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 Her Naughty Neighbor

A Curvy Woman Instalove Romance

C.L. Cruz
Copyright © 2023 by C.L. Cruz

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical
methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact C.L. Cruz at
clcruzauthor@gmail.com.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and
products is intended or should be inferred.
 Contents

Dedication
Author's Note
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Epilogue
Also By C.L. Cruz
About C.L. Cruz
 For Nadine Audette.
Thanks for lending me your name!
 Author's Note

Trigger Warning: This story contains references to a past abusive relationship. While there are no explicit descriptions of
abuse or on-page violence related to the relationship, the narrative implies experiences of abuse in a character's history.
Reader discretion is advised, especially for those who may find such themes distressing.
 Chapter 1

Nadine

I jerk awake, heart pounding, not sure what woke me. For a moment, I lie frozen, disoriented in the darkness. Where am I?
Then, slowly, reality seeps in.
The new house. Larkspur. We're safe.
I exhale, trying to steady my racing heart, and glance at the digital clock glowing dimly on the bedside table. 2:17 AM. The
house is shrouded in an unfamiliar stillness, so unlike the noisy, cramped apartment we left behind. I swing my legs off the bed,
the cool touch of the wooden floor grounding me.
Slipping out of the bedroom, I tiptoe down the hallway, guided by the soft, silver moonlight streaming through the windows.
The unfamiliar creaks of the new house under my feet are a constant reminder of this new chapter we've bravely stepped into.
I pause at Ellie's door, pushing it open gently.
There she is, curled up under her new star-patterned comforter, a serene look on her face. I watch her for a moment, her chest
rising and falling rhythmically. In her sleep, she's untouched by the worries that plague my waking hours—the struggles of
starting over, the fears of a single mother trying to make it on her own.
A surge of protectiveness washes over me as I tuck a stray curl behind her ear. This move is for her. For a better life, away
from the shadows of our past, toward a future filled with hope and possibility.
I'll do whatever it takes to make sure she grows up safe, happy, and loved.
I quietly close Ellie's door and head downstairs. In the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of water. The house feels different at
night, every shadow and sound magnified in the quiet.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, I sip the water slowly, looking out the window into the backyard. The moon casts a
gentle glow over everything, turning the ordinary into something ethereal. Ellie's new toys are scattered on the lawn—a bright
ball, a jump rope, a little plastic shovel. It's a simple scene, but it means the world to me. I've been working toward this: a safe
place for Ellie to play, grow, and just be a kid without worries.
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. This is our sanctuary. Here, in the suburbs of Larkspur, we have space, peace, and a
chance to start fresh.
And let's be honest, it's not just for Ellie. After everything, I deserve this too—a chance to breathe, to live without constantly
looking over my shoulder.
But then, as I'm lost in these thoughts, a shadow moves across the yard. My heart skips a beat. It's probably just a trick of the
light, a passing cloud, or a tree branch swaying in the wind. But as I strain my eyes to see more clearly, I think I hear a sound—
the faintest creak of the porch floorboards, like someone stepping on them.
The glass of water in my hand suddenly feels like ice. My mind races with possibilities, none of them good. It's probably
nothing, I tell myself. But the unease gnaws at me.
What if the past has followed us, even here?
Setting the glass down, I move closer to the window, trying to see more. The shadows in the yard merge and shift, making it
hard to tell what's real and what's just my imagination. I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the fear. We're okay. We're safe.
That's what I have to believe.
Yet, as I turn away from the window, that creeping sense of unease lingers. My rational part argues it's nothing, but the
protective mother inside isn’t sure I want to take that chance. I’ve lived the last six years on edge, and it’s a hard habit to break.
There’s another noise, and a shadow moves across the window. I can't ignore it, not when Ellie's safety is at stake. Decision
made, my hands slightly tremble as I reach for the phone. My fingers dial 911 with a practiced ease, a remnant from a past
where such calls were more frequent than I care to admit.
 "911, what's your emergency?" The dispatcher's voice is calm.
"Hi, I... I think someone might be outside my house," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "I saw a shadow in my yard and
heard a noise on the porch. I'm alone with my young daughter, and we just moved here. I'm probably being overly cautious,
but..."
The dispatcher reassures me, telling me it's always better to be safe. They ask for my address, and I provide it, each word
