Neighborly Complications (Stories of Serendipity #1) (17 page)

Renee was a single mom, like Alyssa. But where Alyssa’s kids were younger, Renee told of the trials of raising a teenager. Grades, cars, and boys were her life. And Claire didn’t envy it. She’d never really pictured herself as a mother, except abstract daydreams when she was engaged to Tom, and she couldn’t imagine trying to go at it alone. She admired these women for doing it, and appearing to do it well.

When she heard the guitar player switch over to play a little Beatles, Claire excused herself and went to go listen. Blackbird was a guitar player’s standard, and this guitar player had a decent voice. She loved this song, and wanted to hear it a little closer.

While the guitar player crooned about flying off into the night, she felt a prickle on the back of her neck. When she looked up, she saw Max’s gaze on her from behind where the guitar player sat. Watching her, he leaned down and whispered something into the man’s ear, who nodded while continuing with his song. Then Max took a step back and came around to where she was sitting, listening to the man play.

He really was quite good. His nimble fingers had strummed everything from classic rock, to country, to blues. He played a lot of covers, but there were a few songs that Claire suspected were his originals, and she liked them too.

She could feel Max’s nearness as he came up behind her. A heat radiated from him that shocked her to her core. Claire was unable to describe the intensity of the need that she felt for him. It was more than lust, especially after last night. She had held him through his nightmare, then the rest of the night, just smelling him and listening to his heart beat. She’d rested her head on his chest and watched the tick of his pulse in his neck while he slept.

Creepy much? Maybe.

The guitar player switched tunes, to a more upbeat tune from Abbey Road. As he sang the lyrics about a girl who messed with the guy, and how he wondered what went on in her heart and mind, Claire realized that Max had requested this song. Probably for her.

“You really do tear me up inside.” Max’s low voice in her ear was inescapable. He wrapped his arms around her waist and clasped them in front of her, pulling her back against his chest. She succumbed to him, and leaned back, exhaling a heavy sigh. “Are you still leaving?”

She nodded. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t see what choice she had in the matter.

“Stay after the party. I think I’ve got a solution for you.” She felt his hot mouth on her bare shoulder, as he bit it softly, then licked and kissed the spot he’d bitten. Moisture pooled in her panties, and she was unable to control her hips as they pushed back against him. He chuckled against her skin, and the heat Claire had felt at his nearness threatened to erupt into a volcano of desire. Then his presence disappeared, and she was left with a cold lack of Max.

Claire sat in the nearest chair, and put her face in her hands. She didn’t know what to do anymore. Everywhere she went, she could feel his eyes on her, watching her. When he caught her looking, she could see him undressing her with his eyes. It was obvious he was trying to get under her skin. As if he weren’t already there.

“Hey.” Claire looked up to see Jessie sitting next to her.

“Hey.” Jessie handed her a plastic cup of something. “Thanks.” She took a sip. It was vodka and cranberry juice, so she took a bigger sip.

“I just wanted to tell you what everybody’s thinking.”

Claire’s stomach roiled. Was this where everybody got all protective of Max, the boy next door, who’d been through such tragedy, and nobody wanted to see him hurt? Was Jessie fixing to threaten to rip her hair out if she hurt Max? Too late for that.

“I just wanted to say that nobody’s seen Max this happy in a really long time, and we want you to just go for it.”

“What?” Not what she’d been expecting.

“I’ve been watching you two. I’m the world’s worst at relationships, but everybody’s watching the chemistry. Summer said you were thinking about jumping ship, and I’m telling you not to do it on Max’s account. He needs you.”

Claire laughed softly to herself. “I’m not too good with relationships either. I was going to ask you about your whole Wham Bam Thank You Sir operation.”

“And I’m not about to tell you. Max isn’t the right guy for that, and doing that won’t get him off your mind.” Jessie sat back. “Anyway, I’m probably overstepping some boundary here, but I don’t really care. If you leave, I’ll never see you again, and if you stay, you’ll forgive me eventually. Maybe even thank me.” She sipped from her own cup. “See you later.” Then she was gone.

