Trading with the Boys

“Of course.”

“Mr. Nelson threw a little party for us,” I went on. “We came back here for pizza. You made cookies back then too,” I smiled, “but nothing as good as this.”

I held up what remained of my chocolate chip consolation prize, which at this point wasn’t much. Serena chuckled as I popped it in my mouth.

“I didn’t make those cookies, I picked them up at a big box store,” she said. “Costco’s finest.”

“Ah. That explains it.”

“So… you used to hang out with David?”

“Not hang out, no. Not really. I mean, we traveled in the same circles sometimes. But we were never close or anything.”

She nodded her head, squinting. Maybe trying to remember.

But I remembered. Shit, I remembered her well. Back then Serena was young — too young to be David’s mom. Young enough to be his sexy stepmom though.

Hell, she was still young now.

“So you’re here all alone now,” I said abruptly. “Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Divorced, you said.”

“Nearly three years ago,” she affirmed.

“And they left you with all this,” I said, swinging an arm over the yard grandly. “David and Mr. Nelson. To take care of it all by yourself.”

“You catch on quick, Jacob.”

She was looking up at me with those hazel eyes, the inner irises flecked with chestnut brown. Her lashes were long, her lips plump and full. I’d always thought of her as Mrs. Nelson, or as David’s stepmom. As someone who was taken care of by others, and therefore off limits.

But now…

Now I saw her as an actual woman. As someone beautiful. Sensual. Sexy.

As someone attainable.

I leaned in again, allowing myself to break the bubble of space between us. To her credit Serena didn’t flinch. She was backed up against the shed, but she didn’t turn away. She didn’t avert her eyes or change the subject, even as my face drifted closer to hers…

“They left you here alone, while they went on with their lives,” I murmured.

I let my voice go low and throaty as I said the words. Sullenly, she nodded.

“That’s some grade-A bullshit.”

Serena was cornered now, as helpless as a wounded animal. Even with the sun beating down I could feel the heat coming off her. The buzzing of insects around us was a cacophony of white noise.

“You can call me,” I told her. “But not just to start the lawnmower.”

I slid one palm against the shed and leaned in even further. Our eyes locked. We were so close now I could feel her breath against my lips.

“I want you to call me when you need anything at all.”

Three