Page 4 of Until Bax

“Well,youcan call my wife and let her know you’re not going to be there.”

“Or you could just tell her for me.”

“And miss out on her giving you shit? Not a fucking chance.” Talon laughs, and I grin at the look on Liam’s face. Mia, Talon’s wife, is one of the sweetest women I know, but she is also a ballbuster. No one, including me, wants to be on her bad side.

An hour later, after another beer and a plate of nachos, I pull into my driveway and hit the button for the garage but park outside since my motorcycle and four-wheelers are taking up the interior space. Getting out of my truck, I walk down to the mailbox at the end of the driveway and look over at the house next door. Kourtney’s BMW is there, along with a red Audi I don’t recognize. I wonder if it’s Olivia’s. It’s a nice ride and expensive, making me curious about her life back in Chicago.

After grabbing the pile of what I know is mostly junk mail from the mailbox, I head through the garage and open the door to the house. Gemma, my four-year-old Australian Shepherd mix, greets me with her tail wagging as soon as I step inside while Ira, my cat, watches with her golden eyes unblinking from her perch on top of the washing machine. After giving both girls some attention, I hang up my coat and walk down the hall.

Two years ago, I got my house for a steal when the original owners decided to move to Florida after their youngest left for college. They wanted a speedy sell without putting any money into the property, and I planned to flip it for a quick profit. That didn’t work out.

Over the past couple of years, I’ve done quite a bit of work. I opened the kitchen up to the dining room, updated the flooring and paint, and added all new cabinetry and appliances. I also started to update the bathroom in the primary. But after working on other people’s homes all day, I typically have zero energy to put into this space, so it’s going to be a while before it’s all done. And right now, the housing market is a mess, so I’m in no rush to sell.

Plus, at close to three thousand square feet on almost an acre of land, this house would be a great one to start a family in.

Not that I see that happening for me anytime soon. I work too damn much, and dating is about as fun as getting a root canal, so I’ve avoided it like the plague for a while now.

When I reach the kitchen, I drop the mail on the counter, adding it to the pile already there, then walk past the dining table to let Gemma out the double glass doors. The moment I slide it open, she darts across the deck, down the steps, and into the yard. When I get to the edge of the deck, my attention goes to the right at the sound of laughter coming from Kourtney’s backyard—the same laughter I heard at the bar. Gemma hears it too and runs that way, barking. The electric fence is the only thing keeping her from running next door.

“Quiet,” I order, and she shushes, glancing my way before taking off at a run to move farther into the yard.

When Gemma runs back toward me with one of the dozens of tennis balls, she’s hidden in the yard. I walk down the steps, then pick it up from where she drops it at my feet. While I’m tossing it toward the shadows cast by the trees that line the back of my lot, I look over at the house next door and find Olivia and Kourtney sitting on the back deck. They’re talking quietly, with a fire burning in a round gaslit fireplace between the two of them.

I’ve lived next door to Kourtney for a couple of years now, but as Olivia said, she travels a lot for work as a nurse. So besides the occasional chat when we catch each other coming or going, we haven’t had much contact. She was also in the same grade as Olivia, which put her a few years behind Liam and me in school, so we never ran in the same social circles.

After about ten minutes of playing fetch, Gemma begins to slow, obviously tiring herself out with all the running.

“You ready to go inside?” I turn to head for my deck but stop when Olivia’s voice cuts through the dark.

“I guess we’re going to be neighbors.”

Turning her way, I glance behind her and notice Kourtney is no longer outside, and the fireplace has been turned off.

“You’re taking the room?”

“Yeah, it’s perfect for right now.” She takes the steps down into the backyard, and Gemma takes off for her, stopping just short of the invisible fence. “Liam told me that you two got pups from the same litter a few years ago.” She continues into my yard.

“This is Gemma.” I bend down and pick up the ball Gemma dropped and carry it with me toward where Olivia stops.

“Hey, Gemma.” She squats down, and my dog—never one to miss an opportunity to make a new friend—immediately greets her, her entire body shaking in excitement. “You look just like Lucy.” She tips her head back to look up at me with a smile that causes my fist to flex around the ball in my grasp. “Liam told me that your cousin July was pretty insistent you two both needed puppies when they were dropped off at her vet office.”

“You could say that, or you could say she didn’t give either of us a choice.” I laugh, and her smile brightens before she falls to her ass to sit crossed-legged in the grass, allowing Gemma onto her lap.

“Do you guys ever let them play together?”

“She normally goes with me to work, and since Lucy does the same with Liam, they spend a lot of time together.” I squat next to her.

“That’s sweet.” She runs her fingers through Gemma’s thick fur, then looks over her shoulder at my house. “I was surprised when Kourtney told me you live next door to her.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah, I always pictured you living on a piece of property like your parents’ land, out in the country, with no one around and lots of trails for four-wheeling,” she says softly, her eyes lifting to mine.

I don’t know if it’s the outdoor lighting coming off the back of my house or the quiet of the night around us, but she looks even prettier than she did back at the bar.

“Some of my favorite memories growing up are from when you and Liam would let me tag along, and we’d spend the whole day riding in the woods on your parents’ property.”

The reminder of our history stings. She’s not some woman I met for the first time a few hours ago. She’s Liam’s little sister—the girl who used to ride behind me on the back of my four-wheeler and squeal with laughter when I’d purposely go through every mud puddle. The girl who would eat s’mores until she was sick and who giggled anytime Liam and I threatened to beat up some boy who liked her… or a boy she liked.

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