feeling like an admission of my lingering fears.
"We'll send someone out to check, ma'am. Stay on the line with me," the dispatcher says, and I nod before realizing they can't
see that.
I move away from the window, my gaze darting around the dark kitchen. The dispatcher's questions continue, their voice a
lifeline in the silent house. I answer mechanically, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice as I strain my ears for any other
sounds that don’t belong in my newly quiet corner of the world.
A car pulling up outside catches my attention, and I peek through the blinds. Relief floods through me as I see the familiar
outline of a police car. The dispatcher tells me the officer will come to the door, and I hang up, ready to explain the probably
false alarm.
I open the door before he even knocks, my heart still fluttering like a trapped bird in my chest. Standing there, in the soft
glow of the porch light, is a guy about my age with striking blue eyes, neatly trimmed hair, and a disarming smile. He’s
familiar, and it takes me a second of awkward silence to place him.
"Hi," I blurt out, immediately cursing myself for sounding so breathless. “You’re my neighbor, right?”
He nods. "I'm Officer Ward, but you can call me Jake," he says, his voice deep and unexpectedly soothing. “Sorry to meet
you under these circumstances. I should have brought over a casserole or something."
I’m immediately at ease around him. "Nadine," I introduce myself. "And unless your casserole has chicken nuggets or
macaroni and cheese, it would have been wasted on us.”
“That’s right,” he says. “You have a kid.”
“A daughter,” I confirm. “Ellie. She’s asleep upstairs.”
"I'll keep it down then." He offers a reassuring smile. "Mind if I take a look around?"
"Please do," I reply, stepping outside.
As he descends the steps, there's no missing how the uniform hugs his frame in all the right places. It's cliché, the whole
attractive-man-in-uniform thing, but watching him now, it's easy to see why. The fabric accentuates his broad shoulders and the
lean muscles of his back, and I appreciate the view more than I probably should.
He moves confidently, checking the corners of the yard and the shadows around the house. I watch from the porch, holding
onto the railing like a lifeline. The night air is cool, but there's a warmth growing inside me that has nothing to do with the
temperature.
This feeling of safety in his presence is strange, especially since we’ve only exchanged a handful of words. After years of
being on high alert, I find his concern comforting, reassuring. There's something about him, a sense of genuine care and
protectiveness, that’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome.
“You’ve only been here for a few weeks, right?” His voice carries over to me, casual yet filled with genuine interest.
“Where did you move from?”
“We had an apartment downtown,” I explain vaguely, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. In Larkspur,
downtown could mean a lot of things, so I let him fill in the blanks.
He nods distractedly as he shines his light into the trees behind the house. “You should get some motion sensor lights back
here,” he suggests, and I nod agreeably. I assume our friendly conversation is over, but then he asks, “What brought you to the
suburbs?”
I can’t tell if he’s asking out of polite curiosity or if it’s part of his investigation, trying to see how often I might be disrupting
the peace.
“I’m opening a bakery nearby,” I tell him, a twinge of pride at my words. “And thought this would be a good neighborhood
for Ellie to grow up in.”
Having completed his sweep of the yard, he’s back in front of me again, hooking his thumbs in his vest. “I think you made a
good choice, but I grew up here, so I might be biased.”
"I hope so. It's been good so far, minus the midnight scares," I say, attempting to sound light-hearted.
Jake chuckles, the sound warm in the cool night air. "Looks like everything's fine out here. No signs of any intruders. But
make sure to keep your doors and windows locked, even when you're home. It's a safe neighborhood, but it's always better to
be cautious."
I breathe a sigh of relief, feeling a bit foolish now. "Thanks for checking. I guess I'm still adjusting to all the new sounds."
"It's completely normal," he reassures, stepping back onto the porch. "If you need anything, you know where to find me.” He
tilts his head toward his house just a few feet away.
I laugh, the sound more relaxed than I expect. "I'll remember that. Thank you."
 There's a pause, a moment where our eyes meet, and something unspoken passes between us. It's a connection, fleeting but
unmistakable.
"Well, I should let you get back to sleep," he says, though he doesn't seem in a hurry to leave.
"Yeah, sleep," I echo, not quite ready to end the conversation.
He lingers a moment longer. "Goodnight, Nadine."
"Goodnight." I watch him walk away, his silhouette gradually blending into the night.
Closing the door, I lean against it, my heart racing for entirely different reasons now. Jake, my neighbor, my midnight hero.
Maybe Larkspur holds more surprises than just quiet nights and unknown shadows.
Maybe, just maybe, it holds new beginnings too.
 Chapter 2

