The Player Next Door

But that is wishful thinking that will never come to pass. As long as I’m with Shane, Penelope will be a part of my life, for better and for worse.

So far, it’s definitely the latter.

“Scarlet!” Shane calls out, followed by the sound of feet climbing my stairs.

“I’m in the bath.” My heart does its routine pitter-patter—he has clearly taken the liberty to use the spare key I hid on my porch. I’m beginning to think I might as well just give it to him.

Shane appears from around the corner, a paper bag bearing the logo from the local Mediterranean restaurant in his grasp, the key dangling from his finger. “I didn’t want to knock and drag you out of bed if you still had a headache. And then I heard voices.”

“I’m just talking to Justine.” Exactly how much did he hear?

My eyes rake over his pleasing form. He’s still in the track pants and black Dri-FIT shirt that hugs his torso and shows off his immaculate body. No one has ever made casual clothes look as sexy as this man does.

And now he’s leaning against the door frame, shamelessly perusing my naked body in the tub.

Don’t get sucked into this thirst trap, Scarlet.

To Justine, I say, “Gotta go. Shane just magically appeared.”

“Hey, Scarlet’s sexy neighbor!” Justine’s playful voice carries.

He smirks. “Hey, girl.”

“When’s that auction of yours?”

“Beginning of December.” His smirk grows wider. “Why? You want to come bid on my big, dumb dick?”

So he did hear that.

As expected, Justine is unfazed. “Nah, you’re too pricey, pretty boy. I want someone cheap so I can make Bill jealous.”

I shake my head. She’s kidding, of course. I hope. “Talk to you later.”

Shane sets the brown bag on my dresser and then steps into the bathroom to sit on the edge of the tub, leaning his back against the tile wall.

My nipples pebble under his leisurely gaze, but he doesn’t make a move to touch me.

“You still mad at me?” he finally asks.

“I wasn’t mad at you. I was just … mad.” I flick at the water’s surface.

He studies a small cut on his index finger. “I went to talk to Penelope.”

So, that’s where he’s been for the past four hours. “And?”

“And I told her that what she’s doing is wrong and harmful. She’s going to stir up old dirt about her dad and that will bother Cody way more than kids teasing him about us being together.”

Peter Rhodes’s affair with my mother and his ejection from the mayor’s position was certainly newsworthy. While his reputation seemed to have recovered since, I doubt he could step into a restaurant for a few years after without earning a raised eyebrow and a few whispers. But people moved on. The only one who hasn’t seems to be Penelope. “What’d she say?”

He makes an unintelligible sound. “She said she doesn’t want to see Cody get hurt by her father like she was when she was young.”

“That would be a valid concern, if you were married and having an affair. And she’s not the only one who was hurt by that.”

“Yeah, I pointed that out too. I think she knows it.” He smirks. “Somewhere very deep down inside.”

I snort. “Are you sure you’re not giving her too much credit?”

“Maybe. But I have to. It’s the only way I can deal with her, and I have to be able to deal with her. No matter what else she is, she’s my son’s mother. She isn’t going to just disappear.”

He’s right, of course. “Thank God one of you is mature.”

His gaze settles on my tiny bathroom’s ceiling, and the peeling paint. “Yeah, well, she said she’ll consider not going through with this formal complaint bullshit.”

Even though it’s not a guarantee, I feel lighter. “I didn’t think she could be reasoned with.”

“She can be when she’s not out for blood.”

“With you, maybe.”

He grunts, but he doesn’t disagree. “I’m sure it’ll cost me my soul at some point.”

I sigh with relief. This entire ordeal has been draining. “I’m guessing it wasn’t a fun conversation, so thank you for going over there and dealing with her.”

“It wasn’t so bad. I got to see Cody. Apparently, he’s been chattering nonstop about you at home. He told her that he really likes you.” He smiles wryly. “He figured out that she’s not happy about us dating. I think he was trying to make her okay with the idea, but that actually might have been what set her off.”

“That’s why she was hell-bent on blowing up my life? Because her son told her he likes his dad’s girlfriend?” My heart pangs for the poor boy who feels he needs to pacify his mother’s insecurities. No child should have to do that. “She’d rather him hate me?”

“I don’t know. But she said she’s afraid he’ll end up liking you more than he likes her.”