Page 1 of Faking it With the Player Next Door

Chapter One

Taylor

“ G oodness gracious, is that really Van?” I held a hand to my chest, gasping.

Watching my neighbor, Donovan Willis, known to millions around the world as Van Willis, work out in his backyard under the afternoon hazy sunshine caused my stomach to flutter, a slight line of sweat to develop on my forehead, and my heart to skip a beat or two.

He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose athletic shorts that sat low on his narrow hips. The shorts, similar to what basketball players wore, hung down to the middle of his thighs, their fabric moving with his every movement. The upper half of his body was bare except for a few tattoos on his chest and right forearm. When my eyes traveled down to his abdomen, to say I was impressed by the six-pack abs I saw was an understatement.

I’d never seen a man’s body so fit. Not an ounce of fat seemed obvious to me, and I was smitten.

I couldn’t recall ever being so entranced by a man’s physique, and the Van I saw standing about a hundred feet from where I stood on my grandma’s back deck was not the same as I last saw about half a decade ago.

My tongue shot out, licking my bottom lip.

Oh, no, he has changed so much from the teenage boy I once knew.

I haven’t returned home since the day I left shortly after my high school graduation. I had big dreams of becoming a successful physical therapist and sports medicine specialist. Five years later, four of which were in college, earning multiple certificates, I held a Master’s degree as a Physiotherapist and had a decent job outside Washington D.C.

I worked mainly with veterans, military personnel, and law enforcement, helping them after an injury or relapse to get them back on their feet and recover. It was rewarding work, and I was happy with the results for almost every patient I was lucky to work with.

The only downside to working at Fredrickson’s Therapy was the current CEO and my now ex-fiancé, Travis Fredrickson.

Four months ago, Travis and I were set to get married in four days. But that all changed when I caught him in a compromising position in his office one night after hours.

It wasn’t the normal type of catching him in the act that one would think of. If only he had cheated on me.

My steps practically bounced down the hallway to his office, my fingers still tingling from the delicate lace of my wedding dress. I couldn’t wait to tell him how the fitting had gone. As I pushed open his door, the words were already forming on my lips.

But they died there.

My hand stayed frozen on the doorknob, my body half-in, half-out of the threshold as I tried to make sense of the scene before me.

Travis had his back towards the door, he was hunched over his desk. Standing next to him, but facing the door and me, was a tall, hulk of a man. Tattoos decorated both of the man’s forearms, and his head was void of hair. He almost reminded me of that cleaning guy I’d see singing and promoting lemon cleaner in commercials from my childhood.

The man reached over, nudged Travis’ shoulder and nodded in my direction. When Travis turned to see what the man was motioning to, my mouth gaped open and I gasped. Below Travis’ nose was a white powder, and before I knew it, his hand raised up and he wiped away the excess with his fingers.

Not waiting for an explanation, or to see what happened next, I spun and ran down the hallway of the office towards the exit. The image of Travis partaking in illegal activity was more than I could deal with, and I’d never forget the look on his face.

The next day, I called off the wedding.

Shuddering, and lost in my thoughts, I didn’t realize I’d caught Van’s attention, and when I came out of my daze, my eyes connected with him. His chestnut brown eyes were surprised to see me standing on the back deck wearing an oversized tee shirt that barely covered my upper thighs and my uncombed blonde tendrils fluttering in the morning breeze.

Realizing how scantily I was dressed, my cheeks grew warm, and I immediately tried to pull the cotton fabric lower on my legs. Grinning, in an awkward way, I back stepped until I bumped into the door leading to Gram’s kitchen, and fumbled with the knob to open the door.

His eyes never left me, and I didn’t have the willpower to glance away. It was as if I had no control over my body functions. Or he had some superpower to keep me in his vision and refused to let me leave his presence.

Opening the back door, I slipped inside Gram’s house and closed both doors in my wake. I didn’t want Van to see me as I laid my forehead against the door jam and closed my eyes.

Less than ten hours after returning to Coleman, and my cover was already blown. The town—a speck on the map of West Virginia where even the dust seemed a hundred years old—was supposed to be my hiding place. Not even my older brother, and Van’s best friend since childhood, Hunter, knew I’d hightailed it home months after my broken engagement because I couldn’t deal with my ex-fiancé, Travis, being in my face every day.

I’d slip into town, traveling down a deserted main street in the middle of the night, and quietly stow my SUV in the little attached garage to Gram’s old farmhouse, and my childhood home. I didn’t even bother unloading my bags, boxes, and what little I’d packed to make my getaway from Travis and the city.

I wanted a few days of privacy, quiet and whereabouts being unknown, but here I am, just before noon, exposed to the last person I wanted to run into. Well, maybe the third previous person. Travis obviously being first, and Hunter being a close second.

I’d submitted a letter to the Human Resources department of Fredrickson’s Therapy, both as a physical copy on their desk and via email. In this letter, I informed them I would be taking a leave of absence for at least 30 days. I specifically requested privacy and asked not to be contacted during this time.

