Attempting to not think about Tripp was a bit of a struggle for the rest of the afternoon…or if Beth was being totally honest with herself, a massive struggle. It didn’t help in the slightest that the doctor’s office was ridiculously slow, so there was pretty much nothing to distract her from picturing his smile…from hearing his deep voice…the way he’d looked at her as he’d told her sweets were his weakness…how he’d looked at her as if she were a sweet.
She’d read that correctly. Hadn’t she?
And to add fuel to the flames—her flames—he smelled better than any other man. How was that even possible? Well, that was a question she was pretty sure she’d never really work out the answer to…in fact there were a whole list of questions.
Like, how was it that she’d found his pie stealing sexy? He’d purposely tried to antagonize her and a move like that shouldn’t have been so damn attractive…yet it was. Apparently she was reverting back to kindergarten and liking the boy on the playground who pulled her hair.
Though if Beth were being honest with herself she did like her hair pulled a little; it just wasn’t on the playground…
When four o’clock rolled around, and Beth was given the opportunity to go home early, she got out of the office like her ass was on fire. The second she was in the car the radio was turned up and the windows rolled down. What she’d needed more than anything were those few minutes with the music too loud to think and fresh air blowing in her face.
Maybe that would clear the glorious scent of Tripp out of her head…yeah, not possible. It was imprinted on her brain. Permanently.
When she pulled into the driveway she looked over toward Tripp’s house. Holy crap, what in the world was she going to do about this whole situation? Well, as the driveway was empty and he was most likely still at work, she didn’t need to worry about it at the moment. She’d have some time before she saw him again…time to figure this out.
Now Beth wasn’t a “bury her head in the sand” type of girl. But this thing—that she wasn’t sure if she was making into a thing all on her own—with Tripp was a whole different ball game. She hadn’t worked any of it out yet…and she really needed to discuss it with someone.
As she got out of the SUV and headed for the house, she was beyond thankful that she was going to have an opportunity that very evening. A few of her friends were coming over and they’d be more than willing to talk. And as it was a Friday night—and no one had to go to work the following morning—there would be plenty of wine involved.
Yeah, that would be good. They could give her plenty of perspective on the situation, especially as every single one of them was married. They’d all gotten a man and kept the man.
Not that Beth wanted to get or keep Tripp.
No, no, no…that was a ridiculous thought…a thought that rolled around in her brain as she opened the front door and stepped inside the house…the very, very quiet house.
Well, that couldn’t be right. Nora always had the TV on, or music blasting, or was chattering on the phone…or a combination of the three.
Beth dropped her purse on the center island in the kitchen and headed toward the empty living room. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something white move in the backyard and she turned to get a better look.
The sight that greeted her made her groan.
She’d found her niece and nephew, all right. Nora was laying in the hammock with a book in her hands and headphones stuck in her ears while Grant was laying out on the lawn…or more accurately, he was laying on Duke. The dog was stretched out, his big tail wagging back and forth in the air.
Grant was reading, too, a book balanced on his knees, and his lips moved as he presumably read aloud to Duke. The icing on the cake of the whole scene? In between page turns, Grant was dipping a spoon into a jar of peanut butter. One scoop for him…the other scoop for Duke, whose long pink tongue darted out to lick the spoon clean before it was dunked back into the container.
It was the exact same jar of peanut butter that Beth used on her bananas every morning.
She headed for the back door and the puzzle pieces started to come together. With each step that she took another one fell into place, until the whole picture was clearly laid out.
All of it…every single issue…every little hiccup…every little annoyance and aggravation…every single problem that had happened since Tripp had moved in, had been caused by her kids: Nora sneaking into his backyard to use his hot tub, the flat tires from Penny’s toys, Grant with the peanut butter…and now this. The dog had been the only card she’d had…and yes, she and her neighbor were on perfectly okay terms now—they were apparently flirting with each other over pie—but…but she’d been awful to him before that…and he hadn’t done anything wrong. Nor, would it appear, had the dog.
Now Beth wasn’t above admitting when she was wrong…but this was sooo beyond that. This was a whole other level of wrong that she’d never experienced, and she was going to have to tell Tripp.
Well, so much for a truce.
She had to conjure up more than a little restraint as she reached for the door handle. Every part of her wanted to wrench it open and start screaming. Somehow she pulled herself together.
The second Beth stepped outside Nora sat up abruptly, causing the hammock to sway. “You’re not supposed to be home for another hour.”
“You’re supposed to be watching your brother,” Beth waved beyond the screened-in porch, glancing over at Grant and Duke.
