Authors: Sommer Marsden
I made a quick right into my driveway and pulled up to the quaint facade of 213 Lady Bug Lane. Home sweet home. Small stone cottage, brown roof, black shingles, red front door. Tucked back from the main road with groups of towering trees that flanked it, it was very much a fairy-tale house.
Hopefully there are no trolls or wicked witches, I thought. I put the car – a 1979 Chevy Malibu – into park and opened the car door.
Fall had come to the East Coast and the wind had some bite to it. I shivered as my boots hit the gravel and the wind actually kicked up high enough to whistle. I turned toward it and saw that the way it swept down the hillside toward my home created almost a tunnel effect. The wind had to buffet around the large tower and down between the three stone houses that faced me. When the streams of air reconvened they hit my little house head-on. Well, if it happened to be blowing in my direction that day.
Three stone houses across the road.
The three little pigs, the three bears, the three billy goats Gruff –
I shook my head. Where was all this fairy-tale shit coming from?
‘Stress.’ My own voice spooked me a little, so I put my body into action.
My boots ticked loudly on the wide wooden plank porch. I took it all in, roughly planed wood beneath my feet that appeared untreated. A two-person swing suspended by hardwood rafters overhead gave a gentle sway in the breeze as I approached the red front door. Pretty cool.
I opened the screen door and swallowed hard. Something about the house made me nervous, made me feel like the time had come for me to be a successful adult. Leaving behind a life consisting of meals comprised of Ramen noodles, man-child partners who pouted when they didn’t get their way (no matter how good they were at fucking) and dreams that weren’t quite panning out.
‘You can do this,’ I told myself. I tried to turn the knob and it wouldn’t turn. There was a card stuck in the door jamb. I read it. ‘Realtor,’ I sighed.
Of course! Had I actually thought that I’d be able to open the door and just walk in? A key usually helped.
I let the screen door bang shut and eyed the swing as a bigger gust of wind propelled it. ‘Nice.’
I’d always wanted a porch swing. And it was nice. It had some cushions on it and I could imagine sitting on that swing as the fall set in and put its feet up to stay for a while. A mug of tea or a glass of wine: watching the mountains in the distance turn vibrant with autumn’s fiery colours.
‘But not until you have a key, dumb ass,’ I chided myself.
I tossed the small travel tote full of magazines and snacks on the swing to wait. Then I turned face-first into a wall of a man.
‘Who are you talking to?’
I let out a squawk – an embarrassing aviary impersonation that set my cheeks blazing. My hands came up instinctively to steady myself. ‘I … who … I …’
I shook my head and he helped me find my equilibrium with one gentlemanly hand on my elbow.
‘Coop, is the “who”. I’m your neighbour. Now –’ he cocked his head, green eyes bright despite the overcast day ‘– the only question left is the “I” part. Who are
you
?’
‘I’m Farrell – McGee … I’m Farrell McGee,’ I said, pushing my shoulders back as if it had taken me a moment to recall my identity. ‘This is my house. Only …’ I spared the quaint red door a wistful glance.
‘No key?’
‘No key,’ I echoed.
Coop, who I assumed lived in one of the three little pigs stone houses, pointed to the small square of paper in my hand. ‘Well, that’s the place to go if you need your key. I can drive you if you need –’
I waved a hand at him and took a step back. Oh no, this was not how I wanted to start my time at Tower Terrace. Flirting with a neighbour and starting something I’d probably regret. It was only the offer of a ride, but the look in his eyes said more.
I suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with another gust of wind. ‘If you’d just point me in the right direction. I need to find my way around eventually, right?’
He nodded, a lock of wheat-coloured hair falling over his broad forehead.
Very boyish. Very handsome. Very off limits.
‘Go back to the main road. Take your second left and the third right. Broad Street. It’s hard to miss. It’s the only building on Broad Street painted red. They should be able to help you.’
I nodded once and backed up another step. ‘Thanks … Coop.’ I couldn’t help myself. ‘Coop, that’s an unusual name. Don’t hear that often.’
He grinned at me and sticking with the fairy-tale theme, I had a flash and sizzle of the big bad wolf leering at me. My stomach twisted in on itself and heat flared between my legs. Awesome, a hormone reaction
already
. I bit my lip and tried to focus on his answer instead of how nice his mouth was.
