to see? Something in a pine, or cherry wood? What’s your pleasure?”

I blush
at his reference of me and look down. Dylan doesn’t correct him. “Pete, this is Melissa.” Pete and I shake hands. Then Dylan smiles at me. “I don’t know, what do you think, Mel?”

My head flips
up. “Me? Um, I don’t know.”

“Now that’s a first,” Pete laughs
. “Usually the gals come in with all the plans. They don’t stop talking until the entire room is sketched out and the cabinets ordered. The guys can’t get a word in edgewise. Am I right, Dylan?”

Dylan confirms his statement with a nod
.

“See?” Pete says
to me. Then he reaches under the counter and pulls out a photo album. In it are snapshots of kitchens with cabinets that have been ordered from him. They are all beautiful, but a natural-stained, pine cabinet with simple lines catches my eye. Dylan notices my expression. “Yes, I like that one, too. Okay, Pete. It’s going to be these.”

“Wait,” I protest
. “You should pick what you like.”

Pete laughs
. “I’ll be right back with the graph paper.” Then he disappears into a room behind the counter.

“You should pick what you like,
Dylan,” I repeat.

“I do like it. And, I like them even more because
you picked them out.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

Dylan
and Pete sketch out the dimensions of Dylan’s kitchen-to-be with the measurements Dylan brought. While I look at hardware for the outside of the doors, the two men discuss price and Dylan puts a deposit on his order.

“I’ll give you
a call when they’re ready,” Pete says.

Dylan
shakes his hand for a second time. “Great. Thanks, Pete.”

“No problem. Nice to
meet you, little lady,” he says to me.

“Same here,” I return
as Dylan and I walk out the door.

“Thanks for your help,”
Dylan says holding my hand as we walk toward the car.

“You’re welcome, but I wish you wouldn’t have put so much responsibility on me.”

“You handle people’s lives every day and you’re afraid of picking out cabinets?” He chuckles.

We drive for a while and at a stoplight he turns
toward me. “Oh, my dad’s invited us for dinner tonight. Do you want to go? I think he wants to introduce you to his wife, Maria.”

“Um, sure. I’d love to meet her.”

Twenty-Two

Maria Townsend is a beautiful brunette who is closer to my age than to Dylan’s fathers. Her long, thin, manicured fingers cradle a wine goblet as she backs away from the door to let us in. I’m sure the designer blouse and slacks she has on cost more than my entire wardrobe.

“
Maria,” Dylan says, giving her a swift kiss on the cheek. “This is Melissa.”

I ho
ld my hand out to shake hers, but she doesn’t return the courtesy. Instead, her eyes move up and down over me. It makes me uncomfortable to be assessed by someone who is so beautiful and knows it.

Stuart Townsend appears from another room. He hugs his son and then hugs
me. It takes me off guard, but it makes me feel welcome. “Melissa, so nice to see you again. I never thanked you for those cookies the day Dylan moved into the house.” I make a mental note:
Stuart has a “warm fuzzy” personality.

“Those were the cookies that started my life,”
Dylan says, just before planting a kiss on my forehead. Maria glares at me.

Stuart claps
Dylan on the back. “So, come on in. Gretta has made the most awesome meal.”

“Gretta?” I ask
.

“Our cook,” Maria clarifies
with condescension. I’m quickly becoming aware that Maria is not a warm fuzzy.

We si
t at an elaborately set table. Fine Lennox china with gold leaf around the edges is surrounded by elegant flatware. A middle-aged woman, with a tight grey bun where her head and neck meet, is dressed in a housemaid’s uniform. She’s holding a tray of food. She smiles as she serves each one of us, beginning with Maria, who scowls at her. When she gets to me, I thank her politely. Maria’s scowl is redirected toward me.

“So, I hear you two
are living together,” Maria says, looking down her nose at me. More judgment.

I force
a smile, as my cheeks get hot. I look down at the fabric napkin in my lap and remember that Dylan dated her for a short time before he dumped her and she dug her claws into Stuart.

“Yeah, that way I can be with Melissa all the time.”
Dylan grips my hand. Stuart gives us a smile.

