Love Next Door (Lakeside #1) by Helena Hunting

I loop my arms around his neck. We move together, a push and pull, fill and retreat that gains speed and vigor until we’re both panting and sweaty, battling our way to orgasms. I fall first, thankfully, and as soon I start contracting around him, he hisses a triumphant Yessss and pounds his way to his own climax.

It lasts all of fifteen minutes, but my heart is slamming in my chest and I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. He flops back against the cushions, eyes closed, and exhales several long, slow breaths.

“What the heck was that about?”

He cracks a lid, and a sheepish grin tips the corner of his mouth. “Stress relief?”

I snort a laugh, and his eyes crinkle at the corner. “One second we’re talking about the will, and the next we’re naked. Seems like a classic avoidance technique to me.”

He looks away for a second, maybe embarrassed about being called out. When he turns back, he’s smirking, but worry lurks behind his eyes. “You call it avoidance, I call it stress relief, but it was an excellent distraction, even if it didn’t last very long.”

I run my hands through his hair, smoothing it out. “Should we do something constructive? Look through Bee’s files and see if we can’t find something that might help?”

“It’s probably a good idea. I don’t know how much I processed after Grammy Bee passed, you know? And just when I was ready to deal with everything, the money went missing from the foundation, and I lost my job.”

“It’s a lot, isn’t it? Why don’t we make dinner first?” I ask.

“Sure. That sounds good.”

We get dressed, and I wash my hands before I pull things out of the grocery bags. Van and I fall into a familiar routine, standing side by side at the kitchen counter.

“I’m sorry you keep getting thrown curveballs.”

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not actually okay, but I can handle it. And it’s not your fault. I feel like I’m at a crossroads in my life. Grammy Bee always believed things happen for a reason, but this whole thing—her dying; me being given this cottage; everything that happened with the foundation; coming here, getting to know you, and believing it’s possible to have a fresh start, and then being told it might all be taken away—I just want to know what message the universe is trying to send me. Let go? Hold on? I’m an asshole? I just don’t know.”

“Well, I can tell you that you’re not an asshole.”

“Thanks, but you know, when I really look at the life I was living, I honestly don’t think I was doing any of it for the right reasons. I liked my job, but I didn’t love it. It was more about the paycheck than it was about the gratification of a job well done. I should have found it rewarding, but I didn’t. This”—he motions to the cottage—“being here, working on the garage, fixing this place up like I’d talked about when I was younger . . . this is the stuff that actually means something, you know? This is what matters: making memories worth holding on to.” He shucks a cob of corn, getting silk all over the counter and the floor. “I’m starting to sound like a freaking Hallmark movie, and I’m at risk of having to hand over my man card if I keep it up.” He shakes his head, as if clearing the heavy subject matter. “Is everything okay with your brother? I saw him today at Bernie’s.”

“You did? I didn’t think he had an appointment. Or not one anyone told me about. Was he with my mom?”

“No, he was on his own. I offered to drive him home, but he said he was fine, and he called someone to pick him up.”

“Huh. I honestly don’t know what that would have been about. I think there’s a lot going on with him, and while he’s always been the kind of person to dance to his own beat, he’s been doing some strange things lately.” I shake my head. “Ugh. You know what? Let’s not talk about this either. Oh, and about the garage, I know you know what you’re doing, but you can always talk to my dad about the renovation. I’m sure he’d be happy to help out.”

“I keep meaning to have Aaron come by, but he’s been busy. I’m going to give it a go on my own, but it’s good to have backup if I run into any snags along the way.”

“Makes sense. How was the rest of your day? What else is going on? Make any new discoveries since your brother and sister left?”

“Actually, I found a stack of ones in the old butter dish in the china cabinet.”

“Really? I thought you couldn’t find the key for it.”

“I couldn’t. I used a bobby pin to get it open.”

“Ah yes, the old bobby pin trick! I bet Bee has a million of those hanging around. She was forever wearing her hair up.”

“Oh yeah, there was an entire basket full of them in the bathroom medicine cabinet.”

“It blew my mind that she could put those in without even looking at her reflection, and her hair was always perfect.” I pull three sheets of aluminum foil free, then drop a dollop of butter on each and a sprinkle of salt before I add a cob of corn and roll them up.

“She wasn’t big on pampering, but she hated when her hair didn’t look good.”

Van and I talk about Bee while we prepare dinner. Once the corn and vegetables are on the barbecue, we pull out the will and estate documents. There’s an older version where the cottage was supposed to go to Van’s mother, but that obviously was updated after she died.