Jake

T heI'm
kitchen feels too big, too quiet.
standing over the stove, flipping a burger patty, but the usual hum of conversation is missing. It's just me now. Lily and
Ethan, not just my sister and best friend but my housemates for the past few years, have moved out.
I lean against the counter, glancing around. The place is cleaner, sure, more organized. But it's like someone turned down the
volume on life. No more fighting Lily for sink space as she cleans her paintbrushes. No more arguing with Ethan over the last
slice of pizza. Their laughter, their bickering, even their clutter—I’d never admit it to them, but I miss it all.
"More room, less mess," I mutter unconvincingly, sliding the burger onto a bun.
I wander over to the window with my plate in hand, peering out into the early evening. The backyard looks immaculate, a
stark contrast to when it held Lily's makeshift art studio. She'd transformed the old shed into a kaleidoscope of colors and
ideas.
Now, it's just an empty shed again.
Taking a bite of the burger, my gaze drifts to the house next door, where I met Nadine last night. The memory of her
silhouetted in the doorway flickers in my mind, the way her loose t-shirt and pajama bottoms hugged her sexy curves. The way
her wavy golden hair framed her soft face. The way her smile lit up the whole damn night.
She moved in a few weeks ago, and I can’t believe it took a 911 call for me to actually meet her. Maybe my sister is right—
I’ve been a bachelor too long. The universe drops a beautiful woman right next door, and I barely even notice.
The thought lingers as I finish my meal. This house, once so full of noise and warmth, needs something. Maybe it's not a new
couch or a fresh coat of paint. Maybe it's something else.
Something more.
As I’m washing my dishes in silence, there’s a knock at my front door. I peek out the window but don’t see a car out front, so
I wipe my hands on a dish towel and make my way to the foyer. When I swing open the door, I’m pleasantly surprised to see
Nadine.
The moment she says, "Hi there," her voice laced with a hint of nerves, I'm hit with a wave of attraction. She's stunningly
beautiful standing there in a low-cut top and well-fitted jeans accentuating her curves. Her uncertainty only adds to her charm.
To make her even more enticing, she’s holding a plate of what looks like homemade chocolate chip cookies.
"Hi, Nadine," I reply, my surprise morphing into a welcoming grin. "This is a nice surprise."
“Is it?” she asks, her face scrunching up adorably. “I wasn’t so sure after that false alarm last night.”
I wave off her concern, trying to put her at ease. “All in a day’s work.”
“Spoken like a true neighborhood hero.” She holds the plate up like an offering. “I brought these to thank you for your help
last night.”
Accepting the plate, my gaze inadvertently drifts to her lips, full and inviting. "Thanks, I have a soft spot for homemade
treats," I say, my voice a little lower than I intend.
Just then, a movement outside catches our attention. We both turn to see a little girl with a headful of wild golden curls
scaling the old oak tree in my front yard with the fearless abandon of youth. Nadine’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“Ellie! Careful!” Nadine calls out, but there's a hint of laughter in her voice, betraying her amusement.
She's not just beautiful; she's a caring and playful mother, too.
I chuckle, watching Ellie’s determined ascent. Even from here, I can tell she looks a lot like her mother—the same golden
hair, wide brown eyes, and rosy cheeks.
“You know, I used to climb that tree all the time as a kid,” I say. “She’s probably fine.”
 Nadine turns to me. “You did?”
“Yeah, I grew up here,” I say.
She cocks her head, a mix of surprise and curiosity in her gaze. “You’ve been here your whole life?”
There’s no judgment in her question; instead, it’s more like awe. “My whole life,” I confirm.
“That must be nice,” she says a bit wistfully. “To know where you belong.”
As Ellie hops down from the tree, I take the opportunity to invite them in. “How about we take these cookies inside? I can’t
eat them all by myself.”
Nadine hesitates, her lips pursed in thought. “I mean, I’ve got Ellie…”