‘Jim Cooper … hence, “Coop”,’ he said, putting out a hand. I stared at it dumbly before my brain kicked in and I shook the proffered hand.
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘Fascinating stuff, yeah?’ He hadn’t let go of my hand.
‘
I
think so,’ I said before I could think better of it. I pulled my hand from his and cleared my throat. ‘Well, I’d better go,’ I said and waited for him to move away.
It took Coop a moment, what with all the staring at me, but finally he shot me one more grin and then started down my wooden steps.
My
. Wooden. Steps. It made me feel a flash of pride and excitement.
‘Good luck getting your key. I’m the middle house across the road should you need anything. At all,’ he said.
The tone, the words, the accent on the
anything
. Oh God, he was one of those men. Men who had tons of self-assurance and sexual prowess and total faith in their bedroom abilities. Those men were dangerous.
‘They also happen to be man-sirens to the likes of you,’ I said to myself in the safety of my car. It came out on a shaky sigh and I noticed a light tremble in my hand as I turned the key and the engine caught.
I looked up as I started to back out of my driveway. Coop was just standing there. Waiting. Watching me. That half-smile on his face. I bet he had that half-smile after he fucked a girl, too.
‘Stop,’ I said to myself. But I doubted I would.
* * *
It was a red building. Very, very red. Like blood. I was pretty sure my blood pressure was rising as I entered. It was the tallest building on the street but having a thing about elevators I tried to find the steps. When I opened the door I was met with caution tape and orange cones.
Great. It’s like an obstacle course. What will I have to power through to get my fucking keys
?
‘Elevator it is,’ I whispered. ‘It’ll be fine.’
I pushed the button and nervously tapped my foot while I waited. The lobby was pretty much deserted barring the smiling, bleached-blonde woman who’d greeted me and informed me that Pann Realty was on the fourth floor. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about getting on the elevator with a crush of other folks.
The doors popped open and I stepped in. Just me, myself and I. I took a deep breath. It would be fine. The doors were almost shut when a man nearly dove through. All six-foot-four (at least) of lanky man. Dark hair that curled wildly around his forehead, dark-brown eyes that were the epitome of that clichéd description:
piercing
. He smiled at me and I saw a flash of white teeth in a dark goatee.
He’s very Satan-ish
…
The wild thought bloomed in my head just as he pushed the button for the third floor. ‘Sorry to startle you. I’m running late … as usual.’
The doors took their sweet time closing and when the elevator started going up it was a sluggish ascent at best. My nerves jangled.
‘I … it’s fine,’ I said. I could handle one more person in the carriage, right? Even if it was slow as shit. I mean it was just me and him. So why did the elevator feel so small? And cramped. And warm.
He stuck his hand out and for the second time in thirty minutes, I grabbed a big warm man-hand. ‘Deke. Deke Wells. And you … you, I’d remember.’ His gaze swept over me and I felt a flex deep inside as if he were touching me. ‘So you must be new.’
‘Farrell McGee,’ I almost whispered. Where had my voice gone? ‘I just moved in … well, I’m trying to move in if I can get a key to my door.’
He chuckled and it wormed through me, a sudden buzz of lust and attraction. ‘Well, welcome,’ he said.
I almost asked him why he’d chuckled but then the elevators shivered, banged raucously and froze. Then the lights went out.
‘Shit,’ Deke said.
‘What? What shit?’ I gasped. Already putting a hand out to find the wall and steady myself.
‘It does this sometimes. It’s an old elevator. And the custodian is, well, he’s pretty slow.’
‘What are you saying?’ I asked, my fingers brushing something to my left.
‘We could be here for a while.’ When Deke grabbed my hand, I realised that what my fingers had brushed over wasn’t the wall. It was him. Big, lanky, strong and now that I was closer, smelling of wood smoke and pine and cinnamon …
him.
Damn.
‘It’ll be okay,’ he said, pulling me back just enough that I brushed against him which helped me get my bearings.
He was warm against me, but I shivered.
‘Your hands are freezing. Are you claustrophobic?’
‘Not so much that,’ I whispered as if louder noise would make us plummet to our deaths. ‘I just don’t like elevators. How long? How long will we be here?’
‘Do you want the truth or do you want a lie?’
I sighed. ‘The truth, though the smart money is probably on the lie.’
