Page 28 of Average Joe

I whacked and whacked, hitting rocks and nicking the fence. I revved the motor, then killed the switch just so I could start the noisy gadget back up again.

A sharp sting hit my head. A pebble, most likely. That bastard. I ignored the pain.

Another hit my back. That one hurt. Still, I was a woman on a mission, so I shrugged off the annoyance.

When I’d weed-whacked all I could butcher, I sauntered back to the garage where my shiny new Honda waited, pulled the easy start handle, and got busy trimming the lawn.

I pushed the red machine to the end of the grass, gave her a turn, and nearly ran over a set of flip-flop-clad feet. Those size fourteens were too attractive for a man with a record. Clean nails. The perfect amount of hair. Too shiny, like they’d just been polished.

I dragged my gaze up the length of him. Black basketball shorts. Bare torso. Bare chest. Muscles twitching and flexing, biceps bulging, and… Oh, shit, arms flapping along with his lips.

I jerked my headphones off my ears and killed the engine.

“And who the hell mows their lawn at seven thirty in the morning? Christ, woman. Have some common decency.”

I cocked a hip and quirked a brow. “I’m sorry. Were you saying something?”

Those dreamy eyes narrowed, red-rimmed and swollen like the first day we’d met. Only now, I was confident that lack of sleep and too much beer the night before was to blame.

“What’s the matter, big guy? Bit sleepy today?” I tilted my head, pretending to study his face. “You’re a little green around the gills.”

“You did this on purpose.” He huffed, hands moving to his hips, head shaking.

No sense in lying. I’d made my point. “Sucks having rude neighbors, doesn’t it?”

Joe nodded, chin down. His full lips disappeared between his teeth, and that solid, square jaw flexed, veins popping in his neck. Poor guy. Looked painful when he said, “Point made.”

He turned to leave, then stopped. “What’s your problem with me?” he asked over his shoulder.

Dear God, he was every bit as enticing from the back as he was from the front. My body fevered, sick with desire.

“I mean, fuck,” he continued, turning back, coming face to face with me, his morning breath only slightly off-putting. “The chemistry wasn’t my imagination, was it?”

My neck muscles betrayed me, moving my head back and forth. My mouth, however, stayed on track. “Listen, Joe. The sex was phenomenal. It’s just. I. Um…” Jeez, I was tired of playing the same broken record over and over. Still—curse my stubborn will—I continued. “I’ve been with guys like you.”

His whole frame slumped like a disappointed father. “There you go with the‘likeyou’crap again.”

“Well, you’re fresh outta the slammer.” I threw my arms up in frustration. “You didn’t get there by being a good guy.”

“Know what?” He opened his mouth, closed it, released a loud breath, then threw up a hand. “Never mind.” He backed away, his shoulders sinking in defeat.

“Listen. We’re neighbors. We—”

Joe silenced me with an icy glare, one I’m sure he’d perfected in prison. “Save your breath, gorgeous. I can smell bullshit from a mile away.” With that, he stormed off.

I’d won that round. Yay, Team Marley!

But why, oh why, did my chest cave in defeat?

My cell buzzed in my back pocket. Flustered, I paid no mind to the screen and answered, “Yeah?”

“Doll, it’s me.”

Warren. Ugh. I didn’t have the energy.

I ended the call.

The phone buzzed again. Angry, more at myself than anyone, I hit accept and yelled, “Don’t call me anymore. We have nothing to talk about!”

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