3
Fox
“God damn son of a bitch,” I growl after stubbing my toe on the deck. Chance still hasn’t had the time to fix it. I could probably do it myself, but then I’d have no deck, and who knows how long it would take me. I’m exhausted as all fucking get out, never having had a chance to fall back asleep after the middle-of-the-night escapades last night. Sure, I dozed off, but then something would startle me awake. If it weren’t for the moon still in the sky, I would have gotten up, piddled around the house before I start my morning run.
“Broken-hearted woman mourning a man, singing all hours of the night,” I grumble as I put myself through my morning stretches. When I started my path to recovering from my injuries, the doctor warned me it could take well over a year to get back to my normal routine, and that was just because I had basically a brand-new knee, certain things could trigger a relapse and land me back in rehab. That word alone still makes me shiver. It was a long journey for me. I put the work in, in and out of the office. Sometimes, my knee will act up, but for the most part it’s better than it was before it got shattered to pieces.
“Sorry about that.” I’m knocked out of my thoughts down memory lane by the woman with the voice. Damn, does she have a voice. She’s standing against her deck railing, a mug of something in her hands, hair that covered her face and body from my view last night pulled back in some low side ponytail, giving way to an angelic face, bright green eyes, soft smile, smooth tan skin, and a knockout of a body.
If this woman was crying over a man who left her, he’s surely not worth her time. “Ignore me. I’m a bear in the morning. You okay?” I set aside my attitude because she looks like she could use someone more than she did last night. Her eyes are swollen and red-rimmed.
“Probably not. I didn’t realize it had gotten that late. To be honest, I’m kind of just processing things right now.” She shrugs her shoulders, causing me to look down at the expanse of skin across her chest. Once I realize my eyes are going right to her tits, I move them back up. This woman doesn’t need some guy she doesn’t know gawking at her, even in the clothes she’s barely wearing.
“He’s not worth it, not worth the amount of tears you’re shedding,” I tell her.
“I’d beg to differ, but it’s not really your business. I’ll try not to ruin another night of yours.” The mysterious neighbor turns on her heel, flinging her hair over her shoulder, throwing her attitude back at me. What she doesn’t realize is the view she’s leaving me with, elegant shoulders, squared in stature, an hourglass shape, her ass bouncing with every step, giving way to her shapely legs and bare feet. All of that wrapped up in some kind of silk top and bottoms. If she were my woman, I’d have my say about what she wore, even if it was while on the back porch of a house. There are too many wandering fucking eyes.
I finish going through my paces, working on my legs this time, then I set out in a slow jog down to the shoreline. Most times, I have earbuds playing for background noise, but because it’s so early in the day and the beach is dead, I figure I’ll use the waves as my background instead.
My mind goes blank as I start out at a light jog. It’s the one thing that stops all the noise rattling around in my head. No work, no house issues, nothing but my feet pounding the sand beneath them. By the time the sun is really up in the sky, beating my sweaty body, I’m in a full run. The only thing that interrupts my run is when my watch beeps, letting me know I’ve completed my first mile. My goal is only two miles today, so I turn around and head home, already hoping for a glimpse of the spitfire that has taken residence next door, and apparently also in my fucking head. Too bad she seems to have more baggage than I’m prepared to deal with. That shit is not for me. It’s why I’ve remained single all these years. It’s easier that way. Footloose and fancy free is apparently how I’m meant to be, and it hasn’t failed me yet.
4
Melanie
“Is it too early to drink?” I ramble around the empty space after my run-in with Sir Dickhead. As if he has any right to judge me. I bet if he knew the half of it, he’d be groveling on his knees.