Page 4 of Beards and Holly

Jenson gives the mutt a few friendly pets before the dog gets back on all fours.

“He was already here when I got home. The only thing I could think of is, he used the old doggy door I thought was boarded up.”

Still, he only scowls at me as if I’m a crazy person. “I swear I didn’t kidnap your dog. He just loves me more,” I add with a smile, attempting to lighten the mood.

To my utter surprise, the Grinch actually cracks a smile and laughs. It’s not a belly-shaking laugh, but I’ll take it.

“Must be all the holiday spirit and homemade treats. The poor guy didn’t stand a chance.”

His words are such a contrast to what I’d expected I smile like a loon. It’s not as if the man has declared he suddenly doesn’t hate me, but I feel like it.

“Anyway, I’m just glad he was here and not lying under a car somewhere. So thanks. Have a good night, Holly.”

He knows my name. I watch speechless for a while as the two descend my porch steps then realize I didn’t say anything.

“Good night, Jenson.”

Something about the way he falters the last step makes me think he’s just as surprised by my words, but of course, he doesn’t say anything. The pair continues into the dark, and I assume back home. I turn inside my now quiet house and wish they’d stayed. I mean, I wish Gizmo had stayed. The awesome pup made my night more fun. I’m not thinking about his owner. That would be a terrible idea, a real crash-and-be-badly-brokenhearted situation.

Even telling myself this doesn’t help me to stop thinking about the plaid-wearing hottie next door. I sip my tea and turn onA Christmas Storyto relax. My comfort holiday movie usually distracts me from my problems, but tonight, my mindswirls with work drama and sexy, unwanted fantasies of someone I don’t want a crush on.

There’s no doubt in my mind there’s more to Jenson than the cold exterior he presents. I bet he’s a big cinnamon roll inside. All warm and mushy. The thought of food has my mind thinking about his taste and what he sounds like in bed, torturing myself for hours. I telling myself to stop, but then think about it all over again.

Finally, I head to bed, and without thinking twice, I look out my window to his. The blinds are still open, and his lights are still on. Gizmo is sleeping soundly on Jenson’s big, king-size bed. The master bathroom door is open, and before I can turn away, out walks my neighbor in just a towel.

He deserves privacy, and I need to turn away to give it to him. So why am I still stuck, staring at his defined abs and the light layer of dark chest hair that runs down.

“Fuck.”

As my eyes descend, I don’t notice he’s walked to the window and is staring at me. I’ve never felt such instant embarrassment, and as the true coward I am, I duck to my floor. My face is so hot I hold both hands to my cheeks, hoping time will rewind and I can handle this a lot differently.

I wait for what seems a crazy long time before I crawl on my hands and knees over to my bed, to make sure he doesn’t see me. I don’t bother to close the blinds, just flip off my lamp and curl into my oversized comforter.

Maybe, he’ll stick to his grumpy persona and never talk to me again. That way, I’ll never have to face the embarrassment of being a peeping tom. Shame follows me to sleep, and my dreams are anything but healthy. Different scenarios of what could have followed that moment spin in my head until morning when I wake up exhausted and restless. Luckily, I don’t have to be atwork until later. It’ll be chaos until I find a Santa, but at least, it’ll be distracting.

CHAPTER FOUR

Jenson

Working in my garage usually brings me peace. Give me a hunk of wood and a tall iced tea, and I can work a full day without checking my watch once. This job is particularly special because the client wants the table to be a Christmas gift. Luckily, it’s almost finished. It’s a large family kitchen table with a collage of photos from generations past to the present.

My goal is to arrange the photos and top with clear epoxy today, so it can set. Working for myself can be hard at times, but it feels great to be living my dream. My father taught me to whittle wood when I was little, and it came naturally to me. I was making pieces and selling them by the time I was in high school, and I never looked back. Over the years, I’ve had odd jobs—dishwasher, dog walker, server—but now, my business is built up to the point I can live off my carpentry without worry. I’ve got enough commissioned work scheduled for the upcoming year and even bought my house. Now, I work out of my garage and not a U-Haul storage unit. Life is good, exceptI’m struggling to focus on anything other than the house next door.

It’s a terrible idea to tangle with my neighbor, and I still have no plans of doing anything about my attraction to Holly. The fact she watched me through her window last night, though, has me all twisted up. Those angel eyes stared at me with something far too dark to be innocent, and it’s had my blood pumping to the wrong member of my body ever since. The fact she ducked to the ground when I noticed only makes me more curious. She was as bright red as her namesake, and it was fucking adorable. All night, I thought of all the ways I could make her turn that color. With my hands, my mouth, my cock.

Fuck, I need to stop thinking about it.

Gizmo barks, breaking into my thoughts, but he runs off, and my eyes follow, they land on the angel herself, trying to sneak into her car without being seen. That’s kinda hard when our driveways are right next to each other. The thought makes me laugh, though. Especially when my dog jumps on her, lapping her with his big tongue.

I’m not even mad my dog likes her so much. I can’t help myself, either.

“Gizmo, down, buddy,” I say, but of course, he doesn’t listen. That dog never does.

“Down, please,” Holly says, and I’m astonished when the traitor obeys.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I grab a shop towel and make my way over to pull off the love-sick mutt.

Just as I approach, an unfamiliar car pulls up. I’m close enough to Holly to smell her sweet perfume, but at the sight of the stranger, I find myself creeping closer. I hate the idea of another man coming to pick her up, which is as ridiculous as it sounds but doesn’t stop my steps.

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