Perfect Ten! - A Romance Super-Bundle

Our Neighbor’s A p**n Star!-2

“Why don't you let me be the judge of that? My father spent his entire life doing manual labor,” she lied. “I know how tough it is. Take this and buy something extra for your wife and kids for Christmas.”

“Gracias. I will. John! Achmed! Get over here! I have something for you two to put in your stockings!

“And if you ever need work done around the house, senora, let me know. I know all the best plumbers and carpenters and roofers in town. And I'll be sure to tell them you're a classy lady, so no one will try to cheat you.”

“Thanks.” She smiled again, then shivered dramatically as a gust of wind bent the leafless trees in the front yard. “You have a nice weekend and a wonderful holiday.”

“Thank you, senora.”

She went into the house, closing the heavy inside door behind her. As the loud noise of the truck faded away into the distance, she unzipped her coat, savoring the unusual silence. Except for the sound of the furnace, running at full blast to counteract the wintry weather, the only sound was the wind keening around the eaves.

She looked around. Chad James might be a horse's ass, but the house was exactly as he had described. It sat on a piece of sloping ground, the large backyard running down to a small creek, now frozen solid, at the rear of the property. The lower level of the house was actually partially underground, the earth serving as insulation to keep the heating bills down in the winter, and ironically, to keep the air-conditioning bills down in the summer. From the entranceway, a short flight of steps could either take her upstairs to the kitchen, living room, dining room, and the master bedroom and bathroom, or downstairs to a combination den/library, which also had a small half-bath and two guest bedrooms.

She sighed in relief, then smiled. Mine. All mine. No screaming neighbors in the apartment next door. No constant sound of traffic. No worrying about whether some creep is stalking you. No getting up at 5 AM to have some guy point a camera at your crotch while you pretend to like it.

She grinned, pulling off her coat and hanging it on a peg by the door. She kicked off her shoes, rolled up the sleeves of her sweatshirt, and climbed the stairs to the main floor. A pile of cardboard boxes met her gaze. She pulled a utility knife out of her pocket, slit the duct tape holding the first box closed, and began to unpack.

Mine.

*****

Barb Shroyer frowned as she pulled into her driveway. The lights in the old Swenson place were on, throwing golden patches of light onto the frost-seared grass of the front yard.

Damn that asshole to hell. I know real-estate is cutthroat, but you'd think he'd have some sense of shame.

Him? Hah.

With an effort, she threw off the spate of bad temper. Despite Chad James' underhanded methods, it was Barbara Shroyer and North Star Realty who were leading the housing market in Rapid City. Not the gold-plated pricks at Platinum Plots Real Estate.

Her smile faded as she entered the house. As usual, the lights were off, and the early winter darkness put the rooms in shadow. Muttering to herself, she flipped on the switches, bringing up the lights in the family room and hallway.

Walking down the hall, she paused for a moment to bang on the door-jamb of her son's bedroom. Even through the closed door, she could hear the music blaring from his headphones.

“Nathaniel? I'm home.” A longish pause. “Hello? Nate? Can you hear me?”

She opened the door warily. Her son sat in front of his computer, some sort of video game playing on the screen. Over his shoulder she could see pixelated monsters being blown into bloody rubble.

She hesitated before she entered. Over the past couple of years, Nate had become touchy about her entering his room without permission. She understood his feelings. With the two of them living by themselves following her divorce, their need for privacy had increased. Because they were forced to do more things together, the time they could spend alone had become more valuable, not less.

And she could understand how she might feel if Nate came barging into her room during an awkward moment. She wasn't too old to remember what it had been like to be eighteen.

Sighing, she pulled one of her gloves out of her coat pocket and balled it up, then threw it at her son's head. As it bounced off, he flinched violently in surprise, then twisted in his chair. With a quick flick of his fingers, he paused the game, then took off his headphones, rubbing his temple in mock-pain.

“Nice, Mom. Real nice.”

“Well, if you listened to that music of yours at a volume lower than 'jet engine,' maybe you'd hear me when I knocked on the door,” she smiled.

“Says the woman who listens to ABBA.”

“Careful, mister,” she said, shaking a finger at him. “You start making fun of Sweden's finest disco group, and we might have to throw down.” She balled up her fists and waved them threateningly.

“Right.” He stood, his tall, lanky form unfolding from his computer chair, and hugged her. “What's up?”

“I just got home. What do you want for supper?”

He shrugged carelessly. “Whatever you feel like making.”

“Okay. I'm going to change. I think we'll have leftovers from Thanksgiving.”

“Sweet!”

*****

“I thought we were having Thanksgiving leftovers,” her son commented an hour later. He looked at the soup quizzically.

“We are.” Barb took a sip of potato soup. “I chopped up some of the leftover turkey and put it in. I never thought I'd like this dehydrated stuff, but it does the job when you're in a hurry.”

“Oh, God. You wasted leftover turkey in soup?”

