Page 2 of Seasoned
“It’s not an empty threat.”
“Okay.” He flashed a grin, which annoyed the hell out of her. “Anything else?”
To make sure he understood she wasn’t bluffing, Renee said, “Next time I’m calling animal control.”
“You would deprive my granddaughter of her pet?”
“No, that’s what you’re doing. Keep Samson in your yard. This is your final warning.” Renee stalked away.
“Have a good day!” Clive called cheerily after her.
Renee knew he was purposely trying to irritate her, yet she spun in the driveway to look at him. He was tall and the loose-fitting jeans hung low on his hips. She’d seen him shirtless plenty of times, washing his truck or his daughter’s car, mowing the lawn or working on some do-it-yourself project in the back yard. Curly hairs sprinkled his chest—some of them already turned gray—as sweat trickled down his tanned skin while he worked.
She’d never met a man who aggravated her more. She’d never met a man who turned her on more. But she was self-aware enough to acknowledge that part of her aggravation stemmed from her attraction to him.
Narrowing her eyes, Renee tossed around a number of tart comments in her head to throw his way but didn’t bother. He wasn’t worth the effort and she wouldn’t give him any more satisfaction in knowing how much he irritated her.
She stepped hard across the grass and once inside her house, slammed the front door shut.
Clive strolledto the back of the house where the kitchen opened into the den. His granddaughter was lying on the floor, coloring, with Samson right beside her keeping her company.
Margie looked up when he walked into the kitchen. “Grandpa, is Miss Grumpy mad again?” she asked.
Clive grimaced. She must have heard him call her that name when he was talking to his daughter. He’d have to be more careful in the future.
“Maybe a little annoyed. We gotta be careful about keeping Samson in our yard, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And no more calling her Miss Grumpy because that’s not her name. Her name is Miss Joseph.”
“Okay.” Margie went back to coloring.
Miss Joseph was sexy as sin but bitter as a lemon peel, and an annoying complication in his life. She was always mad, and she’d been that way long before the problems with the dog. According to the neighborhood gossip, she was a divorcee who’d owned the ranch house for decades and kept it rented for years, finally moving in permanently four years ago. A few of the neighbors had warned him about her penchant for keeping an eye on everyone else to make sure they followed the rules and regulations.
He’d learned the hard way how much she liked complaining. Her letters to the home owner’s association had cost him several fines and had landed him on the board’s shit list.
Clive turned on the burner under the meat sauce to warm it up for their dinner. His daughter Chelsea always pre-cooked meals he could heat up. She was working tonight, so he was responsible for feeding and getting his granddaughter ready for bed.
Before his wife Margaret died, she used to be responsible for taking care of Margie, her namesake. Their daughter had been living with them ever since she became pregnant and her no-good fiancé had done nothing to help her out. Couldn’t hold a job to save his life, and now he was in jail for the next couple of years for stealing a car.
Clive shook his head as he moved around the kitchen, getting plates and glasses ready for their meal. Though his daughter had made a huge mistake having a kid with that loser, Clive wasn’t the least bit sorry about his granddaughter. She brought him joy and happiness every single day, and now that he was retired from his construction business, having her around kept him busy when he’d otherwise have to find ways to occupy himself.
Chelsea had her own ideas about how he could occupy himself. She thought he was overdue to start dating, but he couldn’t muster the enthusiasm for a long-term commitment at this point. Besides, he wasn’t sure what kind of woman he liked anymore. Margaret had been a jewel. As a mother, she’d been patient and affectionate with their three kids. She’d been supportive by working as his administrative assistant and billing department all by herself. And he certainly couldn’t have asked for a more perfect wife, one who loved him unconditionally and never failed to lift his spirits with encouraging words. He didn’t have high hopes of finding someone exactly like her again.
He did know, however, what he wasn’t looking for. He couldn’t fathom being involved with a woman like Renee Joseph—miserable, cranky, and in general lacking the joy of life. He’d only seen her smile a few times, and not at him.
Her personality turned him off, but her physical appearance—that was another matter. Her smile, though rare, was pretty and framed by dimples, and she was short, with toffee skin poured over a shapely frame. She taught at the nearby high school and during the school year, always dressed in an understated yet sexy manner in pleated trousers and tailored dresses that made his eyes linger on her breasts and hips.
Her hair was cut in a short, trendy style and jet black. It caressed her face and neck and always looked shiny and soft. On more than one occasion, he’d fantasized about running his fingers through it to test the texture. On more than one occasion, he’d imagined taking a handful and tugging back her head so he could have unfettered access to her angry mouth, her smooth throat, her magnificent breasts.
Shit. Clive shook his head.
“Dinner’s ready. Go wash up,” he told Margie.
“Okay!” She hopped up from the floor. “Smells good, Grandpa,” she said, darting in the direction of the half bath downstairs.
Clive removed the garlic bread from the oven and tossed the oven mitt onto the counter. He shouldn’t be daydreaming about that woman. Just his rotten luck, the woman he couldn’t stand, and who couldn’t stand him, was the one woman he couldn’t stop thinking about. No point in thinking about her anyway.
