“That’s all right. There isn’t a lot of good to say about me. And don’t worry. Your secrets are safe.”
Kelsey’s snort is accompanied by a huff from Leigh.
I lean down and look directly into the big, blue eye staring through the fence. “I’d never tell anyone that you need to be licked—and laid. Or that you were with some douche named Matt who probably couldn’t tell the difference between his dick and his hemorrhoids.”
I straighten.
Leigh’s mouth drops open, but only for a second before a grin takes over. She looks down at Kelsey. “I think I like him.”
I turn to the knothole, but Kelsey’s not there.
Leigh knocks on my side of the fence. “So. You up for the task at hand?”
I pull my shades down and meet her gaze. “Task?”
She holds up one hand, hiding her finger as she points at Kelsey, and in the loudest whisper ever, she says, “Lick and lay? Will you be her get-laid-guy?”
My dick hardens in an instant as my smile widens.
A gasp is followed by a smack.
Leigh jumps and frowns over her side of the fence. “What?”
I play it cool and shrug. “Seems like the neighborly thing to do.”
“Leigh Spears. You are a terrible friend,” I whisper from beside the trashcan Leigh’s perched atop.
She winks at me and turns to Adam. “Don’t listen to her. I’m a wonderful friend. Someday, she’ll appreciate the madness of my methods.”
I grab the waistband of her jean shorts and drag her off the garbage bin. She lands on her butt, sprawled on the grass.
Good. Serves her right.
I glare at her. “What is wrong with you?”
She jumps up and brushes off. “I’m looking out for my friend, who is in desperate need of some cock and tongue. That’s all.”
My fists tighten at my sides. I open my mouth, but the words I should be able to spit at her are jumbled in an embarrassed wad of letters at the bottom of my boiling brain.
All I manage is a growl. I stomp my foot and grit my teeth.
When the words still won’t come, I turn and storm into my house, leaving my friend staring at my backside.
She catches up with me in the living room.
Her brows are drawn, and her big, brown eyes plead with me. “Aw, honey. Please forgive me. I’m sorry. I went too far, didn’t I?”
The heat from my brain spreads through the rest of me. “How—how could you do that? I have to live next door to that man.”
Her expression changes from contrite to excite in one-point-oh-four seconds. “Did you see his pecs? And those tats? I bet all you have to do is ask. Fucking ask, woman. I sure as hell would.”
I drop my face into my palms and my ass onto my small sofa. “Yes. How could I not see? I’ll never be able to un-see what I saw through that knothole.”
Adam is built like those statues you see at the art museum, and tribal tattoos cover him from shoulders to wrists. Spiky, twisty designs in dark, bold strokes, tempered by shades of blue, like clouds floating behind them.
Leigh falls onto the cushion beside me. “Told you he was probably totally hot. He’s more than hot, girly…he’s fucking—I don’t even know—nuclear and shit.”
I shake my head. “And shit. He eavesdrops on my conversations. And his face is covered with hair. And—”
“And. So. The. Fuck. What? You aren’t making love to his face. That body. My friend, you’d better get some of that before it disappears, because that man is not going to be single for long. I mean, if he’s single now.”
I peek through my fingers at her lascivious expression. “He’d better be single, making offers like that.”
She lifts one shoulder and drops it. “Eh. Some guys…”
“Well, I was married to a cheater. I’m not going to start seeing one. If he’d cheat on his girlfriend, he’d cheat on me.”
“Who says you have to start seeing him? Why not just fuck him? Save yourself the emotional baggage and concentrate on having some fun. It’ll free you and give you something to write about.”
I flop backward and sink into the sofa, letting out a huge breath. “You think?”
The possibility dangles in front of me like a donut on a stick, tempting and sweet, to be snatched and enjoyed.
I grin. “I guess—I could.”
She turns, pulling her leg up, her pointy knee poking into my hip bone. “You should. If nothing else, call him on his bluff. If he’s too chicken-shit to stand behind his words, then screw him. But—and this is the best part—you might get to play on your very own Jungle Jim and actually fuck him.”
“He said his name is Adam.”