Social Neighbor (The Social Series Book 1) (21 page)

“That being said, I added some things to the list, things that you
will
, you
must
do with me.” She was trying to sound authoritative but her eyes belied what she was trying to do here.

“I’ll do whatever you want, baby.” I liked saying that to her because nearly every time I said it, her cheeks turned a little rosy and her full lips parted.

“Facials!” she began.

“Um…” She had to be kidding.

“Manicures and pedicures. Chick flick marathon to include classics such as
An Affair To Remember
,
Sleepless In Seattle
, and
P.S. I Love You
. Tried to cover old and new with that selection.” She nodded as if I’d say “Oh yes! Of course! Excellent idea!” She’d lost her mind.

“What?”

Ignoring my obvious disinclination to do anything on her list, she went on. “A tea party! Makeovers. That’s all I could think of so far.” She handed me the list and smiled brightly in that way that made my heart turn on end.

“I’m not the one trying to write a book, Miss Randall,” I argued.

“This is true, but you said you’d help and you are an integral part of the process. I need your participation, Mr. Stone.” She’d addressed me formally and I had to shut down the smile that was forcing its way across my face.

“Formal now, are we?”

“One good turn deserves another.” She perched her hand on her hip and did that feminine persuasion thing that women loved to use, the one that was usually reserved for speeding tickets and expensive gifts.

“Yeah. Okay fine.” I was a fucking sucker. I was
her
sucker. But I liked it.

“Great! Ravishing Ruby or Beguiling Blue?”

“Fuck me.” I shook my head, chose to ignore the two bottle of finger nail polish she’d snagged from her bag, and got back to my barely warm pasta. This woman was guaranteed to be the death of me. What was worse was I knew I’d let her.

“So what color do you want?”

“I’m really into the all natural look right now.” I waved my hand and batted my eyes like I belonged in that movie
Birdcage
.

“You have to pick,” she insisted.

“Why do I have to do the first thing on your list? Why don’t you do something from the list? You’re the one who skipped your entire childhood. I should sacrifice my manhood because you didn’t do anything fun as a kid? No way. You go first.”

“Fine. How about we do something that we can both agree on.”

“Fine. Name some.”

“Um… Okay, here’s… Oh! How about twenty questions? That’s on the list.”

“Boring.”

“Or we could paint nails?”

“I’ll ask the first question,” I said with enthusiasm. I adjusted myself in my seat and tried to think of something good to ask. God it had been so long since I’d played this game. “First kiss. When, where, who?”

“That’s three questions.”

“Fine. Who?”

“Devin McLeary.” She smiled and shook her head. Lucky bastard kissed my girl. That possessive, territorial part of me wanted to find the little prick and tell him hands off. It was ridiculous of me to think that way.

“Um, we can ask whatever we want?”

“Yes. Fire away.”

“Okay, um, do you read?”

“That’s a terrible question to ask!” I laughed boisterously. “But since you asked, no. Not really. Well, I do, I guess. I read spread sheets and contracts and Facebook.”

“I don’t even know you right now.” She scowled playfully and shook her head in mock condemnation.

“Favorite thing to do?”

“Read.”

“An unlikely pair, aren’t we?”

“Biggest fear?”

“Oh there’s the heavy. Okay. Um…I guess, failure.” I nodded and ran my hand across my pocket where a bronze sobriety coin was hidden inside. I had a habit of fidgeting with it without even realizing that I was doing it. I’d worn smooth spots across both sides of it with the pad of my thumb. Those smooth spots were evidence, vestiges of bad nights and rough mornings when drinking weighed heavily on my mind, so I’d stuff my hands in my pockets, roll the coin around and remind myself of all the reasons why I stayed sober.

The beautiful thing about twenty questions was that expounding on your answer was not a part of the game. I didn’t dare say more beyond that one word. Failure. If I were a wise man like Martin, I would have seized the opportunity to reveal my ugly truth. I’d capitalize on the segue we’d made into the conversation.

I was neither wise nor Martin Petersen, and so my lips were sealed.

“As you said, one good turn deserves another. What’s your greatest fear?”

“I… I don’t ever want to be like my father. Or my mother, for that matter. I want to be happy. Satisfied. Hard to find it, though. Satisfaction.” She left it at that and instantly Harry Potter and The Rolling Stones came to my mind.

I held my finger up, telling her to wait right there and I rolled myself toward the vinyl. I knew exactly where the album was because it was exactly where Tommy had left it.

“The Stones. Nineteen sixty-five. Album was
Out of Our Heads
. This though…greatest hits,” I announced as I plucked the vinyl from its place on Tommy’s shelf. I carefully slid the album from its sheath and laid it carefully on the turntable. The needle squeaked and cracked as it met the album and the electric guitar whined, the kick drum set the tempo and Mick Jagger’s voice filled the apartment. I smiled.

Flor looked terribly confused. It was great. “Harry Potter!” I shouted above the music.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m perfect. I have a full stomach and my lady here with me listening to a sixty-five hit by the Stones.”

“I don’t get it. Are you sure you’re okay? Fever?”

“(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” played as I made it back to where she sat on the couch. “Harry Potter. Professor Snape. Riddikulus!” I pointed my finger with a flourish as though it were a wand.

The most devastating, earth-shattering smile lit her stunning face and my fate was sealed right then and there. Goddamn the woman! I knew right then that I wanted to see that smile every day. All the time. What’s more, I wanted to be the one to make her light up like that. Every day. She’d slapped a life sentence on me right then, and I couldn’t wait to start serving my time.

