Colby leaned forward on the countertop, squinting at the view through the window. His neighbor, Georgia, had ventured out of her house with a package in one hand and gardening gloves in the other. He walked toward the window, following her with his eyes, and propped his shoulder against the frame. It was such a rare occasion to see Georgia outside that he had to take the time to savor and appreciate the view.
She was obviously prepared to get dirty. She’d tied a purple handkerchief around her head to keep her curly halo of black hair away from her face and was wearing threadbare jeans and a faded White Sox T-shirt. But hell if he could imagine her looking any better. Something about the way those jeans hugged her curves and sat just a little too low in the back, exposing the dip of her tailbone and a swath of creamy cocoa skin, had everything else fading into the background.
She headed toward the side of her house, peeking over her shoulder more than once as if she were waiting for someone to show up in her driveway. She couldn’t be worried about trick-or-treaters yet. It was still too early. A guest, maybe? But no one was there. And Colby would bet money that no one would be coming. Georgia never had visitors—unless they were only stopping by while he was at work. His gut told him that wasn’t the case.
She plopped the package next to her herb garden, kneeled in the grass, and took one last glance toward the front yard. When she seemed assured she was alone, she put on her gloves, pulled a ball of wired plastic pumpkin lights out of the box, and leaned forward, bracing on one hand and stabbing a stake into the ground with her other. Her jeans sank lower down her backside.
Now that was a sight Colby didn’t need to see. Georgia on all fours, the barest peek of her ass taunting him and sending his thoughts in a decidedly X-rated direction. Damn, what he wouldn’t give to end his night with that view, his hands spreading over those flared hips.
But he knew it would never fly. Georgia Delaune was like some mysterious, uncharted island. One with tall, craggy, stay-the-fuck-back rocks around the perimeter and no lighthouse. Not that she’d ever said a cross word to Colby, but he’d gotten the message just the same. He’d tried to flirt with her when she’d first moved in and though he could tell she wasn’t . . . unaffected by him, he’d felt that thick wall rise up between them. Since then, he’d had the feeling that, for whatever reason, he’d been given the Look, but don’t touch label in Georgia’s head.
Because, God knows, she looked—and had seen way more than he’d ever allowed anyone outside his circle to see. But he liked it too much to make her stop.
His neighbor thought she had a secret.
Colby knew better.
“Earth to Colby?”
Colby snapped out of his spinning thoughts. “What?”
Kade lifted an eyebrow. “I said why don’t you go over and invite her to the party? It’d be a neighborly thing to do.”
Colby snorted. “Neighborly?”
“Fine. Fuck neighborly. How ’bout this? You’ve been working your ass off. You look exhausted. And I think you need a little fun in your life. Go invite hot neighbor chick over and have some. We promise to behave—mostly.”
“You totally should,” Tessa said with a sage nod from the doorway of the kitchen. Colby hadn’t even noticed her come in. “That lumberjack getup is like girl Kryptonite. She’ll say yes. Plus, we could use another woman around here to even out the testosterone.”
Kade sent his woman a narrow-eyed glance. “Girl Kryptonite?”
Tessa shrugged and with her tattered dress, it reminded Colby of one of the walking dead from the old “Thriller” video. “Just saying. It’s an empirical observation.” She headed over to Kade and slipped her arms around his waist. “But don’t worry, I’m, of course, into blond, blue-eyed zombies.”
Kade kissed the top of her head. “Yeah, you’re kinky like that.”
Colby smirked. Ten seconds, tops. That was how lon
g he’d give it before his friends would have black lipstick all over each other. He turned back to the window to leave them to their own devices and watched as Georgia lined her garden with the pumpkin lights. Her movements were efficient and her posture stiff, like she was performing a duty instead of something she wanted to be doing, which was kind of strange considering no one needed to have Halloween decorations. But she seemed determined to get them set up.
He should probably leave her to it. He’d tested the waters with her before only to find them chilly and uninviting. He wasn’t one to chase. If someone wasn’t interested in what he was offering, so be it. Plus, he rarely hooked up with anyone outside The Ranch. The vanilla world really had no place for him. But as he watched Georgia lift her hair off the back of her neck and listened to Kade and Tessa kissing behind him, the pang of want went through him.
What did he have to lose? Unlike a random girl he met somewhere, Georgia knew what he was. She might not understand the extent of it, but she’d seen it with her own eyes. He’d seen her curtains twitch and sway on that night he was with Tessa and Kade. And he’d watched those same drapes move late at night when he undressed in his bedroom or when he brought someone home. Either the woman was terrified of him and documenting all of his deviant acts in case he turned out to be a serial killer . . .
Or she was turned on by it.
Tonight, he planned to find out.
It was about time he paid another visit to that isolated island of hers.
—
The fading sunlight felt good on Georgia’s skin. That was what she focused on—the warmth of the late-afternoon rays, the tickle of the fall breeze against her neck, and the smell of the rosemary and thyme growing in her small herb garden.
But only paying attention to those pleasant things took effort. It meant ignoring the prickling of nerves that was an ever-present companion when she was out in the open. She was getting better at handling the anxiety each time, though. That was something. Even on the days she found it more difficult, she forced herself out at least once a day anyway to keep the promise she’d made via Skype to Leesha, her friend and therapist. Baby steps. That was what Georgia was relegated to. But at least they were steps.
Georgia got the string of pumpkin lights all lined up and turned on. She smiled that they were working but quickly realized they only illuminated a bunch of weeds that had popped up since the last time she’d cleaned the garden. Damn. Well, what did she have but time? The kids wouldn’t be coming around for candy for a while still. And even then, she didn’t plan on opening her door. She’d bought a big bowl and made a sign that said Help Yourself to put out on the porch. So she went to work weeding the garden.
She’d never been particularly into yard work before moving to Texas. It was hell on the nails, and she used to care about shit like that. But now it had become an outlet for her—one where she could let her mind wander and relax. Grab and yank, grab and yank. In a way, it was like meditation. And tonight she could use a bit of serenity. It would be a late night of hearing unfamiliar noises outside.