Page 15 of Noble Neighbor
“That’s because he lets you eat ice cream till you get sick. Uncle Aleck said bad words when Mommy made him clean up. To teach him a lesson.” Kenzie looked him in the eye. “Have you learned your lesson, Mr. Oliver?”
The serious tone of her question ripped his heart wide open, and Kenzie Jones walked into the gap, taking hold of a piece.“Yes, Kenzie. I’ve learned my lesson. No more running without water.” Oliver shifted his gaze to the younger girl. She, too, had dug right in and made herself at home. “I promise.”
Molly giggled. “You made Mommy say a bad word when you pulled the washing down, Mr. Oliver.”
“Giving away my secrets, Molly?”
Oliver lifted his head and raked his gaze over the woman standing before him, a laundry basket clutched protectively to her torso. Dappled sun danced around her and a bashful smile pulled at her lips. It wasn’t a provocative image, but it sucker-punched the wind right out of him.
Sunny Jones was hot on the heels of her daughters in becoming important to him, and Oliver wasn’t sure what to think about the development.
5
Ladders and heights
He needed to decide, and soon, but he was reluctant to let go of his anonymity. If he agreed to the publisher’s demands — they were pushing for a tour to coincide with the release of his fourth book — he could kiss goodbye the peace and quiet of the life he’d rebuilt for him and Clement.
A tour meant publicity, in-person signings and appearances,and it wouldn’t take long for someone to recognizeA. C. Strong as Oliver Armstrong and his connection to Christie.
He slapped a hand against the steering wheel. And once the publisher knew, they would use Christie’s death as a marketing tool. Even his agent wouldn’t have the power to stop them.
In no way was he exploiting his wife’s death.
The other option was to go indie. That way he’d be in control of the entire process. Or he could pack it in, find something else to do. Beau would welcome him in the sheriff’s department. But, in all honesty, heloved crafting stories and would be reluctant to abandon his writing.He slowed, turning onto Chicory Lane.
And thought of Sunny.
He’d interacted with her a few times since his unfortunate run, rooting his attraction.
The pulled pork recipe his old man had tried needed additional tasters, and the Jones girls came for dinner. The evening had been filled with fun and games.
And laughter. Sunny had the most amazing laugh — full-bodied, emitting from deep within — and Oliver wouldn’t mind hearing it every day.
At the barbeque Sunday last, Sunny had worn cut-off denim shorts — they’d done nothing to hide her mighty fine legs, and he kept catching glimpses of that colorful tattoo peeping out from the ragged left hem — and a flowing halter top revealing adeepcleavage.
He’d salivated more over his delectable neighbor than the succulent steak and excused himself as soon as he’d eaten, retreating to the privacy of his office.
And written the first love scene between Dirk and his new partner.
And then,he thought with a weary sigh,there was the waterhole incident.
Last Friday — the thirteenth — had been a scorcher of a day, and Clement had been with the Jones girls. It had been early afternoon when Oliver got the call.
“Dad,” Clement said, “can you come fetch me? We’re at the pond. Kenz and Mols helped me collect driftwood. I’ve got a humongous pile— Hold on a sec.What?” Clement’s voice faded with that last word, followed by indistinct chatter, then, “Okay. I’ll ask. Dad?” His son was back. “Sunny says you’re welcome to come cool off.”
Lamb to slaughter, moth to flame, spider to fly. Pick the idiom, he’d donned his trunks, climbed in his truck, and lumbered over the ungraded path across thefarm to the pond. Formed by a bend in the creek runningnear the edge of Sunny’s property and shaded by varioustrees growing along its banks, it was a cool haven on the blistering summer’s day.
Not that his body cooled. Not even in the invigoratingwater. No siree.
Because he got a front-page, mind-blowing, blood-boiling view of Sunny Jones in a sleek navy bathing suit. It wasn’t skimpy. Not at all. But the material hugged every delectable curve of her luscious body, and his imagination took over, filling in the finer details.
And he got a good look at her tattoo exposed by the high-cut costume. The colorful lotus flower with two hovering dragonflies covering Sunny’s left hip and upper thigh was spectacular.
Oliver imagined running his hands, his lips, over it, and spent the next while in deep water, willing his erection away
And, of course, he’d dreamed of her that night.
Yes,thattype of dream. He’d woken, cock in hand, imagining it was Sunny’s palm and fingers wrapped around it.