“Now,” I said, wheeling up in front of her. I brought the foot of my good leg up against the edge of the coffee table and slid it out of the way. “…when you think about not getting any satisfaction, you won’t be sad. You’ll think of The Rolling Stones and me trying to dance and practice magic in a wheelchair.”

“Riddikulus!” She whirled her index finger in the air above her head and grinned.

I extended my hand to her and she placed her small, warm hand in mine. I tugged her to me and swept her into my lap. “No need to worry about satisfaction now, baby,” I breathed in her ear.

“I thought you said you don’t read,” she whispered softly, still smiling.

“I don’t. Tommy did. I watched the movies.”

“You’re killing me.”

“Trust me, not nearly as much as you kill me.” I clutched my heart dramatically, winning a laugh from her. It was music to my ears. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of it. “Wanna dance?”

“I do.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and I rolled in and around, back and forth, with classic Stones playing on Tommy’s record player. Emotions bubbled up in me. I wanted to thank Tommy. I wanted to tell him that this perfect, beautiful woman with the most amazing smile was dancing with me in his apartment to his music, and it was a gift that I’d cherish forever. Mick crooned about wild horses and how they could never drag him away from his lady.

Me either, Mick. Me either.

Even once my leg was healed. Even after we marked off everything on her list. After I marked off everything on
my
list. I knew I may not end up with a permanent place in her life, but I also knew she’d have a permanent place in mine. Always.

“Is twenty questions over now?”

“It is for now.” I tugged her even closer and brushed my thumb over her bottom lip, determined to soak it up. She seemed hesitant, scared, but she leaned forward and pressed those amazing lips against mine. Like a starving man who’d just taken his first bite, I moaned, relieved by what she’d dished out for me.

She moaned quietly as her lips melded and mingled with mine. I parted my lips, prompting her to do the same and she did. I swept my tongue against hers and relished the taste of her on my tongue. The scent of her perfume so close to me. I absently hoped that her soft subtle perfume would transfer to my clothes and linger once she went home tonight. Or maybe she would just stay…

Seeming as though she’d heard my thoughts, she broke away from me, panting and flushed. “Graham, we should—shouldn’t.” She closed her eyes and tried to collect her thoughts, I presumed.

“We should. You know we should.”

“I want to,” she confessed quietly, making my heart skip a beat. “I just need to think, and being here like this, I can’t.”

“Whatever you need, baby.” I kissed her once more. Soft and sweet and brief. She was so responsive, so pliable under my touch. My sweet addiction had no idea just how much power she held over me. Her five-foot three inch, buck twenty-five self brought this goliath to his knees, and I was fine staying there if that’s what she wanted.

Flor

#Yolo

“B
oy, if you could see the look on your face!” Matt said then whistled.

“Zip it!” I took a deep breath hoping my heart would slow down soon. Graham had turned me into a flustered, hot, wet mess and reckless behavior didn’t seem too far behind.

“Spill,” Matt ordered, sitting in his underwear on our couch with a bowl of popcorn in front of him.

“He’s hot.”

“Mhmm.” He nodded, popping a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Do you have to be in your underwear right now? It’s distracting.” I looked away from him, shaking my head.

“Oh, he seduced you,” Matt cooed mockingly.

“Yes and no. I don’t think he meant to,” I said, planting my hands on my hips. I paced back and forth in front of our television and tried to organize my thoughts, which was proving to be quite difficult.

“So?”

“So, I don’t want to start something that could end badly.”

“Not tracking, babe.” Matt cocked his head and scrunched his brows.

“Pros,” I said, holding one finger up to tick off what I was thinking. “He’s insanely hot. He’s successful. He’s funny. He’s clever. He smells
so
good.” I sighed. “Cons. He’s our neighbor. I just agreed to work for him for a while. And my biggest issue—He is hiding something. I can feel it.”

“Sure you aren’t being paranoid because of the wife slash sister debacle?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” I scratched my head and tried to consider that maybe I was being paranoid.

“I say go wild. Cut loose. Be reckless. Act twenty-six for a change! Who cares that he’s our part time neighbor? Who cares you’re working for him for now? You’ll be an uber successful author soon,” Matt said, winking at me and flashing his best smile. “I’m not saying you need to go change your relationship status and make it all Facebook official or anything but, you know, hashtag yolo, babe.”

“You sound like a jackass.” I smiled despite myself and secretly thanked the universe for sending me this extremely handsome, savvy, gay, knight in shining armor.

“Whatev.”

“Yeah. Whatev. Hashtag yolo, right?” I flopped down on the couch beside him and propped my feet up on the glass top coffee table.

“Who sounds like a jackass now?” I jabbed Matt in his ribs for that remark and snagged his bowl of popcorn.

My libido wanted me to run next door, let myself into his apartment, and continue what we’d started tonight. My brain opted to sit tight and make sure I had freshly shaved legs and underarms before I went back to Goliath’s apartment tomorrow. I had to work and I grimaced at the thought of having to drag myself back into the office, but the weekend was nearly here and I planned on spending as much of it with Graham as he would allow, and something told me he’d allow me to spend every second with him.

That purely female sex-kitten part of my brain jumped up and down victoriously. The little girl in me twirled and plucked petals one by one from a delicate white daisy. The pessimist in me shook her head repugnantly at my recklessness.

Fuck her
.

I knew what the pessimistic part of me was thinking. I barely knew him. I was now his “employee.” He was my sometimes-neighbor, and I had a nagging feeling that he still wasn’t being forthcoming with me.

But Matt was right! I was only twenty-six. I was an independent, single, adult, American woman! The world was at my fingertips. Yolo and all that other jackass lingo.