‘Probably half an hour to an hour. George has a good heart but slow hands.’
‘Great.’ I moved my hands around to try and find the railing that ran along the sides of the elevator. I didn’t think this poor man needed to be holding me like some damsel in distress. But what my fingers brushed was most definitely not the wall of the elevator. My hand froze.
‘Um …’ he said. And there was that dark and almost sinister laughter that somehow slid up my spine and under my hair and prickled my scalp like electricity.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.
A moment ticked by and I was afraid to breathe. I felt like I might laugh or cry or scream, or possibly all three at once.
‘But not enough to move it, eh?’ he asked, moving his body just enough that I felt the hard push of his cock to my hand.
My face heated with a blush. I was grateful he couldn’t see.
‘Shit. First I grope you and then I … just keep right on groping you. I don’t even move my hand. Have I mentioned the one thing that freaks me out is elevators? And a dark one that is being worked on by a slow man is the worst case scenario.’
‘Hunh,’ he said and I could
hear
him smile.
‘And my hand is still on your cock!’ I blurted, finally ripping my hand away.
‘Hey, whatever calms you down, Farrell McGee.’
I couldn’t help but snort, but my hands were shaking and I felt a little light-headed.
‘You’re really scared,’ he said.
‘I’m –’
‘It’s coming off of you in waves. It’s palpable. That’s hard to pull off. Palpable fear.’
‘I am nothing if not talented.’
‘What do you do?’
‘I’m a failed actress. You?’
‘Failed writer. But I am currently the butcher for our small town.’
‘Ah, I love meat.’
Dead silence.
‘Oh my God. I swear I’m not normally this stupid.’ I put my hand up to brush my hair out of my face, in the dark it felt like a million tiny spiders tickling my cheeks. But I brushed over him instead – I was starting to wonder if it really was an accident – and he took my hand and squeezed it between his warm ones.
‘Breathe,’ he said. He put my hands flat on his chest and then placed his over the top of mine. I stood there, trying to calm down and feeling the steady and easy beat-beat-beat of his heart.
I took a deep breath and held it before blowing it out. The same way I did for stage fright.
‘Better?’ he asked, his face close, his breath smelling of mint.
‘Better,’ I echoed.
‘You smell good,’ he said. ‘Like peaches and … I can’t quite put my finger on it.’ Deke leaned in and sniffed right at the juncture of neck and shoulder. My skin prickled almost violently. ‘Honey?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘All I can smell is you.’
What was I doing? My God, I had just met this man, had only seen him in the light for a few moments and now – if my nether regions were to be believed – I wanted him. Badly.
‘And what do I smell like?’ He put his hands on my lower back, splaying his fingers, spreading their warmth. He pulled me just a touch closer and though his cock wasn’t touching me, I felt – or imagined I felt – the energy from his hard on mingling with my own lustful energy.
‘Pine and cinnamon and wood smoke. Like the outdoors. That’s what you smell like.’
‘Hunh. Good nose. I spent all day at a client’s fishing cabin, dressing a deer.’
For some odd reason, I imagined a deer in a skiing ensemble and snorted. But even as the laughter burst out of me, I pushed my pelvis to his. Brazen, but it was what I felt the urge to do. So I did it.
New life. New way of doing things.
‘Dressing?’ I rotated my hips just a bit and his fingers brushed over my skin sliding lower to slip beneath the waistband of my jeans.
‘It means butchering. But don’t worry,’ he said, when I went a bit stiff. ‘I cleaned up real good and even had some coffee by the fire before I left.’
His mouth came down on mine then and I figured, fuck it. I was scared and horny and he was handsome and Satan-ish and felt damn good pressed against me.
I let his tongue bully mine before I put my hands in that dark mussed hair I remembered and hauled him to me. Deeper went the kiss and when he bumped his erection against me so I could feel how turned on he was, I nipped his lip.
‘Damn,’ he said. ‘Welcome to town.’
‘Shh. Kiss me,’ I said, rubbing my hand over his cock, squeezing his length through his jeans until he groaned. ‘I need to be distracted.’
‘I can do that,’ he said against my lips. Then he was turning me. A flipping, flying, falling sensation because of the darkness. My back ended up pressed to the wall of the elevator, my ass riding that metal bar I’d been searching out.