Grant was sitting up now, his little face filled with horror as he looked at Beth. Duke stretched his large body, moving his head forward so he could give Grant’s cheek a sloppy lick.
“I am watching him.” Nora’s indignant voice pulled Beth’s gaze back to her niece, now out of the hammock and standing.
“This is watching him?” Beth asked, miraculously keeping her voice level. “Nora, he stole Tripp’s dog.”
“Tripp isn’t even home. What’s the harm in it?”
And there went the miracle of the level quality of Beth’s voice. “What’s the harm in it?! It’s. Not. Our. Dog. That’s the harm. What if something happened?”
“I’m right here! He’s not even twenty feet away from me!”
“A lot of good that’s doing! Is it really that difficult to take care of your brother? It’s three hours, five days a week. You’re seventeen, Nora. I don’t think this is a lot to ask of you!”
“What the hell do you know?!” Nora shouted so loudly that Duke started barking.
“Excuse me?”
“You have no idea what I deal with everyday. No idea what you ask of me. I get that your part of the dead mothers club—”
Beth couldn’t stop herself from flinching at those words. How could she not when Nora pretty much flung them at her?
“—but don’t even act like you know what it’s like to lose both of your parents. Don’t even act like you know what it’s like to have a younger brother and sister that you have no freaking clue how to help because you’re going through the same shit. Grant had another bad day at school. Came home crying because some little asshole in his class was calling him an orphan—”
Beth flinched again at orphan.
“He wanted to play with the dog. Of course I said yes, and I don’t care if you have a problem with it. Or if it causes issues with the neighbor. You can deal with it. You can also be the one to tell him no.” Nora pointed out to the yard. “Because it isn’t going to be me.”
And with that Nora walked into the house, making sure to slam the door behind her.
Beth closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples. Well, that had just been absolutely perfect.
A soft sniffle filled the air behind her. She turned and opened her eyes. Grant was standing on the other side of the screened-in door, looking at her with tears streaming down his cheeks. Duke was at Grant’s side, whining as he pressed his massive body up against the little boy.
“Am I in trouble?” Grant asked with a slight quaver to his voice.
Beth pushed open the screen door and crossed the few feet to her nephew. She knelt down in front of him, reaching up and running her fingers under his eyes.
“You aren’t in trouble, Goose. But we need to talk about this. It’s not okay to take Mr. Tripp’s dog out of his yard,” she said, looking over at Duke.
The dog moved forward, whining again as he gently butted his head against Beth’s chest. Without thinking about it, she reached up and scratched his furry neck. His tongue lolled out and his warm peanut butter breath hit Beth in the face.
Lovely.
She looked back to her nephew, who was running his hand along Duke’s back. “But I only ever do it when Mr. Tripp isn’t home…or in the mornings when I’m pretty sure he’s sleeping. I’m just borrowing Duke.”
“Grant, we’ve talked about this before. You can’t borrow someone else’s things without their knowledge. It’s not okay even if you do bring him back.”
Something Grant had failed to do, as Duke had been left in their backyard on numerous occasions.
“So I…” He sniffled hard as more tears escaped. His eyes somehow looked even greener when he was crying. “So I can’t play with him anymore?”
“Buddy, that isn’t a decision for me to make. I’ll talk to Mr. Tripp, but if he says no—” which he would be totally justified to do under normal circumstances…and even more justified to do now that all of the facts were out…Grant stealing his dog and all, “—then the answer is no. And you’re going to have to listen to that.”
Now his little lip was trembling. “B-b-but he’s my best friend.”
“Oh Grant, come here.” Beth pulled the now sobbing boy into her arms as he lost it. He was breaking her heart. How in the world was she supposed to deal with this?
She looked over Grant’s shoulder at Duke. The dog was now nudging his head under Grant’s arm in an attempt to get closer. Apparently the attachment wasn’t one-sided.
This was going to be beyond complicated.
* * *
Normally Tripp was home sometime between five and six, but that night he didn’t pull into his driveway until just before seven. Because of that day’s mountain of paperwork, he’d finished up at the department a little later than usual. He hated the paperwork part of the job.
Hated it.
At least he’d already had dinner, a massive bowl of shrimp étouffée over steaming rice. He’d eaten while finishing up, and his full stomach had done a pretty good job at making the task way more tolerable. But good food wasn’t the main reason he’d been able to push through. Nope, that belonged to Beth.
Five minutes with her at that diner and he was good to go for the rest of the day. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling every damn time he thought about her shocked expression when he’d taken that plate right out of her hands. He also couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how her mouth had wrapped around that fork as she’d eaten the pie.
