Page 6 of Rose and the Grouch Next Door

And I know once I start, I won’t be able to stop.

Continuing to watch the golf cart, I see the blonde driver steer the cart to hop the curb and park on the edge of the sand. Rose and her canine companion both jump out, running for the water’s edge. Honeybun racing alongside his barefoot owner, tongue lolling out, and kicking up sand in his wake. She beats him, wading into the lapping waves, not caring she’s getting her ass-hugging, cut-off shorts wet as she laughs and calls his name.

They’re both jumping up and down in the shallow water, splashing one another without a care, and Rose’s bubbly laughter is so loud I can hear it from here. She’s oblivious to anyone, like me, who might be watching or judging her for her lack of inhibition. Rose is amazing. She’s embracing life and laughing.

Fuck, she’s justbeingin the moment. I envy her. She’s living her best life. No expectations, no pressure to perform, no looming deadlines, or fear of failure.

My phone vibrates with an incoming call and I see it’s my younger brother, Adrian, as I answer.

“What’s up, little man?”

He snorts out a laugh on the other end of the line. “Little man? Can we not start that again? We all know I’m bigger than you and can beat your ass.” Despite being younger than me, Adrian is, at six foot five inches, in fact, bigger than me. That’s saying something because I’m six foot two. He’s also broad shouldered and thick from years of lifting weights.

“Why the hell are you up so early?” I ask, knowing New York is two hours behind my time and I was up with the sun.

“Dude, I have a toddler. I’m awake early every day. If Conner is up, everyone is up. Such is the life of a single father.”

“Sorry, man. You need a break. I know you’re exhausted.” He has to be. Since his wife died a year after Conner’s birth, he’s been doing the job of two parents. Not like his wife, Clara, was much help. She was a socialite ice queen who married my brother just for status.

“If there is such a thing as beyond exhaustion, it’s me.” He sighs, sounding worn down. “Between keeping our overbearing parents happy, overseeing the family business, and trying to be a decent dad, it’s kicking my ass.”

“Maybe you need to take some time off? You can head down to see me and the new house. I can take my nephew to the beach. We can eat some good seafood and maybe you can meet a sweet, single Southern gal to take home.” When those words leave my mouth, I immediately think of Rose. No way would Rose be an option for him. She’s mine.

“You lucky fucker,” he says, but without anger. “You got your toes in the sand, drinking margaritas every day, while I’m heredealing with mom and dad. And no woman wants my baggage. It’s a lot to take on for any person.”

The guilt gnaws at me. My brother did his part for the family, married his social-climbing wife and got her pregnant. Now, he’s a widower, raising my nephew on his own.

I did my part as well, at one time. Good grades, excelled at sports, Ivy League college, met all family expectations, save one-marriage. I’m embarrassed to admit I ran away from New York and the pressure to marry someone with a pedigree. I didn’t want to end up like my brother.

My friend and financial advisor, Ash, recently relocated to this small, Southern town and suggested it would be the perfect place to find my writing mojo again. I didn’t hesitate. Just did it.

“How‘s the writing?” he asks, changing the subject.

“The change of scenery seems to be working,” I acknowledge. “Ideas are flowing again. There have only been a few distractions.”

I’ve definitely been distracted. Rose is all I can think about. My writing issues and deadlines are taking a backseat to my consuming desire for this woman. She’s in my every waking thoughts as well as my sleeping ones. She plays a leading role in my erotic dreams, forcing me to wake up to cold showers and stroking myself to completion like a teenage boy. While that takes the edge off, it’s no substitute for the real Rose. The Rose of my imagination would never measure up to having the real thing in my bed, letting me do unspeakable things to her curvy young body.

“Really?” my annoying brother drawls, obviously curious. “Distractions of the female variety? I really hope so, because your grumpy ass needs to get laid.”

“No more than you do,” I say defensively, knowing he is right. I sigh. “I have an annoying young neighbor and her even more annoying damn dog to deal with on a daily basis.”

“Uh, huh … so it’s young and the opposite sex.” I can practically see him grinning through the phone. “Do tell.”

“Nothing to tell. Just a pest of an animal from next door.” Deliberately, I downplay Rose. “The canine nuisance appears every morning for his morning swim. A morning swim in my pool!” I can hear him laughing at this. “Yeah, I’ve locked the gate, but the animal is some sort of fucking Houdini, magically finding his way to my yard every morning. He’s also an ass. Not even appreciative that I allow him to use the pool.” Adrian is rolling with laughter by now.

“He’s also taken to standing at my back door gazing inside with his intense puppy dog stare. This morning, I eventually caved and may have given him a piece of my bacon. He snatched it out of my hand and bolted like a rocket was on his ass, as if I was going to ask for it back. No, thank you. Slobbery bastard.”

“Holy hell, bro. I’m gonna need a video of this. Conner would love it.” Like a dog on a bone, he asks, “What about the young, female owner? Is her youth and hotness a distraction? I’m assuming she’s hot or we wouldn’t be talking about her.”

“I wasn’t talking about her,” I snap. “But yeah, she’s a problem. All bubbly and happy and shit. Hot as hell, and I’m fifteen years older than her. That’s a problem.”

“Hey, the heart wants what the heart wants. If she’s what you want, and she could make you happy, then go for it. Age is just a number, and fuck knows you need some someone in your life. A balm for your grumpy soul.”

“Thanks for the advice, old wise one. I’ll keep it in mind. You might do the same.”

“I got Conner. That’s all I need or can handle right now,” he grumbles

“Love you, brother, but I got to write. Got to pay the bills.”

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