Page 3

CAM

W ell, fuck.

I'd only seen a glimpse of the girl when she moved in, and while I could immediately tell she was built just to my liking, soft and curvy, I convinced myself that my new neighbor wouldn't be a problem.

I was so confident in my ability to distance myself that I sauntered over with the intention of helping her get the rest of her things out of the moving truck. The mystery of her was going to bother me a hell of a lot more than the reality, I was sure of it.

And then I saw her start to fall, her arms full of an oversized cardboard box, her blond ponytail swinging. It was second nature to catch her in my arms, but the second I touched her and looked down into those deep blue eyes, it was over for me.

The touch was electric, the connection instant. Now I'm drawn to her so intensely that she's all I can think about, and I've tortured myself by sitting next to her in that silky, thin-as-hell robe. I don't even remember if the pizza was any good or not. All I remember is her .

It's the craziest thing I’ve ever felt, a jolt of lightning through my very soul.

She's so pretty, soft, and innocent. Helping her was second nature, but taking my shirt off while I repaired her tub was just to gauge if she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

And the way her eyes traveled down, her face flushing, her tongue darting out to lick her lips … yeah, Kelly is attracted to me.

Now, what the hell am I going to do about it?

I'm forty, and she's in her early twenties for sure.

I have no business messing with her, but she makes something possessive come to life in me that I've never dealt with before.

Life hasn't been easy, and the military put me in enough life-or-death situations that I consider myself unshakeable, but I'll be damned at how easily Kelly has shaken me.

It's a Saturday, and the day is hot. There are no cars in Kelly's driveway when I go out to the front porch, and I take the opportunity to cut her grass. My yard needs doing, too, but there's nothing wrong with a little neighborly goodwill.

The sun beats down, and sweat beads on my forehead, rolling down my skin as I drag the old push mower across the lawn. By the time I'm done, the smell of freshly cut grass is heavy in the air, and my shirt is soaked with sweat.

There's no sign of Kelly, and that disappoints me.

I finish up with the yard and clean the mower before putting it back in the shed. A cold shower and a beer are calling my name, but both mine and Kelly's yard could use some edging, and I need some new string for my weed eater.

I don't know why I thought retiring from the military and working part-time would be relaxing. Hell, sometimes I feel like I'm busier than ever .

There's a hardware store in town that's close, and after a quick shower, I grab my keys and wallet and head out. It's a small town, and I know nearly everyone, so when I see a confused man dressed way too fancy for a place like this in one of the aisles, I pause. "You need some help, buddy?"

The man turns and looks weirdly guilty, jumping as he does so.

"Oh, um! Well, maybe." The man is maybe in his mid-thirties, but he has an oily sort of look about him that I don't trust. But I've already offered my help, and Southern hospitality is part of my DNA.

"I'm not used to shopping for tools and stuff," he admits.

"I'm looking for a new length of rope for my … boat … is all."

"Well, the ropes are this way, but what type are you looking for?" I lead him back to the aisle and look the selection over. It's not huge, but it's enough, and he seems lost.

"A rope for my boat, like I said."

I'm not getting a good feeling from this guy. He seems shifty, like he's hiding something, and I've dealt with plenty of men just like him over the years. They're usually the type who think they're above the law. "Do you need a rope for the anchor? Or the winch?"

"Uh, the winch?"

"What type of boat do you have?"

"A fishing boat."

"Where do you fish?"

"In the lake."

"Do you keep your boat at the marina, or on the shore, or..."

"Oh, the marina."

I give him a hard look, but I think if I push him more, he's going to run. He hasn't said anything too weird yet, but my instincts aren't usually wrong. "Okay, man. Sure." I hold out my hand. "Cam. And you are?"

"Um, Frank," the man says, shaking my hand, his palm sweaty.

I grab a coiled length of cord and toss it towards him, which he catches awkwardly. "This should do. Say, why haven't I seen you around here before?"

"I'm in town to see a friend." Frank wipes his wet hands on his slacks, looking less stressed now that we're in neutral conversation territory again. "She just moved here, and I want it to be a surprise."

"That's sweet," I say. "What's your friend's name?"

"K—" He stops himself and coughs into his hand. "Kate. It's Kate."

It's a lie, actually, but he doesn't know I know, and I want to keep it that way.

Something about this man is setting off warning bells in my head, and all of them are about my new, gorgeous neighbor.

I could pound this guy into the ground right here and now, but I have no proof, so I just clap him on the shoulder and squeeze a little harder than necessary.

"Good luck then, Frank. I'll be seeing you around, I'm sure. "

He nods, looking pale.

I'm a good judge of character, and Frank is shady as hell. I shrug it off, knowing there's nothing I can do about it right now, but take a second to memorize the cars in the parking lot after I buy my string, just in case.

When I get home, Kelly is outside, and I wave at her. She smiles but doesn't approach, and I try not to let that bother me. Maybe she's not sure how to act around her new neighbor, either.

Or maybe I'm completely barking up the wrong tree.

Either way, I need a distraction .

I fire up my weed eater, and the high-pitched hum fills the air. My yard isn't big, and it's easy enough work, but the whole time I'm focused on what the fuck is going on with Frank and what his deal is.

I have a bad feeling, and I can't shake it.

"Hey."

