Page 22 of Faking it With the Player Next Door

She was all I could think about anymore.Taylor, that is, not Ellie.

“Ellie, go back to L.A.,” I repeated.

“Come with me,” she whined, fluttering her eyelashes.

Those things reminded me of a giant spider, but every woman I saw over the last few years had false eyelashes. I didn’t understand all the beauty regimes that women felt were needed. I preferred the natural look. Little to no makeup. No two-inch long nails painted with some colorful nail polish.

Someone like Taylor.

Lowering her head, Ellie walked up behind me, wrapped her arms around my waist, and laid her cheek on my upper back. Granted, Ellie was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and dated, but she wasn’t the girl for me. I didn’t need all her pouty behavior, nor did I want a future with her. She wasn’t, as my mom would say,marriage material.

Ellie Parsons is a swimsuit model, and we were introduced last year at a sports award show. We hit it off, dated, and were sometimes inseparable, but I’d grown tired of her high-maintenance lifestyle, her neediness, and, to be honest, her whiny voice.

Hearing about herfriends, and how they dissed each other when the other was absent, made me shake my head. Women were so catty and competitive, and soul-sucking for me. I couldn’t handle being around Elle’s group, especially when a few of her model friends hit on me.

That bothered me to no end. Some of the women Elle considered friends and acquaintances were bad choices, which, in my mind, said little for her integrity. These women had no qualms about throwing the others under the proverbial bus if it meant furthering their careers.

“Van…” Ellie whined.

“I can’t do this right now, Ellie,” I scolded. “Go back to your hotel. Go back to L.A. I don’t care.”

Running a hand through my hair, I wanted nothing more than to go next door, pound on Taylor’s door, and see why she’s been avoiding me.

“Fine!” Ellie spat, stomped across the house, grabbed her purse, and stopped at the front door. She spun around to face me and then continued her tirade. “You know I can ruin yourgood boyimage? I can make your life a living hell.”

“Do whatever you feel like,” I countered. “I don’t care.”

Huffing, she stepped outside and then slammed the front door in her wake. Rolling my eyes, I counted to twenty, giving Ellie enough time to leave, and then I raced for the back door to go out to the deck for some fresh air.

***

Someone was pounding on the front door, but I was sitting in the backyard on the deck. I stood from the chair, took my half-empty beer bottle to the driveway, and circled the house to see who was visiting me.

From the vantage point of the driveway, behind the tall bush, I could see who was on the front porch, but they wouldn’t be able to see me too easily. If it was Ellie coming back to argue more and give me some pathetic reason to go back to L.A. with her, I could avoid her.

Seeing Hunter pounding on the door, I stepped out so he could see me. “Hey, there,” I chuckled. “You’re gonna knock the door off the wall. What’s the urgency?”

“You sonuva…” Hunter shouted, then jumped off the porch, running full force in my direction.

“What?” I grimaced and held up my hands. “What’s wrong?”

Hunter didn’t answer; instead, his body collided with mine, and we fell to the lawn. My beer bottle flew out of my hands, and I heard it crash to the cement in the driveway, shattering. Hunter struck me that the wind got knocked out of me, and my first thought was my arm.

“G-Get the hell off me, you jackass!” I panted, pushing Hunter away. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“Me?” Hunter growled and pushed up.

He was straddling me, and his knees were at my side. Laying here, I didn’t feel any pain in my arm or hand, but I was petrified to move it as I thought Hunter might have hurt me.

“What the hell, H-Hunter?” I stared at him; his nostrils flared, and his chest heaved. “What’s going on?”

“Taylor…” he gasped, trying to catch his breath from the blow.

“What about her? I h-haven’t spoken to her in two days,” I swallowed hard.

“Who the hell was the brunette?” He growled.

“Huh?” I frowned. “What brunette?”

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