“I know how sensitive you guys can be, but you’re a little on the skinny side, Cyrus,” Ida Sue says like she’s breaking something to me that’s going to physically or mentally pain me. I sigh.
“Ida Sue, I’m in peak condition,” I mutter, ignoring my injury, because it is healing.
“You need someone to look out for you until your unfortunate injury is healed. These things can be hard for a man,” she says, as if she’s horribly sad for me.
I resist the urge to grab my dick to make sure it wasn’t cut off and something is wrong with me. She’s making me sound pitiful.
“I’m fine, Ida Sue.”
“Oh, I know. But I also know how these things can get in a man’s head and cause… shall we say, delicate issues.”
“I can assure you. I have zero issues,” I all but growl.
“That’s good,” she says, but damn if I can’t hear the doubt in her voice.
What has she heard? What has Green and Parker been saying?
Carajo! I know it’s been a while since I’ve been with a woman, but it’s not like my dick hasn’t been able. I just don’t have a woman in my life and don’t have the time to worry about finding one. Although I have to admit that little morsel that lives next door did make my dick sit up and beg for attention. I’m still semi-hard just thinking about the way she was shaking her ass. She could be fun to toy with. But she’s obviously a Christmas fanatic and her dog is a pain in the ass. I don’t need that kind of baggage in my life. I have time for a quick fuck but doing that with a woman that might be my neighbor for the foreseeable future is bad mojo. I don’t need the issues that could cause.
“Did you hear me, Cyrus?” Ida Sue asks, and I remember I’m on the phone. I got lost thinking about my pretty—and curvy—neighbor.
“Sorry, what did you say Ida Sue?”
“I said, make sure you go by the bed and breakfast and give her the package tomorrow.”
“I’ll do it, Mi reina,” I respond with a smirk.
“My queen… I like that. I will need to work on getting my Jan to call me that…”
“Later, Ida Sue,” I laugh, hanging up and wondering if I should feel sorry for Ida Sue’s man. Hell, as much energy as that woman has, I should probably envy the bastard.
I spend the next few hours checking out the townhome. It’s not bad. I actually like the setup. There’s a large living room, with a small kitchen. They’re open to each other, although separated by a breakfast bar. There’s a hall to the right that leads to a large, spacious master with a huge en suite. There’s a laundry room and another small room that’s an office across from the master. Upstairs are two bedrooms that share a bath. It’s actually surprising how big it is for a townhome. The only issue I have is the décor. I wonder if I could load the owner’s shit up in one of those portable pod buildings and get my own stuff. The owner leased the place to me for six months. She’s apparently in Florida. That’s the only details I have since my agent arranged the whole thing. I told her I didn’t want to buy property here and she said I couldn’t afford it anyway. This was her compromise when I told her I wasn’t living in a damn bed and breakfast where Ida Sue’s family ran it. I really didn’t want to live there when I found out it was called Kringle’s Bed and Breakfast.
Seriously, what is it with all of these damn Christmas puns?
After a quick shower, I flip on the television and sift through the channels. I must have dozed off, but when I wake up, I’m worried I’m being raided by the damn police. I jerk up, my gaze going to the window where multi-colored lights are flashing and circling. It’s so bright that it makes my damn head hurt. I go to the door to see what in the hell is going on. When I jerk it open there’s my sexy new neighbor holding out a large red container with pictures of snowmen all over it. She’s reaching out as if she’s going to ring the doorbell, but that’s not what catches my attention. What does that is the outfit she’s wearing. It’s a sexy red dress, that’s short on her thighs and trimmed in white fur. She has a Santa hat on and candy cane striped leggings that are glued to her body like a second skin—so close that I wish her tiny dress was even tinier so I could see her ass.
“Oh!” she gasps, her glossy red lips full and inviting form a sexy “o” as the sound escapes. “You scared me,” she laughs. Hell, she’d really be scared if she knew I was wondering if her lipstick would stain my cock and make it shine like her lips do. “Merry Christmas, I wanted to give you a welcome to the neighborhood surprise,” she said handing the container over to me.
“I know how you could really give me a welcome to the neighborhood,” I respond, leaning against the doorframe and hoping like hell she takes me up on my offer.
Carol
“I… I made you this,” I tell him, flustered because the sexual innuendo he just sent out is hard to ignore. I don’t know how to respond to it. I have this powerful pull toward him. I don’t know how to handle it. I’ve never experienced anything like it in my life.
I need to get it under control. He’s apparently renting out Chelle’s home and I can’t have a fling with my neighbor, that would be too complicated… wouldn’t it?
Besides, I’m not the fling type. I never want to be like my mother and that’s all she did. She didn’t devote time to anything—especially her own flesh and blood. That’s probably the main reason I don’t bother with casual relationships. At twenty-seven and despite the way this guy makes my hormones react, I don’t see that changing.
“What is it?” he asks, taking my pretty box.
I’m proud of that box. Actually, I’m proud of my entire catering business. It keeps growing. We’ve been running it out of my sister’s bed and breakfast, but I’ve found a place in town and I’d like to open up a shop. I haven’t approached the subject with Krissy yet, but her bed and breakfast is getting busier and busier. I think this will make it easier. She handles the dessert side of the business for the most part and she can continue doing that from her home. I do the booking and planning, as well as the main courses. I’m a little helpless on the more complicated desserts, but there is one thing I make that seems to be a huge hit. Right now, however, with that look on his face, I’m kind of regretting my decision.
“It’s a uh… homemade pie.”
“Come on in,” he invites, stepping back.
“Well, I don’t want to bother you,” I murmur, wringing my hands together, feeling foolish.
“Don’t be silly. Come in and you can share a piece with me. I don’t have anything but water or whiskey though. I just picked up the essentials at the store on the way here,” he explains.
“Whiskey and water are your essentials?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Well, that and my protein shakes and some fruit, yeah.”
“Oh…”
I remind myself he’s a bachelor and that’s probably normal shopping for a man and then I walk slowly into Chelle’s, carefully closing the door behind me.