Page 19 of Wrecked
Finally, she turned off the hose and dropped it to the ground. Gripping the front of her shirt she rung out the excess water, giving him an enticing glimpse of her smooth, rounded belly. She was walking back to the front of her house when she turned toward him, eyes locking with his.
“Goddammit.” He needed to move away from the window, now, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from her. He stayed where he was, watching until she disappeared into her house.
This was how the first week in his new apartment began. The week from hell. A week he aptly dubbed: Operation Piper fucks with Cole until he loses his goddamn mind.
* * *
Sunday - 11:16 a.m.
Cole sat back on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, and took a long pull of his beer, draining it. The game hit halftime so he climbed to his feet to get a refill. Grabbing one from the fridge, he twisted off the top.
The bottle was halfway to his mouth when music started up. Loud music.
He shook his head and stared at his feet.
Don’t do it. Do not look. Walk away. Walk away now.
The sound of Piper singing, loudly, drifted up to him, and before he knew what he was doing, he was at the kitchen sink, staring down at her. A growl rumbled from his chest, and he cursed repeatedly. The woman was barefoot, wearing pink cutoffs and a bikini top—a fucking bikini top—the scrap of orange fabric barely covered her lush tits. She was practically naked. Bucket in hand, she headed to her bright pink Corvette parked on the front lawn, and to his horror and voyeuristic delight, started soaping up its shiny surface, like she was in some ’80s rock video. Suds and water somehow ended up all over her. Her arms, her soft, rounded stomach, her breasts…breasts that had the ability to make a grown man cry. In fact, he thought he was pretty close to shedding a few tears himself.
He followed the bubbles as they slid over her stomach and her shapely thighs. “Jesus Christ.” He slammed down the bottle in his hand, causing it to foam up and overflow all over the bench. Closing his eyes, he prayed for salvation.
None came.
Forcing himself away from the window, he parked his ass back on the couch and tried to watch the rest of the game.
He had no idea who won.
* * *
Tuesday - 6:05 p.m.
Shoving his car door open, Cole headed for the stairs. He’d forgotten his workout gear when he left for work that morning, and if he missed a session at the gym his leg tended to act up, getting stiff, or at least stiffer than usual. He hit the first step when his phone rang.
Deke.
He put it to his ear. “Yeah.”
“Hey, can you do me a favor?”
He’d learned in the last few days he didn’t care much for Deke’s favors, not one goddamn bit. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been trying to call Pipe for the last hour. She left me a message, but now she’s not answering. Do you mind heading over to check on her?”
Yes, I fucking mind. He choked down his refusal and tightened his fingers around the phone. “Sure.”
“Thanks.”
They disconnected, and Cole headed across the parking lot toward Piper’s cottage. Her car was parked out front, so she had to be home. He knocked on the front door, but no one answered, so he walked around the side of the house to the backyard.
That’s where he found her. She was lying on a lounger, shades on, book loose in her fingers at her side. Head tilted, soft blond hair around her face and shoulders.
“Pipe?”
She didn’t answer, and he realized she was out cold, fast asleep.
Jesus.
Fucking beautiful.
