Over the Fence (5 page)

“Ah, Nathan. Finished your rescue attempt?”

I nodded, glancing toward the fence, wondering why I was uncomfortable with Sylvia talking to Kourtney.

“Your neighbor thought I was you. She offered to feed me and although it smells great, I declined on your behalf,” Sylvia explained, arching her eyebrow at me. “I assured her, I’d make sure you ate.”

Anxiety prickled down the back of my neck. I should never have brought Sylvia home with me.

“We should go.”

Sylvia rose from her chair, smirking. “Anxious for the main event, Nathan?”

I grabbed her elbow, dragging her into the house. “I’m starving actually. Let’s go.”

“Good night, Kourtney!” she called over her shoulder. “Enjoy your dinner!” She leered up at me. “I know I certainly will.”

I glared at her for some reason, but all she did was shrug.

“I’m going to go powder my nose.”

I stared after her, but didn’t follow her inside. I couldn’t walk away. Something held my feet to the deck. Instead, I approached the fence.

“Thanks for the offer, Chefgirl. It smells delicious.”

“It’s nothing. I’m glad you’re going out. Have a pleasant evening,” Kourtney replied, sounding . . . off.

“I doubt it’s nothing. I don’t think your cooking would ever be considered ‘nothing.’”

“It’s only dinner.” She sighed, the sound making my shoulders tense. “You’ll have a much better time out.”

How did I explain the sudden feeling I had? That I would rather be sitting on my deck eating the dinner she cooked, talking to her for twenty short minutes, than going out with Sylvia?

How could I explain that to her, when I couldn’t explain it to myself?

“Thank you anyway. Your offer was most generous.”

“Good night, Nathan.”

I had the feeling I’d been dismissed. I didn’t like it.

Unsure what else to say or do, I turned and went inside.

My fractured mood lasted all throughout dinner. The meal I ate wasn’t anywhere near as appetizing as the one Kourtney had shared the other night. Sylvia’s banter, which I always thought amusing, was suddenly banal and annoying. I found myself having to pretend to smile, and force myself to laugh at her jokes.

Finally, she laid down her chopsticks and stared at me. “What seems to be the problem, Nat?”

“Nathan.”

“Your neighbor called you Nat when she thought it was you in the backyard.”

I bristled at her tone, but had no desire to share anything with her. Even more, I didn’t want her talking about Kourtney. “I can’t help what she calls me. I don’t like to be referred to as Nat.”

“Fine,
Nathan
. What the hell is up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re acting like an ass.”

I shifted in my chair. I
was
acting like an ass. “I have a headache.”

She rolled her eyes, throwing her napkin on the table. “I think you have more than a headache, and I think I’m done with this.”

“Where are you going?” I demanded as she stood up.

She shook her head, her hand resting on her hip. “I always enjoyed our time together. You were fun and easy—sex with you was great. But whatever or whoever has you all tied up in knots has changed something. I don’t think you’re any more interested in anything past dinner than I am now.”

I met her gaze head-on. She was right—something was off for me and I didn’t want to take her home.

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “It was great while it lasted.”

I nodded, and started to stand up. “Let me take care of the bill and I’ll drive you back to get your car.”

She held up her hand. “Don’t bother. I’ll grab a cab. Figure it out, Nathan—before it’s too late.”

She turned and left, leaving me wondering what she meant.

The neighborhood was quiet when I arrived home. I pulled into the driveway slowly, taking in Kourtney’s house. It was dark, except for a porch light illuminating a bright-colored wreath that hung on the front door. There were two vivid, red flower pots flanking it, making the entryway homey. I glanced at mine. I had no decorations, no lights, and no flowers. There were a few shrubs that had been planted already when I moved in, but I had added nothing.

I parked the car and went inside, not bothering to turn on any lights. Grabbing a beer, I stepped out back, listening for sounds from next door, only to be greeted with complete silence. I sat down, feeling strange, wondering what had happened earlier and why it bothered me so much that Kourtney knew about Sylvia. I had only spoken to Kourtney a few times, and never officially met her. I had no idea what she looked like or anything about her life—even if she had a boyfriend who could start hanging around.

I certainly didn’t understand why
that
idea made me want to punch something.

She was my neighbor, who was kind enough and had fed me a couple times. Neighbors did that. I got Ricky out of the tree for Mrs. Webster on occasion; Kourtney made me dinner.

It was simple. Neighbors helping neighbors.

I looked over at the empty house next door, wondering why I felt I should be doing something for her.

Why it felt like more than us being neighbors.

Why she felt like more.

Well, shit.

Grimacing, I watched the milk curdle in the cup of coffee I had made. I shook my head, groaning in frustration; that was what happened when you left the milk out on the counter overnight.

Kourtney had been conspicuously absent all day yesterday, even though it was a holiday. I didn’t hear or see her at all. Her house remained dark, and there were no great aromas drifting over the fence to tempt me. Although, I wasn’t sure even if she was there she’d share her food with me again. I had finally eaten some cereal later in the evening when I couldn’t handle the hunger pangs anymore.