“That’s okay,” I reassure her with a playful tone. “She can have a cookie, too.”
“I’ll take two,” Ellie declares.
“Two cookies, I mean,” I agree.
Ellie nods approvingly as she scoots past me into my living room. “You’re a good sharer.”
I look back at her mom, my eyebrows raised. “You hear that?”
Nadine laughs, unable to say no now, especially since Ellie has made herself right at home. “Fine, but make sure you kick us
out when we’ve worn out our welcome.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I will,” I tell her, guiding her inside with a hand on the small of her back as I shut the door behind us. What
I don’t say is that I doubt that moment will ever come.
In the living room, Ellie immediately gravitates toward a corner where some of Lily’s old art supplies are still scattered.
"You like to draw?" I ask her, amused by her instant fascination.
"I love it!" she exclaims, eyes wide as she surveys the array of colored pencils and paints.
"Help yourself," I offer, gesturing toward the supplies. Ellie doesn't need any further encouragement, settling herself at the
table.
As I turn my attention back to Nadine, I notice how she watches Ellie. There's a quiet strength in her gaze, a mother's pride
mixed with the relief of seeing her daughter happy and engaged.
"Looks like she's got a creative streak," I comment, placing the plate of cookies on the coffee table and nodding toward the
couch.
Nadine sits, relaxing into the couch. "Yeah, I’m not sure where she gets it from. I’m no artist." She laughs softly, a sound that
fills the room with warmth.
I pick up a cookie and take a bite, groaning contentedly, the combination of crunch and gooey, melting chocolate hitting the
spot perfectly. "I don't know about that," I say. "These cookies are a work of art. Did they come from your bakery?"
She nods, a hint of pride in her eyes. “Do you like them?”
"I love them," I reply earnestly. “Tell me more about this bakery.”
Her expression becomes slightly guarded as she starts to explain. “It’s actually a franchise of a female-owned bakery called
‘Just Desserts.’ They give grants to women who are…” She hesitates, and I sense a hidden depth to her story, a vulnerability
she’s not quite ready to reveal.
But I nod, wanting to show her my understanding and support. “I’ve heard of them, I think. They’re all about second chances,
right?” I ask, my curiosity piqued not just by the concept of her bakery but by the woman herself.
“Exactly,” she confirms, her guard lowering slightly, a glimpse of gratitude in her eyes for my recognition of her efforts.
“Nothing wrong with that,” I say. “We all need fresh starts now and then. In my line of work, I see a lot of people who just
need that one break, that one opportunity to turn things around."
Her expression turns curious. "Is that what drew you to police work? Being able to give people those second chances?”
"Partly," I admit. “But there’s also getting to wear that super cool uniform and carry a gun.”
Nadine laughs at my lame joke while Ellie looks up from her drawing. “Guns are dangerous,” she says. “My daddy has
guns.”
“Ellie,” Nadine sobers quickly, her voice scolding.
But I look at Ellie when I answer, “Guns can be dangerous if people use them for the wrong reasons. But that’s what I’m here
for. Call me if you ever think you’re in danger, and I’ll protect you.”
“You’ll protect me from the bad men?” she asks.
I nod somberly. “You and your mommy.”
Beside me, Nadine sighs, and it feels like a weight settles in the room. Ellie’s words and Nadine's brief hesitations start to
paint a picture in my mind. The "bad men" Ellie mentions, her father with guns—it suggests a past that's anything but simple.
And then there's Just Desserts, a company specializing in helping women start over. I can't help but feel a pull of curiosity
about what they've been through.
My gaze lingers on Nadine, taking in the subtle play of light in her hair and the warmth of her smile. It's clear to me now—
my interest in her isn't just passing curiosity. It's something deeper, a respect for her strength and an unexpected affection for the
person she is.
