Flirting with Forever: A Hot Romantic Comedy(5)

Except now my column, Living Your Best Life, had been turned into a shell of what it had once been. Instead of writing about all sorts of things—female friendships, women’s empowerment, health and beauty, fashion, and yes, sex—April wanted me to keep finding new ways to give blow job instructions.

Sex sells, she’d say.

And she wasn’t wrong. But I was getting tired of it. As if the only professional value I had was in my ability to use the word “cock” without blushing.

I went out to the kitchen to grab something to drink. Although the house itself was older, most of the interior had been renovated. The kitchen was adorable, with white cabinets, light gray counters, and a gray tile floor. I got out a pitcher of iced tea, poured myself a glass, and wandered outside to get some fresh air.

My new bistro table and chairs set was adorable and fit perfectly on the cute front porch. Clouds drifted through the blue sky and the scent of freshly cut grass hung in the air. Phil from across the street was busy trimming the hedge in front of his house, using big shears to cut pieces of the plant, then stepping back to check his work. He noticed me and waved. I waved back.

This was nice.

My other neighbor—the grumpy tattooed one—pulled into his driveway. I’d seen him once or twice since move-in day, but only fleeting glimpses as he came and went. A teenage girl—probably twelve or thirteen—got out of the passenger side. According to Phil, who seemed to know everyone on our street, she was his daughter. I didn’t know what had happened to her mom, but I did know it was just the two of them.

Which made the grumpy one a single dad.

That shouldn’t have made him more intriguing. I wasn’t into dating single fathers any more than I was into dating men covered in tattoos. But for some reason, it did.

Not that my curiosity meant I was attracted to him.

Much.

He got out and headed straight for the front door. His daughter glanced in my direction. I lifted my hand in a wave, wiggling my fingers at her. She smiled back.

Her dad? Not so much. He ignored me and went inside, followed by his daughter.

The buzz of my phone turned my attention from my neighbors. The name on the screen made me pause. Landon. That was interesting.

Landon and I had dated a couple of years ago. For a time, he’d been perfect for me. I liked men who treated me well, could perform in the bedroom, and who preferred to keep things casual while still maintaining a certain level of monogamy while we were dating. Long-term commitment wasn’t for me, but neither was being one of many. I wasn’t going to sleep with a man who would turn around and shag some other woman the next day, and of course I’d offer him the same courtesy. Landon had fit the bill.

Until he hadn’t.

He’d wanted more than I had it in me to give. More commitment, to be precise. He’d started to get too attached, which was when my flight instinct had kicked into high gear, and the time had come to end it. All things considered, we’d parted amicably.

What did he want now? Another shot? Or just a hookup with a woman who’d once blown his mind?

Landon: Hey. Been a while. Just wanted to see how you’re doing.

Me: It has been a while. I’m doing fine. You?

Landon: I’m okay. Started a new job a few months ago. It’s good.

Me: That’s great. I just moved into a new house.

Landon: Awesome. I’d love to see it.

I eyed the screen, trying to read between the lines. Was he hoping for an invitation or just catching up?

Landon: Are you free tonight?

Me: Depends. What did you have in mind?

Landon: I’d love to see your new place.

My place? Well that answered that question. He was hoping for an invitation.

I pondered for a moment. Did I want him to come over tonight? We’d been good together, particularly physically. If I invited him here, I knew what I’d get out of it. I could do worse than a night of great sex. Well, good sex at least, let’s not be too generous. But good sex was better than none, right? It had been a while.

Still, the thought of sleeping with Landon wasn’t really appealing to me. No low swirl of warmth or pleasant tingle of pressure between my legs.

Me: Sorry, I don’t think so.

Landon: You sure? We could make it my place.

Me: I appreciate the offer but I don’t think it’s a good idea.

There was a long pause and I wondered how he’d take my rejection. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings—he was a decent guy—but I wasn’t going to let him talk me into something I didn’t want to do. Especially if that something involved taking my clothes off.

Landon: No worries. Figured I’d give it a shot. Take care.

Me: You too.

I put my phone down. That was that.

My body chose that moment to give me a little reminder of how long it had been since I’d taken my clothes off with a man. Longer than I would have liked. Sadly, the last person to touch my lady parts was my gynecologist at my last yearly appointment several months ago—even when you’re careful, it’s important to make sure you’re healthy. Still, I didn’t regret turning Landon down.

Grumpy tattooed guy came out of his house and that tingly reminder between my legs flared to life. A rush of heat flooded through me.

What was that about?

Sure, he was very masculine. What woman wouldn’t look at that broad chest and thick arms and experience a biological reaction? He looked like the sort of man you’d want to be with if the world ended and you needed a fierce protector to keep you alive. Like he could hot wire a car, hunt wild game for dinner, and keep you sexually satisfied with equal skill and confidence.