Complete with Her

Like a sick bastard, I watched her for weeks. Being a chickenshit when it came to women, I didn’t have the balls to approach her. Hell, even my brother, Zane, would have felt a little insecure approaching a woman like the one who lived across the street from my new rental house.
She was a Scarlett Johansson look-a-like with all the curves and wavy blonde hair. Muscular legs disappeared beneath jean cut-offs, and watching them as she climbed her front stoop in the late afternoon sun turned my throat into an arid wasteland. Head down, as usual, neighbor-girl passed through her front door, and I let out a groan.
I’d come home early from the extension store I’d opened in Charleston, determined to finally introduce myself. A quick jerk-off over the toilet ensured I had a good chance of not popping a tent for a short time. Very short if she smelled half as lovely as she looked—even if her drab gray shirt appeared big enough to fit me.
I stood, hand on my front doorknob, and inhaled until my lungs hurt. Letting the air hiss between my teeth, I strode outside into the bright sunlight, my focus on the other side of the street and the short walkway lined by flowers and shrubs I imagined led to heaven.
My damn knees shook, and my heart thumped like that of a love-struck teenager. I hadn’t crushed so badly since the ninth grade when I dreamed of Mia Salerno wrapping her lips around my dick. There had been a handful of women after her, but not a single one of them had given me butterflies.
Not once had neighbor-girl turned a smile my way. While some might believe she was a snob, her slumped shoulders and avoidance of eye contact made me think otherwise. Shy? Damaged with a shit load of baggage? I wasn’t sure, but one thing I knew, she called to me, like two lonely souls capable of filling the missing piece of each other.
I hoped so, anyway.
Zane would’ve teased the shit out of me for having such girlie thoughts. We shared the same parents, but beyond that, we couldn’t have been more different.
Pushing aside thoughts of my brother, I stepped onto my neighbor’s stoop, shook my fists out at my sides, and stretched my neck from side to side.
A quick, fortifying inhale, and I rapped twice.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed the window’s curtain move. My toes tapped in my sandals as seconds boomed passed with each heartbeat in my ears. The deadbolt clicked, and I put on my most charming smile.
Beneath a furrowed brow, gray-blue eyes peered at me through the ajar door. My focus narrowed in on the mole to the left of her mouth. Although a bad scar marred her upper lip, the imperfection didn’t make her lips appear less kissable.
“Hi.” I cleared my throat and tore my stare from the moistened, plump skin tempting my thoughts. “I’ve been meaning to come over and introduce myself. I’m Bastian Risso.”
She glanced down at my outstretched hand.
“I moved into the rental across the street a month ago.”
The door opened another foot. Much shorter than I expected, the top of her head didn’t even reach my chin. “Eve Thompson.” She grasped my hand with a calloused palm.
I almost leaned forward to breathe in whatever hidden scent clung to her skin, but as skittish as she appeared, I figured she’d slam the door in my face. “Nice to meet you, Eve.”
“You too.” Although her voice barely reached my ears, I caught the hint of a slurred accent.
“Nice accent.”
She dropped my hand and scowled. “Fuck off.”
“Wait. What?” She started to shut the door, but I held up my hand. “Wait. Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“It’s not an accent.” The words half-slurred, half-hissed from her lips. “It’s a speech impediment.”
“Either way, it’s sexy as hell.” Heat flooded my face as my thought escaped.
Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”
“Sorry.” I rubbed damp palms down my shorts. “I’m not very good at talking to beautiful women. It’s just that your voice is…well, kinda sexy.”
She snorted and cocked her head to the side with a “bullshit” curl on her lips. “What do you want, Bastian from across the street?”
“Do you…um…have any oregano?”
“Oregano?”
“I planned on making stuffed shells for supper and realized I didn’t have anymore.”
She opened the door a little farther. “Oregano,” she stated again, attempting to call me out on my bullshit.
I hunched my shoulders and shoved my hands in my pockets. “Yes.”
Eve’s gaze roamed down my body and back up. All five foot ten of me tensed beneath her inspection, but at least my dick didn’t flinch and embarrass the hell out of me. Eyes, the color of a summer storm cloud, met mine once more. “I’ve got fresh and dried. Which do you want?”
“Fresh would be great, thanks.”
She peered up at me for a few seconds before opening the door all the way and gesturing me inside. “There’s an herb spiral out back.”
I stepped over the threshold and kept my hands buried in my shorts’ pockets. “What’s an herb spiral?”
“Come on. I’ll show you.”