It had gotten dark, and Claire looked over at her own house. She’d left the lights on, and it looked inviting from over here. She still didn’t have curtains on most of the windows, except her bedroom, but the pale yellow walls gave everything a warm glow, and you couldn’t really see the holes in them from this angle. She leaned back and looked. Could she really leave it all behind and start over again?

At some point, the guitar player must have taken a break, because the music stopped and he actually came to sit beside Claire with a huge plate of food in his lap. The girl that had been next to him all night was gone.

“My name’s Les, you must be Max’s girl.” He held out his hand, and Claire took it.

“I’m Claire, but I’m not exactly Max’s girl.” She smiled at him.

He laughed. “You may not think so, but the way he’s snapping at anybody who checks you out, it’s clear to everybody else, you’re off-limits.” He picked up a half a chicken and started eating, oblivious to the sauce on his face. Claire’s eyes rolled at yet another person butting into her love life, but she didn’t say anything.

Max came over then, “Leg, thigh or breast?” The look on his face was the same predatory look he’d been giving her all evening.

“Excuse me?” Les guffawed next to her, and irritation swelled before she could suppress it.

“The chicken. Would you like a leg, thigh, or a breast? Perhaps a wing? What piece of chicken would you like?” He was smirking at her, dammit.

“Oh, can I have half a breast? I can’t eat a whole one, not with anything else on the plate.” She started to stand. “You know what? I can get it. There’s no need for you to fix my plate for me.”

He pushed her back down. “Please. Let me fix your plate. You’re my special guest.”

She looked around awkwardly, realizing people were watching. “Fine. Half a breast then, and some brisket please. It really smells good.”

“A little bit of everything, coming right up.” He bowed and backed away, like a butler or something.

Les was still laughing. “Holy shit, he’s right.”

“About what?” Had he been talking about her?

“He told Brent you were totally sexy when you were mad.” His eyes roamed her face, making Claire blush. She should have just painted herself pink before she’d come over. This was getting ridiculous. “He’s right.” He took another bite of chicken. “Hot.”

So Max was talking about her. She didn’t know what to think about that. Him talking about how sexy she was had a shiver of pleasure running up her spine, but telling everybody that she got mad a lot sort of made her mad. She sighed as she realized the irony of that.

Max came over with a plate towering with meat and grilled veggies. Her mouth instantly watered as the aroma of summertime grilling took over her senses. “This looks great. Thanks, Max.” She balanced the plate in her lap and took the napkins that he offered her.

He turned to Les. “Hey man, thanks for bringing the guitar. The music’s cool.”

Claire nodded her agreement, mouth full of food.

“Yeah, well, as long as I’m not at work, I’m playing it. Might as well play in front of people. Thanks for letting me.”

“Hey, it’s either that, or everybody fights over the iPod. I like the live guitar better.”

Brent came over then. “Dude! That chicken could win awards.”

“Thanks.” Max looked uncomfortable under the praise, and Claire enjoyed watching his awkwardness for a moment. “Hey, I didn’t get to ask you earlier, how’s the horse ranch coming?”

“Slowly. I’m more of an immediate gratification kind of guy, and all this waiting on paperwork bullshit is driving me crazy. You’d think I was wanting to raise horses for dog food meat or something, instead of run a rescue service.”

Max turned to Claire. “Brent’s been trying to use his inheritance to start a Horse rescue ranch, but he’s having a hard time getting the government to recognize it as a non-profit agency.” He turned back to Brent. “Have you talked to Michael? I know it’s not his area of expertise, but he might know somebody or maybe he could flash some legalese around.”

“Yeah, I was talking to him earlier. He’s going to call some people Monday, but I think I’m going to be on my own with it.” Brent turned to Les. “Yo, have you thought about playing at the Gin? They have live music sometimes.”

Les picked up his corn, and Claire was looking forward to the masterpiece that would be his face when he got finished with the corn. Kernels stuck to the barbecue sauce? Sexy. She giggled into her hand, which made him look at her strangely before he started talking.

“Yeah, but I’m trying to work up a group before I have any gigs, you know? I don’t want to sit up there solo. I need a horn and a small rhythm section for what I want to play.”

Max tossed him a roll of paper towels, which he caught deftly. “Dude. Wipe your mouth.”

