“I knocked.” She swallows so hard that it seems to echo in the kitchen. “Uh—the door was open a crack. I called out, but there was no response.”
“So, you just went over to help yourself?”
Her chin juts out, and I have to admire her attempt at bravery because her face is steadily growing scarlet, and I know she’s half ashamed and half afraid of me. If I were standing in my neighbor’s kitchen and they came out nearly naked and dripping wet, I’d be afraid too.
And maybe aroused.
Depending on whether the person naked and dripping wet was Lu-Anne if the situations were reversed.
There is some serious action happening under the towel, and I silently talk my dick down and wipe the thoughts of reverse situations out of my mind before she has a right to sue me for harassment.
“I was going to leave a note if I took anything,” she hisses. “For your information, I was looking for something to kill the spider with.”
“Because you don’t have a spatula or something at your own house?”
“I didn’t want to dirty one of mine. I was going to—uh—leave a note about replacing it the next time I went shopping.”
“You have got to be kidding me right now.”
Her eyes do another slow perusal. They stay above the waist, but they lock on my chest, and there’s a strange gleam there. Her blush becomes a little more furious. I’m on the verge of asking her if she needs a cold shower. By herself, of course. And not at my house.
“I can see this was a mistake. I’m—I’m really sorry.” She goes to try and make a fast escape, but for some reason I can’t comprehend, I find myself moving too. I step left as she does, blocking her way.
“That’s not good enough. You came into my house, uninvited. You were snooping through my things. That’s technically trespassing. Actually, I think it might really be breaking and entering.” The blush fades from her cheeks, and her face becomes deathly pale. There is absolutely no color there, and I start to worry about her passing out.
“So are you—are you going to call the cops?”
I roll my eyes at that, and she visibly breathes a sigh of relief. “If I wanted to call the cops, they would be here already.”
She absorbs that, and her eyes grow wide. Her color fades again, more to ashen this time, but for the life of me, I can’t imagine why. I thought it was reassuring.
“What then?” she asks defiantly, and I can tell she’s forcing bravery. “Are you going to take care of me yourself?”
“Excuse me?” Nope. That statement wasn’t a bit suggestive. She looks seriously afraid, like I might actually cross the room and throttle her.
“I’m standing here in next to nothing because when I heard you nosing around in here, I was having a shower and got out to investigate. So no, I don’t think I’m going to take care of anything at the moment unless it’s getting my clothes back on. I just want an understanding from you that this strange behavior is going to stop.
“I—er…I’m sorry. The spider and the heat must be getting to me.” She sets a hand dramatically at her forehead, but I’m sure it’s just for effect.
“The heat?”
“My air conditioner conked out. It’s a thousand degrees at my place. The spider scared me, but I also haven’t had any sleep in a few days. I—yes. I mean, this won’t happen again. Definitely. I’m sorry for my momentary lapse of judgment, or temporary insanity from heatstroke.”
With that, she dodges past me. I angle, so she doesn’t get a full-on accidental mooning, and put the hand towel strategically between us. She doesn’t stop to look behind her, though. She picks up speed in the living room and practically flies out the door. She shuts it behind her, so I can’t see her running across her lawn, but I can imagine her doing it.
I give my head a shake. That has to have been the strangest thing that ever happened to me. Both times. Can a spider really drive a person to that kind of distraction? Maybe she wasn’t lying about the heat. It is brutally hot out. Maybe she is a little off her rocker.
Maybe I should just go over and get rid of the damn spider and take a look at her air con. It would make my life simpler.
Or maybe I’m looking for another excuse to see my crazy hot—maybe also just simply crazy—neighbor.
What the hell does that say about me and my own life?
I decide not to think about it or Lu-Anne, but that resolution lasts for all of two minutes. It’s not until I’m tugging on a fresh pair of jeans that I realize she was dressed entirely in black. Tight black yoga pants. Long-sleeved black shirt.