The Player Next Door: A Novel by K.A. Tucker

Author:K.A. Tucker
Language: eng
Format: epub

Twenty

Shane’s front door creaks open at seven on Sunday morning, as I’m digging a particularly stubborn weed from my garden bed. Memories of yesterday are still firmly emblazoned in my mind, so when I look up to see him standing on his front porch in navy track pants, running shoes, and nothing else, my heart rate goes from zero to sixty in a blink.

He trots down his steps and heads toward me, his chiseled arms lifting over his head in a series of warm-up stretches. It’s the perfect day for a run, the sky clear, the temperature comfortably crisp. It reminds me that I haven’t gone for one since I moved here, this house swallowing up my time and energy. I’ll need to start again soon and get myself into a routine.

For now, though, I just need to keep my wits about me.

Shane comes to a stop on the other side of my picket fence to loom over me. “You’re up early on a Sunday.”

“Wanted to get a head start on the day.” The truth is I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned half the night, thoughts of my neighbor keeping my body wired with need and my mind spinning with wandering thoughts. “Isn’t it a little early for you, though?” Those twenty-four-hour shifts must be deadly for his internal clock.

“Cody and I have a busy day ahead of us. We always visit my parents on Sundays when I’m not working. I wanted to get a run in before he wakes up.” He grabs an ankle and pulls it behind to loosen his hamstrings.

And I do my best not to notice his sculpted abdominal muscles, or how his pants hang low on his hips, or the deep, muscular V that begs to direct my attention south to the notable bulge tucked inside.

God, how I love track pants for the lack of modesty they afford.

He catches me staring at his crotch, and his full lips curve into a knowing smirk. Those lips that were buried between my thighs yesterday afternoon.

How are we supposed to act around each other now?

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, as if reading my mind.

I shove the hand trowel deep into the soil, severing the weed’s root. “About you helping me paint my room?”

He chuckles. “That’s honestly all I intended to happen when I came over.”

“Uh-huh.” I give him a doubtful look. “I thought we agreed to take things slow.”

His hands go up in surrender. “Hey, you’re the one who flashed me.” His voice has dropped to a low timbre. I feel it in my chest.

“That was an accident.”

“Uh-huh,” he parrots.

I laugh and toss a weed at him. “Shut up.”

He catches it in the air and leans over to drop it into the yard waste bag.

And I stare shamelessly at his naked chest.

“You don’t regret it, do you?”

“No.” Though it’s going to make a simple kiss good night seem laughable going forward.

“Good.” A secretive smile touches his lips. “So, Tuesday night, two old friends

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