Two Hotties Next Door

Chapter One

“What do you think her deal is?” Ace Campton asked as he sipped at his cup of decaf while watching the neighbor as she tried to sketch whatever it was that seemed to have captured her attention. They’d been moved in now for three months, and since then he’d not been able to get a real introduction to the woman. She always seemed so busy, so preoccupied, even when carrying in the groceries.

His best friend, Brett Voss, came up to the window and looked past his shoulder to the lawn. There had to be a hundred crumpled-up pages of paper. She looked frazzled, annoyed, pissed off, and everything in between.

“You know it’s freaky how much time you spend watching her,” Brett said.

“What? I can’t be curious about our neighbor, especially when on the first week here she was tearing everything up and throwing it out the window? I thought she’d been robbed.” When Ace realized it was the actual neighbor, he’d simply gone back inside and waited as someone came with a huge truck and began dumping everything inside. “You’re not the least bit curious about her?”

Brett sighed. “I haven’t thought about it, to be honest.”

“You’re lying. You’ve got to be.” Ace was completely obsessed with the new neighbor, and it made no sense.

“We’ve moved in, and we’ve been making changes. They’ve been way more important than the chick next door. Sorry, but it has. Also, it’s really creepy how much you watch her.”

“We’re in our own little world all the way back here, Brett. Come on, man, you’ve got a dick. You can’t tell me you’re not curious about her? She’s like a little fairy with her green eyes and red hair.” He also noticed that she was constantly wearing dresses, the kind that stopped at her knee and had thin straps. She had a fuller body, curvy with nice, rounded hips and stomach. He also loved the shape and size of her luscious tits.

Running a hand through his hair, he felt fucking wired, and all he wanted to do was talk to her. They’d been inside redecorating for weeks. Work had come first, obviously. As personal trainers they were completely booked up and constantly in demand. They worked six days a week most of the time, so getting to their home had been a constant battle.

It wasn’t that the previous owner did anything wrong, but the person who lived here before was a chick, and they needed to make their love den a bit more male.

“Why don’t you take out the trash?” Brett asked. “You can see if you can talk to her, or how about just doing something other than staring out a window?”

“You make it sound bad.”

“Dude, it is bad. You’re constantly looking out of it.” His friend smirked.

“You don’t think it’s weird taking the trash out on a Sunday?”

“If you don’t do it, I will, and I know you’ve got a hard-on for her.”

Ace wanted to deny it, but he was curious. It was a Sunday, the trash needed emptying, and the mystery woman next door was outside sketching away. He didn’t see a better time to reach out than now.

On the way to the kitchen, he stopped at the mirror to check that a single hair wasn’t out of place. He looked good, felt good, and as he grabbed the trashcan, he kept going over the different kinds of conversations that could happen.

Instead of panicking, he decided to play it cool. When he got to the trashcan, she was still sitting on the front lawn sketching away. He didn’t know what to say, or how to approach her. Did he just come out and blurt it?

“Nice weather we’re having,” he said.

She didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

Seriously, dude, the weather?

Taking a deep breath, he glanced over at her, and again, she didn’t even notice that he existed. This was so fucking embarrassing. Women flocked to him all the fucking time. In fact, they were always around him, giving him their number. He didn’t have a fucking clue as to why it was any different right now.

Clearing his throat, he tried again.

“It certainly is good weather we’re having.”

Dude, what is it about the weather?

Clearing his throat, he saw that she was still doodling.

He didn’t know what the hell to say.

Finally, crossing the lawn, he stuck his hand out. “I’m Ace Campton, nice to meet you.” He had stepped in front of her and thrust his hand at her.

“Oh, my,” she said, jumping back. “You were totally in my light.”

“Excuse me?”

“Who does that? I mean, seriously. Didn’t you see I was doing something?”

He quickly stepped out of the way, and the woman glanced around the space that she’d clearly been sketching and growled.

“Sorry.”

“Great, just great!” She stood up, brushing down her dress. “Who are you?”

“I’m your very friendly neighbor. We moved in on the same day.”