Page 22 of Average Joe

Joe

“You’re coming to opening night, right?” Bridget Cross asked, her tone harsh, the warning clear though unnecessary because she knew I would deny her nothing.

Con’s sister, CEO of Cross Crew Enterprises, the company she ran with Connor and their father, had been the bratty kid sister Con, Frank, and I had tormented while growing up. Bridget had a great head for business and finances, and Con was a genius with the development and construction side of their mini empire.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said through a yawn, stretching my aching muscles.

The tomboy who had once followed us around like a shadow had grown into a force to be reckoned with. Killer blue eyes, wicked curves, and a keen business sense made for a deadly combination. Cross Crew Enterprises currently owned three successful neighborhood bars, two gourmet food franchises, and several small-scale entertainment venues. Her newest endeavor was a nightclub near downtown Seattle.

“Good.” She sighed. “I’ve missed that ugly mug of yours. Oh, I’ve got a suit lined up. I’ll bring it over later this week.”

She ended the call before I could argue. Not that I would complain. Two Men’s Wearhouse purchases currently hung in the closet, courtesy of Mom and her Joe-is-home shopping extravaganza, but they were conservative, cut for job interviews, not swank club openings. I harbored a strong disdain for shopping, so if a pretty lady wanted to dress me for a night on the town, God bless the angel.

I scrubbed a hand over my face and rolled to a sitting position, grunting through the pain. My back was a mess. My feet hung off the end of Alice’s queen-sized, and the yellow floral pattern on her comforter clashed with the ink on my arms and torso. I doubted Alice had updated her mattress or her bedding since I’d hit puberty.

My to-do list grew daily. Purchasing a man-sized bed was the latest entry and torture that could wait another day.

I slipped into my shoes and limped downstairs, cursing myself for having added the extra weight on leg day when I hadn’t been to the gym in weeks. I headed outside, inhaling the warm spring air.

Most people took checking the mail for granted. Me? I couldn’t wait for the blue-and-white truck to pass every day. For one, when I was in the joint and the years following, I never received one fucking letter, and that was on purpose, but two? Well. The tin box sat across the street, meaning, after checking for any letters, I had an excuse to study Marley’s house, and with any luck, catch a glimpse of her inside.

I had just slammed the metal door on the mailbox closed when a soft voice startled me.

“Hi, Joe.”

Sweet hell. My nostrils flared. My chest pounded a sporadic rhythm. I took a moment to pull my shit together before turning to greet my neighbor.

Not that those measly seconds did any good. The sight of her scrambled my thoughts.

She wore cutoffs, green flip-flops, and a black wife beater with no fucking bra. I knew there was no undergarment because I could make out the shape of her puckered nipples through the thin shirt.

Lord have mercy. How was I supposed to keep my eyes at a respectful level? Marley had grade-A, top-shelf, major league tits. More than a handful. Soft but still firm enough they didn’t droop or sway when she moved.

“Hey, neighbor.” I pretended to look through my stack of envelopes before finding her eyes.

Marley smiled, then stuck her key into the lock, wriggling it a few times before the latch gave way. “How’re things?” she asked, shoving both hands inside to gather her correspondence.

“Things are rolling along.” I studied her ass while her back was turned. Those shorts hung so low and loose on her waist that I was sure the slightest tug would send them to her ankles.

She gathered a box and some envelopes to her chest before locking things back up, then gave me a once-over, her bright gaze lingering on my lips for a beat. “Hot today, huh?”

“Yeah.” Hotter, suddenly, with her standing so damn close. “Haven’t seen you around. Been busy?”

“Always.” The skin under her eyes was darker than usual. “New truck?” she asked, nodding over her shoulder toward my driveway.

“Had her awhile.” My pearl white Tacoma needed a good wash but even dusty from the long drive, she was a beauty. “Waited to bring her home until I found a home for Alice’s Camry.”

“What’d you do with Alice’s car?” She shielded her eyes from the sun with a hand to her forehead.

“Single mom who lives a few blocks down took her off my hands.”

Marley’s face lit, eyes sparkling. “You gave it to her?”

I shrugged. “Wasn’t a big deal. The woman needed a vehicle. I needed room to park my baby.”

Marley stood silent, gnawing her lip, seemingly lost in thought.

“Everything okay?”

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