Her voice makes me jump, and the weed eater goes flying. I catch it before it hits the ground, but it's close, and I turn to face Kelly, trying to look casual and calm, but my heart is racing.

She's dressed in a tiny pair of jean shorts and a tank top, and her hair is pulled up in a high ponytail. She looks amazing, and she's smiling at me. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"No worries," I say. "How's your day going?"

"It's been okay, but I wanted to ask, did you mow my lawn?"

"Yeah, thought it would be a nice welcome gift," I admit. "Plus, it's the neighborly thing to do."

"That's so kind," she says, and her blue eyes shine. "Thank you. You didn't have to."

"It's nothing," I say. "I cut my own, so it's not a big deal."

"Well, thank you," she says. "Can I buy you dinner or something? It's the least I can do."

I'd love nothing more than a night alone with her, but repayment for the lawn has nothing to do with it. "Sounds like a fair trade. When?"

Kelly chews on her bottom lip, thinking, one hand planted on her curvy hip. "Tomorrow night? I've still got a lot of unpacking to do, and I promised myself I'd get at least my clothes done today."

"Sure," I say. "Tomorrow night sounds great. Just text me when you're ready and we'll figure it out. "

We exchange numbers, and just like that, she’s available to me anytime, anywhere. She looks pleased, and the smile she gives me makes my chest ache. "See you later, Cam," she says, heading back into her house.

I finish up with the weed eater, and it's dark by the time I head inside. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I take it out onto the front porch and watch the stars come out. Nothing about my day has been too odd or out of place, but I'm being pulled in two different directions anyway.

First, my attraction and near obsession with Kelly is growing every time I see her, and second, I can't shake the feeling of wrongness I had about that Frank guy at the hardware store.

Covington is a small town, but not tiny, so it's more than likely the friend he was talking about wasn't my Kelly, but I can't seem to make myself believe that.

Before I climb into bed, I send her a quick text.

Me: Remember, if something is bothering you, I'm right next door. Never hesitate to call.

It's around 3 AM when my phone goes off, and at first I think I'm dreaming.

Groaning, I roll over and grab the device, and my heart jumps into my throat when I see Kelly's name on the screen.

I hit the green button. "Hey, everything okay?"

"Cam," her voice is shaky. "I-I'm sorry, I know we only met yesterday, but you said to call if something was ever wrong, and … and...."

I'm already on my feet, pulling my jeans on with the phone braced between my shoulder and ear. "What's wrong?"

"It could be nothing, the house settling or something, but I swore I heard someone messing with the doorknob downstairs. "

I swallow hard. "Are the doors locked?"

"Yeah."

"And the windows?"

"I think so."

"Stay on the phone with me, Kelly. I'm coming over."

"Okay."

My blood roars in my ears, and the moment I've got the front door open, I sprint toward her house.

"You're outside?" she asks, her voice shaking.

"Just crossed into your yard," I confirm. "I'm not going to hang up until I'm at your door, all right?"

"O-okay."

She's scared, and I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around her and protect her, but right now my focus is getting to her. "What are you doing right now, honey?"

"Um, I'm standing upstairs by the railing."

"Are all the doors and windows locked?"

"Yes."

"Good girl."

Just like she said, the door is locked when I reach it, and I rap my knuckles against it three times. "I'm here, Kelly."

The line goes dead, and the wait for the door to open is the longest few seconds of my life. The moment it opens, I rush forward, pulling her into my arms and holding her close. Her body is shaking, and she clutches my shirt.

"Thank you," she whispers. "Thank you for coming. "

"Of course," I say, stroking her back. "Always."

She pulls away, and when our eyes meet, it's like the air is sucked out of the room. There's something here between us, and even in the midst of a crisis, I'm acutely aware of it.

"So, um, what's the plan now?"

"Now, we check your house."

"Okay."

The upstairs is clear, and Kelly follows behind me, staying close, while we clear the downstairs, as well. Every room is empty, and the windows and doors are locked up tight.

"See? All clear," I say, smiling down at her.

"Thank God." She sighs, leaning against the wall behind her and pressing a hand to her chest. It's then I realize that she's not wearing a single thing beneath her thin, short pajamas and that her nipples are hard points against the fabric.

The urge to lean down and nip at one through the shirt is so powerful I have to clench my fists to regain control.

"Kelly," I say slowly, "I need you to tell me the truth, okay? Is there anyone who might be a danger to you? It doesn't just affect you. It affects the whole neighborhood, and I need to be aware."

She looks guilty, and a cold ball of fear drops into the pit of my stomach.

"Sweetheart," I murmur, brushing my knuckles over her cheek. "It's not an accusation, just a question."

Tears fill her sapphire eyes, but she dashes them away before they can fall.

"It really shouldn't be an issue—I mean, he lives in Boston for goodness’ sake—but I had a.

.." She swallows, and this time I let my hands slide down to her shoulders, steadying her.

"I had a stalker. He was a teacher's assistant, but he became weirdly obsessed with me.

He never hurt me or anything, but he'd leave creepy gifts outside my door, and I swore he watched me when I left my night classes.

The police never caught him, so he was never charged, which isn't fair, but I was so sure the issues would be over once I moved. "

"Shit, Kelly. I'm sorry." I already knew the answer before I asked. My instincts are almost never wrong. "What's his name?"

When Kelly says it, the word hangs heavily between us. "Frank."