Dirty Neighbor (The Dirty Suburbs) by Cassie-Ann L. Miller Page A

Her tone is flat and dry.
     
    “Well, I figured I wouldn’t need to walk back since my next door neighbor would be here tonight.” I take a step towards her.
     
    She takes a step back. “So you admit it? You’re here because of me? To continue taunting me?” I can’t stop watching the way her red lips pout. I can’t stop imagining them around my cock.
     
    “Me? Taunt you?” I say innocently. “I’m just here to volunteer my time and my talent to the fine seniors of Reyfield.”
     
    She grunts. “Whatever.” She slips her bag onto her shoulder and slinks past me, out the door.
     
    That little prank I pulled in front of the window is starting to backfire on me, because since I stripped bare for her, Sammie is the only woman I’ve imagined being naked with.
     
    “So, how about that ride home?” I ask.
     
    She glances over her shoulder at me. She bites her lip and I can tell she’s looking for an excuse. “I’ve got to go to the grocery store before I head home. That’ll take a while.”
     
    “Ah — that’s perfect. I need to go to the gro—”
     
    “Y’know what?” she interrupts me, walking over and sliding her arm around Delores’ shoulders just as she and Nancy come ambling out of my classroom. “These lovely ladies would be delighted to drive you home, Keeland.”
     
    I open my mouth to protest but the old wench grins and lands a heavy, open palm on my ass. She grabs me by the elbow, dragging me towards the exit. “It would be my pleasure to take you home.” She gives Sammie a wink before turning back to me. “Come on, cowboy!”

Chapter 12

     
     
    The rays from the street lamp shine into the kitchen as I slip out of my sweater. I prop my hip up against the kitchen counter and sort through the mail.
     
    Mine.
     
    Mine.
     
    Not mine.
     
    Mine.
     
    Not mine.
     
    Not mine.
     
    Not mine.
     
    I used to think that our mailman is blind, but now, I think that he either can’t read or he just doesn’t give a fuck whose house he delivers which mail to. Regardless, he has a serious problem because half of the mail that pops up in my mailbox doesn’t belong to me. I constantly find myself running around Thornbush Lane delivering letters to their rightful addressees.
     
    Not tonight, though. I’ll deal with the mail in the morning.
     
    I drop the envelopes that don’t belong to me into a pile on the kitchen table, grab a frozen pizza out of the freezer and shove it into the microwave. While my dinner warms up, I turn on my computer, hoping hoping hoping that someone somewhere has invited me for a job interview. I know the economy is bad but I’m desperate now. I’ve gone four months without a job and I’m not eating freezer-burned pizza by choice. I’m quickly blowing through the severance pay I received when I lost my job.
     
    Next resort? Max out my credit cards. Not a good look .
     
    The microwave dings, informing me that my pizza is now scalding hot and soggy. I pout as I take it, along with the newspaper sitting next to the mail and head over to the kitchen table.
     
    I open my email. Nope — no job leads here.
     
    Sigh.
     
    Meanwhile, my hard-earned certified internal auditor designation sits and wastes away in a drawer.
     
    I browse the major job search websites again and leave a few applications but it really doesn’t look promising. Just as I’m about to send in a final resume, my phone dings on the table next to me.
     
    It’s Keeland.
     
    I’m still so annoyed that he showed up at the community center today. He deliberately scheduled his art workshop to coincide with my math tutoring. It’s bad enough that he’s in the house next door every single day. I’ve even started doing my meditation in the basement just to avoid him. Now, do I have to avoid the community center, too?
     
    This whole Keeland’s-back-in-town thing is starting to be too much.
     
    I want nothing to do with him but the fact that he caught me ogling him through my bedroom blinds