She was sexy as hell, even when she was taunting him…probably sexier because she was taunting him.
And look at that, he was smiling again.
As he walked up the path to the front door his gaze traveled next door. She’d been a complication ever since he’d moved into his house. And now? Well, she was a complication of an entirely different sort.
What sort? He wasn’t sure yet, but he’d bet good money he was going to find out. It was just a matter of time before his “rules” were broken. Something he was oddly fine with.
Or maybe it wasn’t that odd at all.
He turned back to the front door, fitting the key in the lock and flipping the bolt. The second he walked into his house Duke was there, fluffy tail wagging and paws clipping against the hardwood as he danced around. He barked a few times in greeting before he rubbed his massive body against Tripp’s legs.
“Hey buddy,” he said as he dropped the keys on the side table and bent down, giving the dog a good body scratch.
Duke sat back on his haunches, closing his eyes as his tongue lolled out of his mouth. When Tripp got to the dog’s chest, Duke leaned to the side while his back paw started to beat out a rhythm against the floor.
It was a minute before Tripp stopped and Duke immediately cracked one eye open, giving him a why you stop look.
“Dinner?”
Both of Duke’s eyes were now wide open and he took off down the hall.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Tripp stood and followed the dog to the kitchen.
He had about thirty minutes to feed Duke and get changed before he needed to be out the door again. He was heading over to the Sleepy Sheep to watch a hockey game with some of the guys. He felt a little bad about leaving Duke on his own for another couple of hours, but it was lessened because Finn was going to drop off Frankie before they left.
Duke was sitting in front of his empty food bowl, his tail sweeping back and forth across the floor as he waited for his dinner. Tripp opened the pantry and flipped up the plastic top of the massive Tupperware container that sat on the floor. He filled the plastic cup to the top before he tipped it into the bowl.
Duke looked between the bowl and Tripp, waiting for permission. See, the dog had learned a few things.
Tripp nodded and Duke turned back to his bowl before lunging at it like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. One thing his dog wasn’t was underfed; that was for damn sure.
Leaving the dog with his dinner, Tripp headed to his bedroom. He had just enough time to get in a quick shower so he stripped down, throwing his clothes in the hamper. The warm steady spray of the water across his muscles made him groan. There hadn’t been any calls that day, so he hadn’t done anything too strenuous, but the last couple of weeks had pushed him.
He was probably going to spend a good amount of his time off in his hot tub. He’d be in it right now if he hadn’t promised his friends he’d go out for a drink and watch the game.
Five minutes under the glorious heat was too short, but he forced himself to get out and dry off. He threw the towel into the overflowing hamper—making a mental note that he needed to do laundry at some point—before he headed into his room. Crossing over to the dresser, he pulled open the bottom drawer to find only one pair of clean jeans. He really needed to do laundry soon.
Duke trotted in, his nails clipping against the hardwood floor as he went over to his doggy bed in the corner and fell down with a muffled flump. He was asleep within a minute.
“Must be hard.” Tripp shook his head as he pulled on his pants.
The doorbell echoed through the house, rousing Duke immediately. He was off the bed and running through the room within an instant. Tripp grabbed a clean shirt from his dwindling stack, pulled it over his head, and headed through the house.
He peaked through the peephole, thinking he’d find Finn on the other side, a few minutes earlier than expected. But nope, it was Beth…holding something in her hands. He grabbed Duke’s collar before he opened the door and when Beth came into view he saw that she held a pie.
Oddly enough—or maybe not so oddly—the pie was the thing he was least interested in. He was way more intrigued by what she was wearing: a white T-shirt and what was quickly becoming his favorite pair of jeans. How could they not draw his attention when they molded to her body the way they did?
“Long time no see,” he said when his eyes landed on hers.
She shifted, taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “Do you have a minute?”
She was nervous? Why? She hadn’t been earlier at the diner…she’d been flirty. What had happened since then?
“For you? I have many minutes. Even more than that, considering what’s in your hands.”
“Is that so?”
“Well, I have a feeling this is going to be very interesting.” He grinned.
“And why is that?”
“Because every time you show up on my doorstep something interesting happens. Come in.” He stepped away from the threshold, holding the door wide and keeping Duke restrained by his side.
Beth walked past him, bringing with her that scent of baked goods that drove him out of his fucking mind. Today it was accompanied with something tart…
His dick twitched. He was going to need to take another shower, this one very, very cold.
Get it together, man.