The living room to the right had pillows lined up in order on both couches, and the shelves of the TV’s stand had precise piles of stacked novels and sparkling trinkets—a woman who enjoyed reading and knew how to keep a neat house like Mom. Definite bonuses.
Eve turned left into the kitchen, and I ambled along behind, enjoying the opportunity to check out her flaring hips and biteable ass.
“You’re from Boston,” she said without turning.
“Yes.”
“Your accent gave that away. Italian too, I’m guessing by the surname.”
Feeling like an asshole again, I nodded even though she couldn’t see. “Papa is. My mom’s Irish.”
Eve pushed open the back door. I followed her outside into a yard loaded with trees, shrubs, and thriving plants. She pointed to the right. “Herb spiral.”
At least five feet across, a spiral made of rocks rose from the ground, herbs and other greens growing between the winding curves.
“Wicked cool. Did you make it?”
Eve squatted down and ripped off a bunch of oregano. “Yes.”
I glanced around the small backyard again, recognizing most of the fruit trees and shrubs. Well, the fruits themselves, anyway. Not like I knew anything about growing food. A paver block fire pit with one lone chair sat in the middle of the oasis.
“Did you do all this?”
She stood and handed me the oregano, and I took care not to brush my hand against hers. “The apple and peach trees were here when I bought the place, but I planted the rest. Built the fire pit, too. I’m a little fond of s’mores.”
“God, I haven’t had one of those in years.” Thriving tomato plants in six-foot cages loomed to my left. I whistled. “You’ve got quite the green thumb.”
“I love gardening.” Eve’s eyes softened as she gazed around. “It’s my goal to be self-sufficient.”
“Like grow all your own food?”
“If I’d had that goal five years ago, I would’ve bought a bigger place. Land enough to raise a cow and pig or two.”
I blinked. “You’re full of it.”
She chuckled and glanced up at me. “Nope.”
“So what, you’re like a…farmer?”
Her smile widened, kicking another shot of lust to my groin. “I work down at Henderson’s Farm.”
“The organic place that raises sheep.”
“Yeah.”
Never in a million years would I have thought the hot, little woman smiling up at me would be a farmer. “That explains your hands.” Again, my thoughts escaped, and I cursed myself.
Eve flipped her palms upward and studied them. Her short nails had dirt under them, and the callouses I’d felt when she shook my hand grew at the base of each finger. “Not exactly lady-like.”
Thanking God she hadn’t scowled at me, I allowed my held breath to escape. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s refreshing to meet a lady who doesn’t mind getting her hands dirty.”
“Sorry for cussing you out.” Eve crossed her arms beneath her more-than-a-handful breasts, plumping up the plain, baggy top.
My mouth dried, and I forced my focus back on her face. “No problem.”
“I was born with a cleft palate and lip.” A furrow appeared between her brows. “Neither got fixed very well. Made for a lot of bullying in school, and obviously, I’m still pretty damn sensitive about it.”
I transferred my weight from one foot to the other and shook my head, the desire to wrap her up in my arms and protect her, itching my hands clutching at the oregano. “The world is full of idiots.”
“Assholes, you mean.” Eve bent to pluck a plant peeking out between two of the spiral’s rocks. “So. What brought you to West Virginia?”
“Business.” Jitters took over my stomach as I waited for her to take the bait.
She buried the plant beneath the straw mulch tucked around the herbs. “What kind of business?”
“How about you come over for dinner, and I’ll tell you about it.” I hurried on before she could turn me down. “And, you can tell me more about this self-sustaining adventure you’re on.”
Standing, she shot me a narrowed gaze. “A date?”
I didn’t bother stopping my slow grin. “Not the word I had in mind, but if you insist…”
Another low chuckle slipped past her parted lips, and her cheeks flushed. “I haven’t been asked out in years.”
My brow rose. “Seriously?”
“The scar. The accent.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“Their loss.”
She let out a huffed exhale like she didn’t believe me. “That’s what my co-workers say.”
“So. Dinner?” I tipped my head down to catch her gaze. “I have the perfect bottle of wine to pair with those stuffed shells.”
Eve wrapped her arms around herself once more as her focus moved beyond my shoulder.
I wanted to tell her how intrigued I was from all my stalkerish ways—how I felt this driving need to learn more about her, but I didn’t want to scare her off. She took her time in answering, and I struggled to breathe normally while waiting.
“You’re a city boy. I’ll probably bore you to death with my country-bumpkin ways.”
“Is that a yes?”
Wariness crept into her eyes as she peered up at me. “You truly want my company?”
Wanting to jump up and down like a little kid who found Tooth Fairy money, I settled for a nod. “Definitely. Seven?”
“All right,” she whispered.

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