Mister Landlord - Mister Yum - Page 1

Chapter One

Beau Melançon

The last nine months of my life have been complete and utter hell. While I was in Las Vegas at the beginning of the year, winning the Divisional Playoffs, I went out with the team and had a few drinks. And by a few, a mean a fuck ton. Goofing around with the guys on the strip, I fell and tore the tendons in my knee yet again. One week later, we went on to lose the championship against Seattle, but it was a fun ride. After that game, I knew my time was up in baseball. After numerous knee surgeries that didn’t help, I knew it was time to hang up my bat and head home. Twelve years is a long time in baseball, and I am happy with everything I accomplished while I was doing it, but I knew it wasn’t going to last forever.

New Orleans is home. My parents still live there hell almost all of my family lives there. My sister has been acting as my property manager, but now that I am home, I am taking over the duties. Other than a few Christmases, I haven’t been home in eleven years. I went to college in Florida, played for them and was drafted shortly after graduation. It’s a huge change for me since I pretty much breathed baseball.

Now, I am standing in front of the house I own, but I don’t live in it yet. The current tenant’s lease runs out in a year and then I plan on moving in. My current living situation consists of a small apartment in the French Quarter. Though I have money for another house, I have always envisioned starting my own family in this house. Yeah, it needs some work but the 4,200 square foot, eight-bedroom, three full baths, one half bath house with a pool and a hell of a lot of land is perfect for the huge family I plan of having once I find the one.

I’m at the house on a Thursday evening due to a plumbing issue in the master bath that my sister, Émmeline, sent my way. I haven’t dealt with this kind of thing since high school. My father owns a very lucrative plumbing company that I helped him with on weekends. He told me that a woman appreciates a man that can fix things himself and I took that to heart. Before I get out of the truck, my phone rings.

“Baby Bash, what’s up man?” I say instead of hello. Sebastian Samuels is a first baseman on my old team, The Mendocino Menaces and my best friend. He was also the youngest player by six weeks, hence the nickname Baby Bash.

“A lot, actually. I’ll be down in New Orleans next week. We should get together,” he says.

“Sounds good, man. Let me know when,” I say, ending the call. I know his family is from Plaquemines Parish so it would make sense for him to be around these parts.

When I knock on the door, toolbox in hand, and it opens, I am momentarily floored by the woman standing there in a short pink silk robe. Her wild brown hair and the fact that she is wearing a short silk robe makes me think she just woke up. I take a quick glance at my watch and realize that it’s barely six-thirty in the evening.

“Sorry. Ms. Gremillon, uh.” I say but I can’t stop staring at her legs, her thick shapely legs that I instantly picture wrapped around my head. Fucking hell where did that thought come from?

“Oh, okay. Who are you?” she asks, after a second when I don’t answer she clears her throat it takes everything in me to not track my eyes up her body. Sweet baby Jesus, she has curves in all the right places. When I finally bring my eyes to her face, she blushes prettily. She has the most unique blue eyes I have ever seen. Suddenly remembering her question, I clear my throat.

“I am your landlord, Beau Melançon,” I say extending my hand to her.

“Call me Eleanor, please. My grand-mère is Ms. Gremillon,” she says laughing at her own joke. Her New Orleans accent is thick. While her head is thrown back, I drop my eyes down her thick body again. My mouth is watering for her. She is gorgeous, beyond gorgeous. I have never seen anyone like her. I have an overwhelming desire to claim her. Make her mine in every possible way. I am not sure how much time has passed, but her lilting laughter has stopped and she’s just staring at me. “So, how can I help you, before the sun is properly set,” she asks crossing her arms which pulls the short robe up her thighs further. I swallow thickly.

“I, uh, am here to fix the leaky shower faucet,” I answer.

Tags: M.K. Moore Erotic
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