Claire reached for the roll of paper towels when Les finished with them, but Max turned her face towards him. He was squatting down so he was at her level, and when she faced him, his thumb struck out to wipe something off her cheek near her lips. The intimacy of the gesture was almost as effective as a kiss, and Claire was suddenly breathless.

“Got it. You don’t need a paper towel anymore.” The twinkle in his eye told her he’d knew how his touch affected her. He walked away to mingle with guests, leaving Claire empty again.

She watched Brent and Les exchange glances with each other before turning their gazes on her.

“What?”

Les shrugged. “Nothing,” before he raised more food to his mouth.

Brent chuckled. “I haven’t ever seen him this smitten.”

“Smitten? Who uses that word?” Les asked while chewing.

“Okay. Twitterpated.” Brent drawled at him, and Claire laughed, swinging his eyes back to her. “Although, I can’t say I blame him.”

She couldn’t take everybody talking about her, like she was Max’s girlfriend. “I’m moving away soon. There’s nothing going on between us.” She blurted it out, hoping to put an end to the conversation about how
twitterpated
Max was.

Brent chuckled. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

Suddenly not hungry despite how delicious everything was, Claire stood with her plate and walked over to the trash can to throw it away, then fix herself another drink. She mingled around for another couple of hours, laughing as everyone got progressively drunker, including Les, whose songs started leaning towards the raunchy made-up lyrics variety.

She was laughing along with everyone else, as he sang a parody of a popular Justin Beiber song when a tug at her hand stole her attention. Max was pulling her away from the crowd.

Curious, she followed.

He pulled her off the deck and across what was left of his yard, between the gap in the azaleas over to her own backyard.

“What, Max?”

His hands on her hips, he pulled her close. “I’m ready for the party to be over.”

“It’s your party. Tell them to all go home.”

“Nah…They’re all having so much fun. They won’t go home for another couple of hours or so.”

“Really?”

“Really. And I can’t wait that long.”

She knew what he meant. All of his looks and innuendos tonight had built up an uneasy anticipation within Claire. She wanted to drag him to the ground, rip his clothes off, and ride Max into oblivion, but at the same time, she couldn’t. She was leaving.

“You know I want you.” His mouth was so close to hers, Claire could feel his breath on her face, smell the barbecue and beer. It was a comfortable smell on top of his own personal smell that did things to her insides she didn’t really want to think about.

She nodded, but didn’t respond. She didn’t trust herself not to tell him how badly she wanted him too.

“I have a plan to keep you here.”

Again, she didn’t trust herself to speak, so she just stared at his face in the moonlight. His eyes sparkled, and even in the darkness, she could see his desire plainly etched across his face. His eyes dropped to her lips, and she felt one of his hands snake up from her waist to her shoulder.

“I really like this dress. You look amazing tonight.” His fingers slipped under the strap and moved back and forth against her skin, under the fabric.

Thankful she could finally respond to something, she said, “Thank you.” But she couldn’t recognize her voice. It was nothing more than a squeaky whisper.

She continued to watch Max’s face, as he watched his finger slide back and forth under her shoulder strap, before sliding around to the bodice of her dress. She inhaled sharply at the contact of his calloused fingers on her sensitive flesh, and felt the goosebumps rise under his fingers. He was just tracing under the top inch of fabric on her bodice, the swell of her breasts, but it was one of the most erotic experiences of Claire’s life.

Her insides pooled with warmth, and as the hand on her hips pulled her even closer, Claire felt him press against her stomach. She let out a whimper, and Max’s fingers left her bodice and trailed up her collar bone and around to the back of her neck.

“Lovely.” He whispered, as he pulled her by the back of her neck towards him for a scorching kiss.

He hauled her body into his, his tongue demanding entry into her mouth. She granted it willingly, meeting it swirl for swirl. She moaned into his mouth, and he let loose a predatory growl in reply. Claire’s hands went around his neck, and both of his hands lifted her by her bottom, as she wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing her core against the zipper of his jeans.

They kissed, fondled, and rubbed against each other hungrily, something inside Claire having snapped: all resolve whatsoever not to do this with Max. She wanted him too badly.