Sommer Marsden - Boys Next Door

I let the screen door bang shut and eyed the swing as a bigger gust of wind propelled it. ‘Nice.’

I’d always wanted a porch swing. And it was nice. It had some cushions on it and I could imagine sitting on that swing as the fall set in and put its feet up to stay for a while. A mug of tea or a glass of wine: watching the mountains in the distance turn vibrant with autumn’s fiery colours.

‘But not until you have a key, dumb ass,’ I chided myself.

I tossed the small travel tote full of magazines and snacks on the swing to wait. Then I turned face-first into a wall of a man.

‘Who are you talking to?’

I let out a squawk – an embarrassing aviary impersonation that set my cheeks blazing. My hands came up instinctively to steady myself. ‘I … who … I …’

I shook my head and he helped me find my equilibrium with one gentlemanly hand on my elbow.

‘Coop, is the “who”. I’m your neighbour. Now –’ he cocked his head, green eyes bright despite the overcast day ‘– the only question left is the “I” part. Who are you ?’

‘I’m Farrell – McGee … I’m Farrell McGee,’ I said, pushing my shoulders back as if it had taken me a moment to recall my identity. ‘This is my house. Only …’ I spared the quaint red door a wistful glance.

‘No key?’

‘No key,’ I echoed.

Coop, who I assumed lived in one of the three little pigs stone houses, pointed to the small square of paper in my hand. ‘Well, that’s the place to go if you need your key. I can drive you if you need –’

I waved a hand at him and took a step back. Oh no, this was not how I wanted to start my time at Tower Terrace. Flirting with a neighbour and starting something I’d probably regret. It was only the offer of a ride, but the look in his eyes said more.

I suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with another gust of wind. ‘If you’d just point me in the right direction. I need to find my way around eventually, right?’

He nodded, a lock of wheat-coloured hair falling over his broad forehead.

Very boyish. Very handsome. Very off limits.

‘Go back to the main road. Take your second left and the third right. Broad Street. It’s hard to miss. It’s the only building on Broad Street painted red. They should be able to help you.’

I nodded once and backed up another step. ‘Thanks … Coop.’ I couldn’t help myself. ‘Coop, that’s an unusual name. Don’t hear that often.’

He grinned at me and sticking with the fairy-tale theme, I had a flash and sizzle of the big bad wolf leering at me. My stomach twisted in on itself and heat flared between my legs. Awesome, a hormone reaction already . I bit my lip and tried to focus on his answer instead of how nice his mouth was.

‘Jim Cooper … hence, “Coop”,’ he said, putting out a hand. I stared at it dumbly before my brain kicked in and I shook the proffered hand.

‘Oh,’ I said.

‘Fascinating stuff, yeah?’ He hadn’t let go of my hand.

‘ I think so,’ I said before I could think better of it. I pulled my hand from his and cleared my throat. ‘Well, I’d better go,’ I said and waited for him to move away.

It took Coop a moment, what with all the staring at me, but finally he shot me one more grin and then started down my wooden steps. My . Wooden. Steps. It made me feel a flash of pride and excitement.

‘Good luck getting your key. I’m the middle house across the road should you need anything. At all,’ he said.

The tone, the words, the accent on the anything . Oh God, he was one of those men. Men who had tons of self-assurance and sexual prowess and total faith in their bedroom abilities. Those men were dangerous.

‘They also happen to be man-sirens to the likes of you,’ I said to myself in the safety of my car. It came out on a shaky sigh and I noticed a light tremble in my hand as I turned the key and the engine caught.

I looked up as I started to back out of my driveway. Coop was just standing there. Waiting. Watching me. That half-smile on his face. I bet he had that half-smile after he fucked a girl, too.

‘Stop,’ I said to myself. But I doubted I would.

* * *

It was a red building. Very, very red. Like blood. I was pretty sure my blood pressure was rising as I entered. It was the tallest building on the street but having a thing about elevators I tried to find the steps. When I opened the door I was met with caution tape and orange cones.

Great. It’s like an obstacle course. What will I have to power through to get my fucking keys ?

‘Elevator it is,’ I whispered. ‘It’ll be fine.’

I pushed the button and nervously tapped my foot while I waited. The lobby was pretty much deserted barring the smiling, bleached-blonde woman who’d greeted me and informed me that Pann Realty was on the fourth floor. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about getting on the elevator with a crush of other folks.

The doors popped open and I stepped in. Just me, myself and I. I took a deep breath. It would be fine. The doors were almost shut when a man nearly dove through. All six-foot-four (at least) of lanky man. Dark hair that curled wildly around his forehead, dark-brown eyes that were the epitome of that clichéd description: piercing . He smiled at me and I saw a flash of white teeth in a dark goatee.

He’s very Satan-ish …

The wild thought bloomed in my head just as he pushed the button for the third floor. ‘Sorry to startle you. I’m running late … as usual.’

The doors took their sweet time closing and when the elevator started going up it was a sluggish ascent at best. My nerves jangled.

‘I … it’s fine,’ I said. I could handle one more person in the carriage, right? Even if it was slow as shit. I mean it was just me and him. So why did the elevator feel so small? And cramped. And warm.

He stuck his hand out and for the second time in thirty minutes, I grabbed a big warm man-hand. ‘Deke. Deke Wells. And you … you, I’d remember.’ His gaze swept over me and I felt a flex deep inside as if he were touching me. ‘So you must be new.’

‘Farrell McGee,’ I almost whispered. Where had my voice gone? ‘I just moved in … well, I’m trying to move in if I can get a key to my door.’

He chuckled and it wormed through me, a sudden buzz of lust and attraction. ‘Well, welcome,’ he said.

I almost asked him why he’d chuckled but then the elevators shivered, banged raucously and froze. Then the lights went out.

‘Shit,’ Deke said.

‘What? What shit?’ I gasped. Already putting a hand out to find the wall and steady myself.

‘It does this sometimes. It’s an old elevator. And the custodian is, well, he’s pretty slow.’

‘What are you saying?’ I asked, my fingers brushing something to my left.

‘We could be here for a while.’ When Deke grabbed my hand, I realised that what my fingers had brushed over wasn’t the wall. It was him. Big, lanky, strong and now that I was closer, smelling of wood smoke and pine and cinnamon … him.

Damn.

‘It’ll be okay,’ he said, pulling me back just enough that I brushed against him which helped me get my bearings.

He was warm against me, but I shivered.

‘Your hands are freezing. Are you claustrophobic?’

‘Not so much that,’ I whispered as if louder noise would make us plummet to our deaths. ‘I just don’t like elevators. How long? How long will we be here?’

‘Do you want the truth or do you want a lie?’

I sighed. ‘The truth, though the smart money is probably on the lie.’

‘Probably half an hour to an hour. George has a good heart but slow hands.’