He shut the front door before he let go of Duke. The dog trotted off after Beth, clearly more interested in her.
I get it, buddy. I get it.
Tripp followed, stepping into the kitchen as Beth set the pie on the counter. When her hands were free she moved her attention to Duke, who was sniffing around her.
“Hey, Duke.” She bent forward toward the dog, her blond hair falling from her shoulders. Her hands were on the dog’s head; she scratched his scalp before moving down to his neck and across his back.
Tripp pressed his hip against the counter as he watched them. “Well, that’s new. You two make up?”
Beth looked up, still giving her hands-on attention to Duke. “You could say that.”
“So what kind of pie did you make me?”
“Cherry.”
Cherries. That was what she smelled like. Sweet, tart cherries…and sugar…and vanilla…and goodness.
“And what’s the occasion?”
She gave Duke one last scratch before she straightened. “My nephew has been stealing your dog.”
Tripp pushed off the counter. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“You know all of those times Duke was in my backyard wreaking havoc?”
“They’re a little hard to forget.”
“Well, as it turns out, it was Grant letting Duke back there. Usually when you were asleep or not home.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes. So really every single problem that we’ve had since you moved in has been the fault of my kids. And every time I yelled at you”—she gestured to Tripp—“or complained about Duke”—she gestured to the dog—“or called either of you names”—she shifted on her feet, her gaze not leaving his—“I was totally and completely out of line. And I’m sorry. Really sorry. I told Grant he wasn’t allowed to take Duke anymore, and that he needs to apologize to you as well.”
“So is that what that is?” he asked, gesturing to the pie. “Apology Pie?”
“Yes.”
“And Apology Pie is cherry flavored?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “It was between that and Humble Pie.”
That had him laughing. “Which is?”
“Triple berry. I had raspberries and blueberries but no blackberries.”
“I like cherry. How did you figure out it wasn’t Duke’s fault?” he asked, more than slightly curious at this new turn of events.
“I came home early today. Grant was in the backyard with Duke reading him a book…and feeding him peanut butter.”
“So Grant is the peanut butter culprit?” Tripp couldn’t stop the disgusted grimace from taking over his face. His dislike of the stuff was really that strong.
“He sure is.” She frowned. “And he was feeding it to Duke straight from the jar that I use every day. Dipping the spoon in and letting him lick it clean before repeating the process.”
“So you’ve been sharing peanut butter with my dog?” He laughed; he couldn’t help it.
“You keep that up”—she pointed at his massive grin—“and I’m taking my Apology Pie back.” She made a move to grab it, but Tripp stepped in front of her, blocking her path. They were only inches apart and she had to look up to see his face.
Something shifted in her expression. Her eyes dilated and a flush of color darkened her cheeks. Apparently she wasn’t the only one affected by their proximity.
He moved just a little bit closer, his eyes holding hers. “You can’t take back pie, Beth. That’s a hard and fast rule.”
“You and these rules…I think you’re just making them up as you go.” Her voice had taken on a husky tone.
“Nope, it’s in the book, too.” He moved his hands to her waist and the second he touched her she inhaled unsteadily. “So is this how it’s going to work with this whole neighbor thing? You continually making me baked goods when something happens…or you wanting something?”
“Yes.” The word came across her lips on a whisper.
He moved his hands, one skimming across her hip and around to her back to pull her closer. She was flush up against him now and it was perfection.
Per-fucking-fection.
His other hand reached up and cradled the side of her face, his thumb skimming her cheek. “So, what? You need a favor and you make me a cobbler?”
“No.” She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. “For favors you get fudge.”
“On what occasion do I get cake?” He lowered his head, skimming his nose across her jaw and moving lower.
“Birthdays.” And now she was touching him, too, her hands at his sides fisting in the fabric of his shirt.
“Well, in that case, mine is October nineteenth.”
“I’ll make sure to, uh, remember that.” She moved her head to the side, providing him greater access to just where he wanted to be.
He placed an open-mouth kiss on her neck, the taste of her skin so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. Another thing he couldn’t have come close to imagining? The sound of her needy little gasps filling his ears. He pulled back, moving his hand to the back of her head, his fingers spearing through her hair.
“How does this system work for other things?” he asked.
“What other things?” she asked breathlessly.
“What’s the trade-off for a kiss?”
She shook her head slightly, glancing at his mouth for just a second before she looked back up. “You can’t barter a kiss, Tripp.”
“You’re right. Kisses are meant to be stolen.”
“That in your rule book, too?”
“Sure is.” And with that his mouth covered hers.