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I wasn’t sure if I was mad about the invasion of privacy or appreciative of the help. I glanced over at the urn and shrugged my shoulders. “Guess I’ll go next door and find out what happened. Might slap him. Might kiss him.”
Aunt Maeve didn’t answer. Unless you counted the lusty wink, which seemed to urge me into the latter option.
It was late, but I figured I was owed some answers. I marched myself down the steps of the porch and across the row of shrubs to Dec’s house. His porch was devoid of potted plants and rocking chairs and basic personality. I let out a giggle when the thought of sneaking a plant over to liven things up hit my brain. Aunt Maeve’s house wouldn’t even notice a single plant missing. I raised my fist and rapped on the door.
I waited awhile, so long that I almost turned around and headed back to Aunt Maeve’s. The door opened with a whoosh—no sticky doorframes here—leaving me with an up-close view of Dec Boggs with a towel around his waist and not a damn thing else except a woven black leather cord around his neck.
The sight was so spectacular I risked opening my other eye. A single eye couldn’t possibly take in the spectacle of a half-naked Dec. His shoulders were broad and muscled, the tan skin tapering to a perfectly symmetrical chest and abs. He must wrestle a lot of fish on that boat of his based on the size of his muscles. But it was the tattoo on one arm that did me in. I’d been a good girl in college, dating the fraternity president and both dressing and behaving like the perfect wife even before that title was officially mine. I’d never told Justin, but tattoos were my kryptonite. Dec’s was elaborate and colorful and started midway up his forearm before climbing onto his shoulder. I didn’t want to stare, but I could trace that design of a jumping fish strumming a guitar with my tongue all day if he’d let me.
My gaze dropped to the top of the towel around his waist before I realized my mouth was hanging open. I blinked so hard I rocked back on my heels. “Hey, uh, I just wanted to…yeah.”
Dec kept one hand on the knot of the towel, but the other arm came up to rest on the doorframe. I looked behind me real quick, thinking perhaps I’d stumbled onto a male model photoshoot somehow and I was now blocking the photographer.
“Are you okay, sunshine?” Dec asked, leaning forward to assess my mental health.
I nodded excessively and tried a smile on for size. I didn’t want anyone assessing my mental stability at the moment. I was technically a married woman still, and even though my husband hadn’t had high standards as far as marital vows went, I did. I shouldn’t be standing here gawking at my barely clad next-door neighbor.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just wondering if you talked to Mel about my divorce?” I wiggled my phone in the air like that explained everything. “My accounts aren’t frozen any longer.”
Dec pushed off the doorframe and I appreciated the way his muscles bunched and flexed. “Give me a second.”
The door swung shut and I was alone on his porch, staring at a door knocker that looked like a whale tail. My one eye must have missed it when I first arrived. I looked left and right, just now realizing there were no other neighbors in sight on our street. Not until you took the slight bend and Aunt Maeve’s property line ended.
The door swung open again and Dec reappeared in gray sweatpants, bare feet, and in the middle of pulling a T-shirt over his head. His hair was longer on top, short on the sides, and currently a bit of a wet mess. Unlike me though, he looked hot with wet hair. I wasn’t sure if this outfit was any better than the last.
“Come on in.” He backed up and I followed him inside the house. He led the way straight to a set of sliding glass doors at the back of his house. My head was on a swivel, taking in Dec’s place. Unlike Maeve’s, his house was simple. Stark, even.
Dec gestured to a patio chair on the back deck that overlooked the water. “I was just about to crack open a bottle of wine. Let me grab two glasses.”
He was back in the house before I could beg off. Two alcoholic beverages in one night were more than plenty for me. Who knew what would come out of my mouth if I started in on the wine?
Rather than argue, I let him pour me a glass of red wine when he came back, curling it into my chest after he handed it to me. He sat in the other chair on the balcony, just a scant foot away from mine, placing the bottle on the wood floor with a clunk. Both of us looked out at the water, the lapping of the negligible waves against the sand almost mesmerizing. The moon shined down like a beacon on the water. An occasional splash came from somewhere in the dark. I chose to believe it was a fish or dolphin, not a shark.
“This is nice,” I whispered, wondering when the last time was that I’d just sat out in nature and relaxed. There wasn’t a whole lot of nature in San Francisco unless you sought it out, and even then, the drive through traffic to get there probably wasn’t worth it.
“You have the same view, sunshine.”
I tilted my head. “Haven’t made it out to the deck yet.”
“I called Mel. I apologize for not telling you, but in the shape you were in, I figured you could use the help.”
I winced, thinking about both shrieking at Dec and breaking down into tears. “I have had better days,” I finally admitted. “And though I prefer to have a say in my own personal matters, thank you for doing that.”
Dec nodded, putting his feet up on the deck railing. “What are you going to do with your newly released cash?”
I laughed, careful not to spill my wine. “I’ve been thinking about that actually. First order of business is paying you back for the hair. Next would be home remodeling. And finally, a car. I can’t keep riding that bike.”
It was Dec’s turn to laugh. “That rusted-out contraption Maeve kept on the side of the house because she was going to turn it into some sort of decorative plant holder?”
“Well, that makes a lot of sense. That thing rode like a bucket of screws over gravel. Did a number on my pants too.”
Dec took a sip of wine and studied me. I found I liked it when he did that. It wasn’t a sleazy once-over like I’d given him and it wasn’t like he found me odd. It felt more like he liked looking at me.
“A Ferrari?”
I sputtered, waving my glass of wine in the air. “No! But not a G-wagon either. Maybe a?—”
Something large and feathery hit my hand, sending my wine swinging. I yelped in surprise, barely managing to keep ahold of the glass. A healthy splash of wine was now seeping through the front of my T-shirt. I shook my fist at the seagull serenely gliding over the water in retreat like it hadn’t just dive-bombed me.
