Page 42 of Dr. Brandt

I smiled. My neighbor, Linda, was always looking for an opportunity to get inside my house and, more specifically, my pants. Unfortunately for the lonely housewife, I liked my dick and balls right where they were. I didn’t need her workaholic husband ripping them off after finding out I’d been banging his neglected wife whenever I came to my beach house.

“I might just take that smile of yours as an invitation,” she pressed. She sounded buzzed, which was not a surprise.

“Sorry, Linda. I’m going to have to turn you down once again.” I took another sip of beer and laughed. She tossed her beautiful red hair over one of her porcelain shoulders, revealing that she’d stripped off her bikini top before we’d started this conversation. She’d probably been drunk before the sun had set tonight. “You might want to throw on a shirt. A patient of mine is coming over in a minute or two, and I’d like him to imagine that I have decent neighbors.”

“Him, huh?” she purred.

I would probably have to call the neighbor to my right to deal with Linda. Ruby Grantham was a sharp, no-bullshit elderly woman. She’d all but adopted me in the last few years, and this wouldn’t be the first time I’d used her to handle my horny-ass neighbor.

“Yeah, him,” I answered, agitated that Linda was drunk, half-naked, and oblivious to pick up on social cues. “He’s sixteen, and his mother will probably kick my ass, your ass, and some random stranger’s ass if she finds you out here, bouncing your tits around.”

“You’re no fun, Cammy,” she teased. “Why can’t you be a regular neurosurgeon, not a pediatric one? You should be inviting older, male patients to your scrumptious barbeques.”

“Tick-tock,” I ignored her ridiculous drunken remarks, not wanting to encourage anything else to come out of this woman’s mouth. “Seriously, please cover up.”

“Oh, Cammy,” she squealed, tap dancing on my last nerve. Her tits bounced all around while she giggled and put on a display for everyone walking on the beach on the other side of our terraces.

Glass surrounded her balcony, making any number of activities visible to anyone walking in front of her home.

With my bamboo privacy fence—which I was currently wishing was ten feet tall instead of four feet—I couldn’t see if this lady had exposed everything for the peaceful beach walking community or if it was just the bikini top that she’d stripped off.

“Oh, dear God.” I heard Jessa’s familiar voice from below and cringed. I wondered if I should duck and not reveal this was my place. I could call her and cancel or face the fact that my neighbor was a lunatic.

“Fucking hell,” I growled, then glared at Linda. “Clothes on, now!”

I turned off the barbecue burners and jogged down the back steps of my home. I met Jessa and the wide-eyed Jackson with a smile, hoping to distract from the eyeful they’d just received.

“Hey, Dr. Brandt,” Jackson politely acknowledged me, trying to shake the flush out of his cheeks caused by Linda’s tits.

“Hey, kid,” I said, covering my smile.

“Lovely neighbors,” Jessa said. But, unlike Jackson, she was not flushing, nor did she appear amused. “I hope we’re not too late?”

I narrowed my eyes at her unamused ones, “Not at all. In fact, I wish you were later and had also chosen not to look for the place from the beach. It seems that might’ve avoided a spectacle.”

“Well, it was a lovely night, perfect for a stroll on the beach. We figured we could find the place easily from here. Turns out, we did, thanks to your lovely neighbor alerting us to this place with her high beams.”

“High beams, huh?” I smiled at her and watched her cheeks flush red in response. “Well, she does seem pretty fucking high tonight.”

“And I’d tell you to watch your language, but your lovely neighbor has already stripped away the last shred of innocence my son once possessed.”

“If it helps, those high beams are just the result of botched plastic surgery.” That wasn’t exactly true. If I had to be honest, Linda’s rack must’ve cost her and the husband a fortune, not that he ever seemed to be around long enough to enjoy them. Linda was probably just trying to get her money’s worth by flashing them to anyone within eyeshot.

“How is that supposed to help?” she questioned while Jackson seemed amused.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re fake as hell, like looking at a naked barbie doll or something.”

“Fake as hell?” Jessa eyed me. I’d forgotten this look, her feisty, charming, yet challenging expression. She was so damn beautiful.

“Fake as hell,” I stated as if it were a well-known fact.

“They looked pretty real to me,” Jackson said, dodging his mom’s attempt to swat him playfully for his remark.

I burst into laughter. Damn, I loved this woman with all of her silly bullshit. The best part was that I could see in her ocean-blue eyes that she knew there was no point to this conversation.

“It’s not funny,” she said, arching her brow at me.

“It’s not. I apologize, and I’m going to be pissed if she ruined your appetites because the carne asada is done, and I’m ready to eat.”

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