And then I’d found the house, under my budget, and it felt like even more of a sign. So now here I was, and I could already tell I’d made the right choice.
I’d taken a few breaks with Judy along our drive down, and the way her little eyes had lit up at her first view of the beach had made all of it feel worth it. And now, my new neighbor is definitely an addition to the “plus” column.
While she’s keeping Judy occupied, I help the movers, directing them on where things need to go and adding an extra set of hands where I’m needed, and with my help, we get the truck emptied pretty quickly.
I tip the guys and send them off before heading back to check on Judy and Kristen. They’ve moved on from blocks and now were putting together a puzzle.
Watching her from the doorway, playing with my daughter so easily, it's a pretty picture. I find myself itching to say something, but I can't figure out what. Should I ask her out? Is that too forward? I don’t really even know her.
But before I can figure out what to say, my doorbell rings. Apparently, I'm popular today. Or maybe, and more likely, the movers had left something behind.
When I get down to the front door, however, it's definitely not a mover on the other side.
The guy at my front door looks like he's stepped right off of the set of some TV medical drama or something, as the dreamy doctor that everyone drools over. He’s tall, and shapeless blue-green scrubs he’s wearing aren’t enough to mask an absolutely insane body. His brown hair is sun-kissed with gold, and when he flashes me a smile, I’m not sure what’s more dazzling: that, or his piercing blue eyes.
I’d figured out I was queer back in high school, although I’d never officially slapped a label on myself. I kind of figured I was somewhere under the “bisexual” umbrella, but with all the other labels like pansexual or omni or the multitude of other ways people identify, I’ve never really known exactly where I fall, nor do I much care.
All I know is that there’s never been a line as far as who I’m attracted to. Hot is hot. Although admittedly I don’t have much experience with guys. There’d been one short-lived high school romance, and another, embarrassingly cliché fling with a TA in college.
“Um, can I help you?” I ask, feeling a little flash of déjà vu.
“Hi, I’m looking for Kristen? She said she might be coming by here.”
The two of them don’t share any resemblance beyond both being insanely attractive brunettes, but even so, I find myself hoping that maybe he’s a brother. Or a cousin?
“Um, yeah, she’s become my daughter’s new best friend,” I chuckle, stepping back to let him enter, “Stephen Welch. Come on in.”
“Joel Boyd. Thanks,” he steps inside, greeting me with a handshake.
That little bit of contact is all it takes to make my heart beat faster. Fuck. I’m not sure who I’m more attracted to; him or Kristen. So it’s just my luck that once we rejoin the girls, he immediately bends over to greet Kristen with a kiss. “Hey, honey, having fun?”
“Oh, we’re having a great time, huh, Judy?” Kristen beams at my daughter, and even as my heart is sinking in disappointment, I can’t help but feel it lift when Judy grins back and crows “Yeah!”
“You’ve been such a huge help,” I tell Kristen gratefully, “Thanks for keeping her occupied while we got everything moved in.”
“Aww, it was nothing.”
“Listen, I was just gonna get some pizzas tonight rather than try and cook while I’m still unpacking dishes. Would you guys like to join me?” I offer.
The two of them exchange a glance. “Sure, that’d be great,” Kristen agrees.
“I’ll run home and change first, I can bring over some beers or sodas or both,” Joel offers.
“I wouldn’t say no to a beer,” I tell him.
I call and order pizza, then my new friends head home briefly so Joel can change out of his scrubs and get drinks, and so Kristen can put the last of the cooled cookies away.
I can’t stop grinning as I bring Judy to the living room and settle her with some toys, well within my line of sight as I’m in the kitchen unpacking a few boxes: glasses, plates, dishes, anything I might need for dinner, just in case. I know it’s unlikely that we’ll need utensils for pizza, but I’d rather be prepared.
Okay, maybe I’m trying too hard or something to impress them, but I can’t seem to help myself. Besides, can’t hurt to make a good impression on the new neighbors, right?
Chapter Three
Joel
“On your left.”
“Yeah, I see him.”