Page 20 of The Neighbor's Son

I glance down at her feet. “We’re walking there. Those are sexy as fuck, but do you have something more comfortable to wear on your feet, unless you want me to carry you.”

She snorts. “No. I don’t want you to attempt that.”

Attempt?

I’d carry this woman anywhere and everywhere if she wanted. She’s a bit independent though, so she’d probably prefer to just change her shoes.

Once she comes back with Chucks on her feet, I take her hand and lead her outside where my bag is waiting. She eyes it curiously but doesn’t try to peek inside.

We walk toward the back of the complex, passing several townhomes until we reach a fence. Behind our property is a wooded hill. Since no one can build on it, it remains wild and untouched. But I’ve been escaping here since I was a child and have carved out a path to the good part.

“I’ve never been back here,” she says, leaning in close. “It’s dark. Anything to be scared of?”

“Nah,” I assure her. “Squirrels and rabbits mostly. Plus, I’ll protect you.”

She seems satisfied at that answer which makes me puff up in pride. The moonlight shines brightly through the trees, making our trek easy to see. It’s a steep incline and we have to weave around some of the bigger trees and roots, but we eventually make it to the opening near the top.

Years ago, Dad helped me build a picnic table up here, so I’d have a place to sit. Tonight, it’s decorated with a yellow tablecloth weighed down by a couple of rocks. More tiger lilies sit in a vase in the center beside several candles.

“Oh my God,” she says under her breath. “This is the most romantic thing ever.”

“Have a seat while I get things ready.”

She sits down at the picnic table, eyes lit up with anticipation. I set down my bag and retrieve a lighter. Once all the candles are lit and adding to the mood, I begin pulling out the containers of food I prepared.

“At home, I do all the cooking. I always felt bad for my dad and wanted to help him whenever I could. When I was a kid, and he needed a sitter, I’d go over to Maggie’s. She taught me to make quite a bit of stuff. The rest I learned from Pinterest.”

“Pinterest.” She grins at me. “You’re continuously surprising me, Brayden Foss.”

I wink at her and then start telling her about all the different courses I made. We start with a simple Caesar salad with homemade croutons. Next, I offer her some stuffed mushrooms.

“It’s my first time making these, so if you don’t like them, I won’t get upset.”

She takes a bite and groans happily. “They’re so good.”

I devour two in a row and completely agree.

“This is the main entree.” She laughs when I open the container. “Real lasagna.”

It’s the good, homemade kind with a ton of ingredients. None of that fake, frozen shit. Her eyes twinkle when I grate fresh parmesan over her food.

While we eat, she tells me about her day at work and how busy they were. I like how her face lights up whenever she mentions what she does for a living. I’m proud of her for helping people in pain so they can heal.

If only someone could help heal her heart…

I hope I can be the one for that job.

“This is such a sweet gesture,” she says after finishing her lasagna. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before. Not even…”

“It’s okay to say his name,” I tell her. “I’m not threatened by him.”

That’s not the total truth, but I want her to feel comfortable confiding in me.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she says quickly. “Derek was a good man. He just…he never spoiled me like this.”

“His loss.”

Her gaze softens as she watches me put away the lasagna container in the bag. I pull out dessert for last.

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