Dumping the offending cup, I grabbed the jar of instant and made another one, which I carried out to the deck with the newspaper.

It was still early. I sat down with a sigh and took a sip of the hot beverage, frowning at the bitter taste of the black coffee. Without the tempering edge of cream or milk, I wasn’t very fond of it. A trip to the grocery store later was needed.

I scanned the headlines and sipped coffee, trying to decide what to do with the rest of weekend ahead. I had been invited to a barbeque, but I wasn’t sure I was in the mood to be with other people. Of course, I wasn’t sure I was in the mood to be alone, either.

Reaching over for my mug, I overshot and knocked it with my hand, sending the hot liquid spilling out all over the table. Jumping up, I swore in frustration.

“Not having a good morning, neighbor?”

Turning my head fast, I gazed at the fence with a wide grin. She was there—I hadn’t even heard her moving around—but she was there!

I cleared my throat and tried to keep the excitement out of my voice. “Not so much.”

“It’s awful early for all that cussing and jumping around,” she teased.

I relaxed at the tone. She wasn’t upset with me.

“Some of us were home and asleep at a decent hour yesterday. Where were you? Out partying?”

Her adorable giggle made me smile. “I was working. We have a big seminar coming up and I had to put in some extra hours.”

I sighed in relief at the knowledge she hadn’t been out with someone. “Life’s too short to work all the time.”

“I’m not much for night life. I’ll leave that to you.”

I sucked in a fast breath, and moved a little nearer to the fence. “Yeah, Kourtney, about the other night. Sylvia may have given you the wrong impression.”

“Oh?”

“We weren’t on a date.”

“You weren’t going out to dinner?”

“Well, yes, we were, but it wasn’t like a
date
. . . date.”

“It’s really none of my business.”

“I think she gave you the impression we were, um, closer than we are.” I exhaled a big breath, unsure why it was so important I made her understand. “I came home alone. It was only dinner, in fact only part of dinner, since she walked out.”

“Maybe you should have sprung for a better restaurant.”

I began to laugh, relieved at her teasing. “Pretty sure it wouldn’t have made much difference.”

“Maybe you would have gotten some action.”

I laughed even harder. “I got plenty of action the other night. The Palmela sisters, as you called them, were highly cooperative.”

“Ewww, Nathan. TMI.”

She began to laugh, and everything felt right; the anxious feeling in my chest eased.

“I don’t suppose you have some milk or cream I could borrow, do you? This coffee is bad enough, and without it, I’m having a tough time drinking it, but I really need a cup.”

“I’m impressed, Nathan.”

“Sorry?”

“You make coffee.”

I snickered at her sarcasm. “It’s instant. That’s why it’s extra bad without anything in it.”

She sounded horrified. “That’s not coffee—it’s brown-colored water.”

“It’s all I’ve got.”

Her chair creaked as she moved, and the sliding door opened. I’d gotten smart and left an extra chair by the fence. As I was waiting, I thought about adding a quick trip to Home Depot to the list today to get myself a ladder. Or, at least, a tall step stool.

A noise had me look up. I was surprised to see a large, steaming mug on the top of the fence. “Hey, why didn’t I hear you move the ladder?”

“I gave up taking it down. I figured it was easier to leave it in place.”

Chuckling, I reached up and retrieved the mug. It was a little trickier than a plate, and some of the liquid spilled over as I moved it.

Yeah, I definitely needed a ladder.

I stepped down and took a swallow, moaning in appreciation.

She made kick-ass coffee.

“Thanks. I’ll add it to my list of attributes,” she stated wryly.

I snickered at my lack of ability to keep my mouth shut where she was concerned. My thoughts seemed to find a way out without me realizing.

Ignoring the sodden mess in front of me, I returned to my chair and enjoyed the hot coffee for a few minutes.

“Thanks,” I called out.

“You’re welcome.”

“So if you’re leaving the ladder up, you plan on feeding me again, I assume?”

“Well, I figured I was the one to start the whole stray cat syndrome, so I suppose you’re right.”

I snorted. “Stray cat? Kourtney with a K, are you calling me a pussy? Seriously woman, you’re insulting my manhood here.”

She laughed loudly and I reveled in the sound. It was rich and full; filled with warmth. The sound was different than her delightful giggle and quiet voice. I liked hearing it. I wanted to be the one to make her laugh.

Grinning, I walked over and placed the mug back on the top of the fence. “But, I’d purr for you if there was another cup of your coffee,” I begged, enjoying teasing her.

My mug disappeared. After a few minutes, it reappeared, this time with the addition of a plate on top. Eagerly, I grabbed at it, almost giddy to find a toasted bagel with cream cheese waiting for me.

“Yes,” I hissed as I took a bite.

“Don’t get so excited, I was merely saving the fire department a trip. I think I’m actually scared of what you might do to a toaster.”

I took another bite, chewed, and made a semi-growling noise toward the fence.