“Maybe…I had to use a lot. I don’t even like creamer but I was trying anything to make it taste better. You really need a Keurig.”
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…she began counting down to one.
It was a coping mechanism that Scott had been taught when he was a pre-teen and was dealing with anger issues. When the behavioral therapist suggested it, Stephanie hadn’t had much faith that it would help, but it had. When Scott started getting agitated all she had to do was remind him to count and the majority of the time he was markedly calmer by the time he got to one.
Five, four, three, two, one, she finished. It hadn’t taken away all of her frustration but it’d definitely shaved the sharp corners off. She uncurled her fingers, which had balled tightly into fists and rolled the tension out of her shoulders.
Soon enough she would deal with her sister, but first she needed to deal with her coffee crisis. No cream meant she would need sugar. Lots and lots of sugar.
One tablespoon quickly turned into ten as she watched the granules dissolve in the dark liquid. Dipping the spoon, she stirred the brew then leaned over the kitchen island to toss the empty creamer into the trash. Instead of making the shot, the container bounced and landed on the floor. That’s when she saw that the garbage was overflowing with a pizza box, a two-liter, paper towels and an empty bag of chips.
Come on.
This entire morning had been like a nightmare flashback of her life before the twins had moved out. The endless cleaning, cooking and laundry. When she thought about her childhood, or lack thereof, Stephanie just went numb. She wasn’t sure if it was a defense mechanism or self-preservation, but whatever it was got triggered now.
Like a programmed robot Stephanie walked over, pulled the bag out of the bin, picked up the debris on the floor and walked out the screen door. The metal frame slammed behind her as she stalked out back to the garbage bin. When she didn’t see it in the small, cemented area on the side of her condo her emotions immediately blamed Simone, sure that somehow she was responsible for the missing bin, but then her brain reminded her that it was trash day.
The only problem was last night she hadn’t put the bin out in the street. After her twelve-hour shift turned into sixteen, she’d been half delirious by the time she’d made it home.
Lifting up on her toes, she peeked over the wooden slats of the fence and saw that, sure enough, her trash bin was sitting just off the curb at the end of her driveway and it wasn’t alone. Beside it sat tall, dark and sexy’s bin.
Her heart skipped at the sight of the two bins sitting side by side and she had to remind herself that he was her neighbor and she was getting excited about garbage cans. He lived next door to her and he did nice things like bring over her package, or saving her paper from the neighborhood cat that liked to use it as a chew toy, or apparently mowing her side of the lawn. He was being neighborly. Nothing more. He was being nice because it was what people that lived next to each other did. That was it. She wouldn’t allow her hormones or her emotions to read more into it. Move along heart, nothing to see here. They were neighbors. End of story.
Satisfied that she’d squashed any garbage bin inspired fantasies, she lifted the metal latch and pushed the gate open. After a quick scan of the front yard to make sure that Ace wasn’t in his garage so he wouldn’t see her with wet hair in cutoff sweats and a T-shirt, Stephanie double-timed it down the driveway and pulled her bin back up to the side of the condo. Just as she was closing the gate her eyes fell on the now lone bin.
Should she return the favor?
Her mind was weighing the risk-to-reward ratio. Every second that she spent outside there was a greater chance of another face-to-face, which she didn’t want to happen. On the flip side, it was the right—and neighborly—thing to do.
Her feet began moving, making the decision for her. Moments like these were when she wished the rude gene that allowed a person to be selfish hadn’t skipped over her. Her sister seemed to have gotten it, both of her parents certainly had, but not her.
Somehow the wheels on Ace’s trash bin sounded louder than hers as she tugged it up the concrete path that led to his back gate. She was probably being paranoid. Still, her heart raced with fear that she was going to get caught. Which was ridiculous considering she wasn’t doing anything wrong.
When she made it to her destination she clumsily pushed the bin to the left as she lifted up on her toes so she could reach over the wooden planks and unhook the latch. That’s when she heard a sound behind her and her heart slammed into her ribs like a crash test dummy against a wall.
Before she had a chance to turn a deep voice rumbled, “I can get that.”
A tanned, sculpted arm appeared beside her head, which was still facing away from the incredible body that the arm belonged to. Easily, he reached over the gate and pulled up the latch. The gate swung open and her heart began beating once again.
She knew that as soon as she turned around she would be face-to-face with tall, dark and sexy and that knowledge hit her with a sensual force that sent a flutter racing down her spine. Her heart began pounding with a vengeance against the ribcage it had just slammed into as she lowered down on her heels. Her body’s reaction was as embarrassing as it was invigorating. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this, if ever.
Ten, nine, eight…her countdown was still brought on by frustration but this time it was of the sexual variety. Slowly she pivoted towards the man that her brain knew was off-limits, but her body was screaming for her to, how did Misty put it…audition.
***
When Ace had heard the clunking sound of his trash bin outside his kitchen window, he’d looked out expecting to see Simone. She’d stopped by the night before with a large pizza and a twelve pack explaining that it was too much food and beer for her to finish on her own. She said she’d picked it up for dinner with her sister, but that her sister had ended up having to cover for an ER nurse that called out.
He’d politely declined her offer, claiming that he’d already eaten and had work to do. Disappointment registered on her face before she quickly replaced it with a flirty smile as she declared that he owed her a rain check, and with that she had headed back next door.
He was in shock that these two women were sisters. They seemed like polar opposites. But then, it dawned on him that people thought the same thing about him and Grant. Ace had inherited his Spanish mother’s dark hair and olive complexion. Her parents had emigrated from Spain and settled in Georgia where his grandparents had opened a successful café that they still ran to this day. The only trace of his father’s German heritage was in his striking blue eyes. Other than that, he was the spitting image of his maternal grandfather.
In contrast, his older brother looked like a surfer Ken doll come to life. From his blond hair to his impressive six-foot-four stature. And their differences didn’t stop there. Grant was the life of the party and Ace was more reserved. Grant was reckless and impulsive. Ace was measured and controlled.
Which was why it was so out of character for him to rush outside when he’d seen that it was Stephanie, and not Simone. His impulse hadn’t been a “neighborly” one, though he knew that nothing could happen between the two of them. For several reasons. For one, his life was a mess, and one that he had no desire to clean up. Which led to reason number two: he wasn’t in the market for anything serious, and casual didn’t really work when you lived next door to someone. Not that it was even an option. Unlike her sister, Stephanie was definitely not giving him the green light. If anything, she was putting up pretty clear signals that she had zero interest in even getting to know him, much less anything more than that.
Yet, here he was. Staring down at the woman that had somehow managed to work her way into his thoughts and dreams without even trying.
“Thanks.” He tilted his head towards the plastic bin that she held in one hand, gripping it so tight he could see the whites of her knuckles.