Stalk Me Now - Page 2

I wander up to the guest bedroom, wanting to see where I will be sleeping this summer. Leanne told me via text that it was the second master. I had no idea homes had two master suites, but I will take this massive king-size bed, walk-in closet, and double-head shower. I take a photo of the bathroom and text my mother.

Me: Thanks again for telling Leanne I was trustworthy. This place is amazing!

Mom: Great honey. Now you can focus on your painting. I believe in you.

Smiling, I tuck the phone in the back pocket of my cutoff jean shorts, and make a last visit to the car to make sure that I’ve got everything and that it’s locked up, humming a little tune to myself as I go. I drop my bag of clothes as I stumble over my bare feet on the concrete drive, but quickly scoop it back up, laughing at my clumsiness. Nothing is going to sour my mood today.

I can’t remember the last time that I felt this happy, felt this alive, felt as though everything was falling into place for me. I can’t wait to see the stuff I create while I’m here; I’ve had a few ideas of pieces I want to work on, but I haven’t had the mental –or physical – space to tease them out.

I rummage through the drawers in the enormous, open-plan kitchen looking for a takeout menu – turns out that Leanne doesn’t keep any around. Probably because she has a live-in chef here most of the time, anyway. I pull out my phone and locate a local Vietnamese place that looks good to me. I’m looking forward to having the chance to cook in here, but right now, I want to veg out on the couch with some noodles and revel in the quiet around me.

I glance out of the window once I’ve put in my order, wondering how I am going to see the delivery driver arrive from all the way out here – but instead of the food, I find myself focused on the man who has just emerged from a car at the bottom of the driveway next door. He glances over to my car in surprise, and grins to himself as he heads to the house. I wish I was outside, so we could meet, but I’m not going to run out there now like a weirdo. His salt-and-pepper hair and knowing eyes tell me he has plenty of experience in life. He’s tall, broad shouldered, wearing work-out clothes and carrying a water bottle.

He’s sexy. Really sexy, actually. The kind of sexy that gets under your skin and inside your head even when you know it’s not meant to. He’s got hair cropped short to show off his angular features, strong jaw, steady eyes. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as I watch the neighbor heading up the driveway, pulling open his front door.

And I know that this summer has just gotten a hell of a lot more interesting.

2

GAGE

As I walk to my mail box, I can’t stop staring at the lime green bikini top that is next to the passenger door. Dropped or forgotten. I want to walk over and grab it, but it’s not my property.

Still. That triangle top has me curious.

Beyond that, nobody around here drives a beat-up car like that. Even the workers who come by to do gardens and mechanical shit don’t – they have big trucks. Anyone who’s turning up in a vehicle like that one clearly hasn’t spent a lot of time in neighborhoods like this. And I have to admit, there’s a part of me that’s intrigued to find out what else is going on here.

Leanne is away for a while, though I’m not sure to where – I guess she’s got someone to keep an eye on the house for her while she’s out of town. But who? And the lime green bikini top must belong to the owner of whoever is staying there. That is a hell of an intriguing prospect to me right now.

I pour myself a drink in the kitchen and keep my eyes pinned on the car outside, waiting for whoever owns it to come out again – and sure enough, it doesn’t take long till she shows her face.

It’s a woman, quite a lot younger than me. She has blonde hair and eyes so blue that I can see them from all the way over here. She’s wearing a cropped tee and some high waisted tight and tiny jean shorts, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail at the top of her head, barefoot as she comes down the path, a pair of glasses tucked into the V of her shirt. My eyes linger on her big tits, bouncing as she walks.

Tags: Frankie Love Billionaire Romance
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