“Don't worry,” she replied tartly. “There's probably still ten or twelve pounds of it left. What in the world possessed you to get such a huge bird?”

Her son smiled crookedly. “Well, I figured there would be plenty left for late-night turkey sandwiches. And there would be,” he said darkly, “if someone didn't insist of putting it in soup.”

“Boo hoo.” She broke off a piece of garlic bread. “Did you see that we have a new neighbor?”

Nate shrugged. “Yeah. The car was in the driveway when I got home from hockey practice. I haven't seen anyone, though.”

“Hmm. And was there any interesting mail?”

Nate grinned, pulling two envelopes out of his back pocket. “Two more acceptances. From South Dakota State and North Dakota University.”

Barb smiled, catching the gleam of pride in his eyes. “No word yet from the University of Wyoming?”

He leaned back, snorting disgustedly. “Not yet. But I'm not worried. The message boards tell me that no one has gotten their letters yet.”

“Well, at least you have a couple of safety schools to fall back on. South Dakota State isn't too bad, you know. Your father went there.”

“Which is one more reason for me not to go.” Her son's usually mild blue eyes were stormy.

“Hmmm.” She kept her opinion about Ray to herself. There was no need to further estrange father and son. Not when her ex was doing such a good job of it on his own. “Are you sure about the University of Wyoming, though, honey? I mean, it's not exactly convenient. It must be close to three hundred miles. Can you imagine driving home for winter break?”

“And Brookings is nearly four hundred,” he countered, naming the town where SDSU was located. His spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl and he ladled more soup into it. “It's nearly in Iowa, for crying out loud. And can you imagine driving six hours on Interstate 90 in December?”

Barb gave a theatrical shudder. Even she, born and bred in the state, wasn't going to try to defend the mind-numbing tedium of driving through it.

“Besides, Wyoming has a really good College of Business. Maybe by the time I graduate, you'll be ready to hand over the keys to the family business.”

“Really? You do realize that I'm only forty-one, don't you, Nathaniel? I'm not quite decrepit just yet. And more than one man has expressed an interest in your mom's body since your dad skipped town.”

He grinned unrepentantly, ignoring the reference to his father. “Mom, you're hotter than Sofia Vergara walking naked through a five-alarm fire. But you're going to have to retire sooner or later. Once I get my degree from the U of W, it might make sense to hire me.” His eyes softened. “Then you can slow down a bit, and enjoy yourself. You deserve it, after all you've done over the past few years.”

Barbara blinked, her eyes misting with sudden tears. It was unusual for Nate to be speak so openly of what they had gone through following her divorce from Ray. For the most part, he treated her with the sort of teasing affection which reminded her of her relationship with her older brother, on those rare occasions when she and Jess were able to get together. In return, sensing his discomfort with overt displays of love, she treated him like she would a particularly dim-witted puppy, which rarely failed to make him smile.

It was all Ray's fault, damn him to hell. Barb wouldn't pretend that they had a perfect life together, but it had been good enough. They both had good jobs; her with North Star Realty, Ray with a local bank as a loan officer. The house was all that they would need and a little more. Nate was a good son and showed every indication of growing up to be a successful young man, though she was quietly disappointed Ray and herself hadn't had more children. Even their s*x life, while somewhat vanilla, hadn't gone through that mid-life cooling that some of her married fiends complained about.

She grimaced. In fact, s*x was what had caused the divorce. Barb had suspected from a young age that her desires weren't quite in tune with those of most of her classmates. As she grew older, those desires had become more pronounced.

She hadn't cheated on Ray. She had never even considered it. When she took her wedding vows, she meant to keep them. But when she confessed her curiosity to him one night while Nate was away at a middle-school hockey tournament, the result had been a blow-up of epic proportions. Her husband's savagely conservative upbringing couldn't accept the fact that his wife might have needs he couldn't satisfy. After a long, bitter argument, he had packed a suitcase and left the house, never to return. A few weeks later he had moved out of the state entirely, eventually settling in Nebraska. He had never missed a child-support check, but he had also made it completely clear that he wanted nothing more to do with either of them.

Hurt, angry, and confused, she had hidden nothing from Nate when he returned home. He had been fourteen years old, and she had thought he was old enough to understand. Luckily, he was. His anger had been reserved solely for his father. Even as an eighth-grader he had a sense of justice that hadn't been fooled by Ray's feeble attempts to explain away his actions. Together the two of them had forged a new life together.

Barbara blinked as she came back to herself. Jeez, Shroyer. Melodramatic much? “Well, maybe,” she said, answering Nate. “But that's in the future. Right now we have to concentrate on the present.”

She stood up. “Which reminds me. Even though that slimeball James stole that listing from me, it's not the fault of our new neighbors. We should welcome them properly to the neighborhood. I'm going to make up a tray of leftovers, and you can take it over to them. Nothing like a little South Dakota friendliness to make a family feel at home.”