Maria reclines
in her chair, staring. Appraising me, like a buyer sizes up a piece of art at an auction. It makes me uncomfortable. Accomplishing her deed to make me self-conscious, her gaze wanders to Dylan. She devours him with her eyes. Dylan doesn’t seem to notice as he’s engaged in a conversation with Stuart.

“Did you guys bring bathing suits?”
Stuart asks. “The water in the pool is set for 85 degrees.”

“I think I left one when I stayed
here,” Dylan says.

“How about you, Melissa?” Stuart focuses his attention on me.

I had not brought a bathing suit, not knowing I’d need one. I don’t usually equate swimming with mid-October. “Ah, no. Sorry, I didn’t know you had a pool.”

“
It’s an indoor pool,” Maria says as if I’m an idiot. “Stu likes to swim all year round.”

“My dad was a state champion swimmer, back when he was younger,” D
ylan says with pride.

“Oh, how wonderful! That’s qui
te an accomplishment, Stuart.” I turn to Dylan. “You go. I’ll watch.”

Maria uses
this opportunity. “Nonsense. You can borrow a suit from me. I’m sure I even have one with the tags still on it.” Her tone is patronizing. She walks out of the room and returns a few minutes later holding a small amount of hot pink Lycra. She tosses it to me, and points toward the bathroom. Dylan grins with anticipation.

T
repidation fills me as I take the pink wad of fabric and go to the bathroom to change. I put it on and it doesn’t cover half of what it’s supposed to. Apparently, Maria is smaller on top than I am. Most of what I have fits into the bathing suit, but not as well as I would like. I make a mental note not to bend over otherwise everything will spill out. Feeling insecure, I put my tee shirt on over the suit and head back out to the living room.

Dylan is wearing a
Bermuda short-styled bathing suit. His muscular legs are yummy and his well-sculpted upper body makes it difficult for me to focus on anything but him.

Stuart
is in a plain set of swimming trunks. His body is almost as impressive as his son’s.
Not even close.
Maria waits until we’re all assembled, no doubt to make an entrance. She’s wearing a bikini smaller than the one she gave to me. The peach color compliments her perfectly tan body.
She knows how good she looks…and she knows they know it, too.

Maria trots behind Dylan and uses her index finger to trace
his shoulders. It’s too friendly for me. My brain screams,
Get your hands off my man, bitch!

Dylan shrugs from her touch. He
smiles at me. “Ready?”

I nod and follow
him to the pool. The temperature in the glass-enclosed atrium is noticeably warmer than the rest of the house. As dusk drapes over the sky outside, lights hanging from the metal skeletons running along the ceiling, shine onto the pool. Heat rises off the water and condensation drips down the inside of the glass. It’s ethereal.

From the semi-circular steps in the shallow end,
Stuart walks right into the water and leans back, trusting it with his body. Dylan jumps in at the far end, splashing water onto the grey tiled floor.  Maria saunters in and delicately sits on the steps that Stuart had walked down. She sips from a glass of wine.

“Come on in,”
Dylan shouts, pushing his wet, dark curls back.

Maria and Stuart watch
my actions. “In a while,” I say, stalling. I sashay to the side and stand with my back against the wall. Hopefully, it protects me from Maria’s laser beam eyes.

Dylan
swims to the shallow end of the pool. Maria hasn’t taken her eyes off him since we got here. Water rains down his body as he emerges from the water. She ogles him as he walks up the stair next to her. Her arched eyebrows give away what she’s thinking. I know it because I’m thinking it, too.

Determined steps bring him to face me.
My breath hitches and my heart is pounding so hard I think it will burst out of the tiny bikini top Maria has loaned me.

“If you don’t come in, I’m going to throw you in.”

“I’ll be in,” I say, then lower my voice to a whisper. “It’s just the bathing suit Maria let me borrow is too small.”

An eyebrow climbs
his forehead. He snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me close, drenching the front of my shirt. “It is? You’ll have to show me.” I can feel his interest through his swimsuit.

