Creed
I watchher walk all the way around her house before I head back inside. I’m in desperate need of a shower before work. I should be hightailing it to get ready, but my brain is occupied with my gorgeous next-door neighbor. I’ve seen her in passing, but this is the first time I’ve ever had a conversation with her, and it’s left me wanting more.
I head back inside and let the scalding hot stream wash away the day’s tedious yard work. This house was a mess when I bought it, and I’ll be damned if I let it get that way again. Growing up in apartments all my life, I take pride in owning my own place. The fact that there’s a curvy little bookworm next door is the icing on the cake.
I get dressed and head to downtown Thunder. I’ve got a pretty busy night ahead of me, but that’s a good thing. If I’m busy, it means I’m making money. The tattoo life can be pretty rough if you let it run you over. There’s always a reason to party and plenty of women to party with. I’ve had my fill of that life, and now I just want something a little quieter. Stability may not sound sexy, but the thought of it turns me on more than anything.
Melody’s sweet smile flashes in my mind. Even in those sweats, her curves were on full display. I wonder what she writes? I’ve only ever read thriller books—oh, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love Harry Potter, but who doesn’t?
I pop into Sugar Buns for a cup of coffee. Since they’re about to close, the owner, Charlie, slips me a cinnamon roll on the house. I will never turn that down. She makes the best I’ve ever had.
The bells chime overhead as I make my way into the shop, and I’m greeted with the buzz of tattoo machines. It’s always been my dream to run my own shop, but for the time being, this will do. I work with great people and love my job.
I set up for my first client, and once I’m in the zone, I lose track of all time. Three clients later, and I’m ready to call it a day.
“We’re going out for drinks,” my co-worker, Anastasia, says. “Just down the street. Wanna come?”
I contemplate it. A shot of whiskey sounds pretty good after being hunched over for the last seven hours. “Nah,” I say, letting out an exhausted sigh. “I think I just want to head home.”
Anastasia eyes me up and down. We’ve worked together a long time and been friends even longer. “What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been ditching us a lot lately.”
“I haven’t been ditching you guys.” I avert my eyes because it’s true. “I’ve just been tired.” I stretch my arms out wide. It feels great. “I’m getting to be an old man.”
“You’re thirty-five.”
“Exactly.”
Anastasia rolls her eyes. “You’re off the hook,” she points her black fingernail at me, “this time.” I let out a sigh of relief when she walks away. I love the girl like a sister and am too embarrassed to tell her that sometimes when I start partying, I can’t stop. That doesn’t bode well for my finances or my future in general.
I wait until they all leave, then head out to my car. Part of me wishes I could be like everyone else and just get crazy and be fine the next day, but I’ve done some really stupid things when I was partying—things that I can’t run away from. I have the voided child support checks to prove it.
My jaw clenches as I drive home. If only my son’s mother would let me have joint custody, I wouldn’t have to be just a name on a check. I could be a real father. But she thinks I’m a loser, and the man she knew at that time was. Words are a dime a dozen in court, but actions speak louder, and I’m going to prove that I’ve changed my ways. That I’ve built a strong, stable life and that I deserve to be a part of Isaac’s life if it’s the last thing I do.
The clock reads after eleven when I pull into my driveway. Still wound up from thinking about my son, I rest my head on the back of the seat and take a few long breaths before heading into the house. I want dinner, and I want one ice-cold beer to wash it down with. This, I can allow myself. By not hitting the bars with the crew tonight, I’ve earned it.
I hop out of the car and glance over at Melody’s house. The lights are all still on, so I can see her sitting on her sofa. I don’t mean to stare, but I can’t help it. Her cat, Esme, sits on the arm while she stares down at her laptop. Her full bottom lip is tucked between her top teeth as if she’s in deep concentration.
God, even the woman’s profile turns me on.
She closes her laptop, removes her glasses—can you say sexy librarian?—and rubs her face before standing. She’s wearing a pair of too-short shorts and a little tank top that barely conceals her full chest. I know I should turn away, but I can’t. The woman is absolutely mesmerizing to me.
The cat follows her into the kitchen, and when she turns to the sink, she peers out the window. I turn on my heel before she can see me out here. I don’t want to get busted looking like some sort of perverted Peeping Tom, though I have to admit that what I’m thinking definitely qualifies me as such.
I close the door behind me and set down my bag before heading to the fridge. I have to find a way to get to know Melody better. I laugh at myself; she’s not hard to find. Her car’s almost always parked out front, and I’ve seen her watching me work outside. I’m hoping that’s a sign of mutual interest.
I throw the leftovers in the microwave and crack open a beer, shaking my head at the irony of it all. In my partying days, it was so easy to get a woman. It came with the territory—I had swagger—but a woman like Melody deserves more, and I just have to find a way to persuade her to be mine, even if I haven’t the slightest idea how.