I was certain that by now, Travis had been informed about my absence. I could easily imagine that he was furious about this development. However, I no longer cared about his reaction. His feelings were no longer my responsibility or concern.

Pushing off the door, I opened my eyes and strolled to the counter to make coffee. Nothing in Gram’s house had changed since my last visit almost five years ago. From the cream-colored Formica countertops, with a few knife marks from when I used a steak knife to cut a tomato as a teenager to the crack in the window over the sink.

Hunter has been keeping the house up since Gram’s passing six years ago, and he promised me he’d not change a thing; he kept his word.

When I left the city, I had only one destination in mind. Home.

It was the best place to recover from my broken engagement, and have some time alone. No one from my workplace would be here, or have easy access to me. Only a few from Coleman, unless Hunter blabbed his mouth too much, would know of my marital situation, and that was good.

Normally a fairly reserved person, I didn’t care for people knowing my business; especially something like having a wedding called off. It would be so much easier explaining to everyone that Travis had a side fling, some sort of mistress.

But having to tell people that he was a drug addict, and I’d been clueless was embarrassing. It was better to not even broach the topic.

Grabbing the old percolator coffee pot, the same one Gram used my entire childhood, I filled it up with water and got it setup on the gas stovetop. It’s been years since I’ve had coffee brewed this way, and I smiled with anticipation waiting for the water to boil and brew the coffee grounds.

My eyes traveled to the kitchen window, and I resisted the urge to walk over there and see if Van was lingering outside.

“No, don’t do it,” I scolded myself and returned my attention to Gram’s kitchen.

If I inhaled deep enough, I could still smell her lavender perfume wafting through the room. The kitchen was Gram’s favorite place to be when she was inside the house. When she was outside, her gardens were her favorite.

Thinking about her flower and herb gardens instantly gave me a reason to step up to the window, and peek out. Fortunately for me, Gram’s old gardens were along the fence line bordering the Willis property, so this would afford me a casual glance in Van’s direction.

Instead of surveying the old garden beds, my eyes went to the Willis backyard, which was void of any person.

“Oh, come on,” I scowled, just as the percolator began bubbling and spitting brewed coffee.

Moseying back to the stove, I stared at the little clear bulb on top of the percolator, mesmerized by the amber-colored liquid popping up and down every few seconds. Soon, I could drown myself in a hot cup of coffee without creamer and sugar.

When I arrived in town after midnight, I hadn’t thought about groceries, but I had at least brought a small box of necessities when I left the city. Coffee was in the box, but the sugar, and the powdered coffee creamer hadn’t made it into the box.

I was too exhausted last night to stop at a local 24-hour gas station and grab a few handfuls of sugar packets and those little non-dairy creamer cups, which now made me regret my laziness.

Opening the cupboard to my right, I took out a coffee mug that had been turned upside down, and still rinsed it out. After pouring a cup of coffee, I strode to the front door and opened it.

The sun filtered into the foyer, and I wondered what I’d do today. My first official day in Coleman after a five-year absence.

“Grocery shopping,” I nodded, sipping some coffee.

Grimacing at the bitterness of the hot brew, I was going to buy a ten-pound bag of sugar, and use half of it in tomorrow’s cup. As the caffeine settled into my body, and washed away all the stress from driving at night, I began to feel awake and ready to conquer the day.

Listening to the birds chirping, and somewhere in the distance a tractor sounded as if it were rambling through a corn or hay field, I felt relaxed. For the first time in a long time, my body wasn’t tense, and I sighed.

Coming home was just what I needed. I could sit out on the front porch or the back deck, enjoying the sounds of nature around me, sipping coffee in the morning and maybe a glass of wine in the evenings, and just forget about the stress of the day, and what had become of my life.

“But now what are you gonna do about Van?” I mumbled to myself, sipping more coffee as I sat on Gram’s old rocking chair. “You know he’s gonna run to Hunter.”

Laying my head back on the chair, I rocked and wondered if I should’ve told my older brother I was coming home. He had offered for me to come stay at Gram’s place when I first broke off my engagement, but I told him I was okay, and could handle the lousy hand life had dealt me.

But the more I considered the offer, the better it sounded.

And here I am.

I sighed.

A motorcycle rumble coming from the other side of the stockade fence caused me to glance towards the Willis house. Seconds later, the roar of the engine came into view, and I saw Van riding a spectacular, chrome-decked-out high dollar motorcycle.

Entranced with him riding the bike, I saw he was wearing a short-sleeved black tee shirt, showing off his tattoo on his forearm, and his biceps bulged beneath the shirt fabric. His long legs, encased in a pair of black denim demanded attention, and I felt my stomach flutter at the sight of him.

How did this man, after all these years, still make my heart skip a beat, and make me feel like a high school girl swooning over her true love?

As he steered his bike past Gram’s house, I felt my mouth grow dry and swallowed hard.

This wasn’t fair. How could a person charge another person’s desire so quickly, and after so long?

I had a feeling coming home to Coleman may have been a huge mistake.