Both Stuart and Maria stare at us; Stuart with a smile
at his son’s happiness and Maria with drool seething from her teeth.

I blush and use my hands to push him away.
“Dylan, stop. They’re watching.”

“I don’t care.” Before I answer
again, Dylan picks me up and carries me to the edge of the pool. He holds me out, over the water.

My grip tightens
around his neck. “Dylan, don’t.”

“What are you going to do if I do?”

“I’ll beat you up,” I giggle.

“What will you give me if I don’t?

“You can name it.” I hope my voice sounds seductive.

He hesitates
. “Both sound promising.” Then he leaps off the edge of the pool and into the water, with me in his arms. He never lets go as his feet bounce off the bottom and we ricochet back to the surface. I swipe my hair back from my face and then push Dylan’s shoulder. He lets go of my legs so I can stand in front of him, and he adjusts his arms so that they’re around my waist.

The water is warm,
like the bath Dylan had drawn for me weeks ago, but I am much hotter. Dylan stares into my eyes. I’m lost in him. He gives me a long, lingering kiss. Within seconds I lose my anger and return his affection, surrendering to his touch. I’m weak from the kiss and forget where we are, until I see Maria in my periphery. A hard line replaces her smile under knit brows. She’s displeased.

“I’m not in the mood to swim
anymore,” she says. “In fact, I’ve got a bit of a headache. I’m going to bed. It was…nice meeting you, Melissa.” Her tone changes with the word ‘nice.’ She stands up and walks back into the main part of the house.

A few moments later, Stuart swi
ms to the edge. He gets out and dries himself with the towel from the lounge chair. “Well, I’m calling it a day, too. You guys stay as long as you want. Dylan, just shut the lights when you’re done.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Dad.”

“Thank you for a lovely diner,” I shout as he leaves. Then we’re alone in the pool.

Water covers our bodies from the neck down
. His hands roam over my wet shirt. “Why don’t you show me how small this suit is.” His tone is mischievous.

I lift
the shirt above my head and fling the wet fabric onto the steps at the shallow end, where Maria had been sitting.

“Oh
…it
is
small.” It’s the way he says it that jump-starts my blood. But it’s when he pulls me close that I can tell how much he likes the way it barely covers my curves. He pushes his tongue into my mouth and kisses me hard. His hands skim my body under the water, searching for the string that barely holds the suit on. He finds the lower string. With a gentle tug, he pulls it, then skims his hand up my back and yanks the top, freeing me. The top of the suit floats away.

My hands make quick work
under the water and I remove the rest. When I’m completely naked in the pool, Dylan discards his suit. The three pieces drift off into different directions.

Despite being surrounded by water,
I’m so thirsty for him. He pulls me close. The sensation of him against me while we’re submerged is exciting. My arms circle his neck and we drift toward the deep end until my back is against the tile wall.

He grinds his hips and I feel him just where I want him.

“You have no idea how you affect me,” he says.

I smile. “I think I have a pretty good idea.” I wiggle slightly and feel him rub me.

He smiles too. “Yeah, I guess you do.” He kisses me. “But it’s more than that. I can’t put it into words.”

He has no idea how much he affects me too.
This time I kiss him, but I don’t let go. The heat inside me increases. I’m ready and I want him. He reads my body. I wrap my legs around his waist as he shifts me onto his waiting erection. Warm chlorine vapors fill my nose as Dylan takes me under the diving board.

The warm water adds
to the sensation as he uses buoyancy to lift me up and down over him. Between the pressure inside of me and the water against me, it doesn’t take long for me to reach my plateau.

“Feel it?” he says.

“Yes,” I’m breathy.

He moves out and then slows back in.
The water moves against our bodies. I groan. And he does it again.

“Please,” I beg.

“You want this,” he says and pulls back again, teasing me.

“Yes, yes. Please.”

“What do you want? Tell me.”

“I want you.”

He thrusts into me and I gasp. My breathing is erratic. My insides quicken and I can’t hold back.

“Come for me,” he says. His words open the floodgates and I
can’t hold back. He drives into me once more before he releases.