 I'm used to being a shield against danger in my line of work. Looking at Nadine and Ellie now, that protective urge is there,
stronger and more personal than ever. It's not just about duty; it's about this inexplicable connection that's taken hold of me,
something that goes beyond the badge and uniform.
Nadine glances at the clock and moves to stand up. "We should probably get going. It’s getting late."
Ellie, who's been diligently working on her drawing, hops up from the table and runs over to me with a sheet of paper in her
hand. "For you!" she exclaims, her eyes shining with pride.
I take the drawing, a colorful, abstract shape on the page. "This is great, Ellie! What is it?"
"It's a donut!" she declares. "Because police officers like donuts, right?"
Nadine looks mortified for a moment, a flush creeping up her neck. "Ellie, that’s a stereotype, honey..."
I can’t help but laugh, genuinely amused. "It's an awesome donut, Ellie. Thank you. I'm going to put this right on my fridge
and try to remember not to eat it."
Ellie laughs delightedly and scurries ahead out the door. Nadine and I follow, and once we’re there, Nadine stops and turns
to me, a serious look on her face.
"I'm sorry about some of the things Ellie said earlier about guns and bad men,” she says. “I'm not trying to drag you into our
drama, and I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t—”
“Let me stop you right there,” I cut her off, not wanting her to continue down that path of thought. Her words, laced with a
hint of resignation, paint a picture of a woman who’s used to facing challenges alone, accustomed to the weight of the world on
her shoulders. “You and Ellie are welcome here anytime.”
“You mean it?” she asks, still looking doubtful.
At that moment, I want nothing more than to erase that notion of being a burden from her mind, to let her know that her
company is not just welcomed but genuinely desired.
“I mean it,” I reassure her. “In fact, I’ve actually got box seat tickets to the Larkspur Larks' baseball game tomorrow night.
They were a gift from the chief. I’d like it if you and Ellie would join me."
She looks taken aback, her eyes searching mine. "Jake, you don't have to do this."
"I want to," I insist, stepping a little closer. "I really enjoyed your company tonight.”
For a moment, the world fades away. The space between us seems to shrink, and every detail of her face becomes more
pronounced—the softness of her lips, the warmth in her brown eyes, the subtle scent of her perfume. It's intoxicating, and I find
myself leaning in, drawn by an undeniable attraction.
Our faces are mere inches apart now, the anticipation palpable. My heart pounds with the possibility of this moment, the
thought of finally feeling her lips against mine.
Just as the tension reaches its peak, the sound of Ellie’s voice cuts through the air, breaking the spell. "Mommy, are you
coming?"
Nadine steps back, a flush of color on her cheeks, clearing her throat. "Yes, honey," she replies, her voice slightly shaky.
I straighten up, somehow both disappointed and amused. "Say you’ll come," I say softly.
Nadine nods, her smile returning, albeit a bit more reserved now. "We’ll come," she says. “See you tomorrow night.”
I watch them walk away and then head to the kitchen, where I place Ellie's donut drawing on the fridge. A smile plays on my
lips—this drawing, this simple, colorful representation of a child's affection, has suddenly become one of my most treasured
possessions.
 Chapter 3

Nadine

T hepractically
bright lights of the Larkspur Larks stadium loom ahead, casting a glow that seems to ignite Ellie's excitement. She's
bouncing in her seat as we pull into the parking lot. Jake glances back at her through the rearview mirror, his
smile mirroring her enthusiasm. I can't help but feel a flutter of excitement myself.
"Look, Mommy! It's so big!" Ellie's voice is a mix of awe and delight as she presses her face against the car window, taking
in the sight of the stadium.
"It sure is," I reply, feeling a warmth spread through me at her joy. I catch Jake's eye as he finds a parking spot, and there's an
unspoken understanding between us, a shared happiness in seeing Ellie so thrilled.
We step out of the car, and the energy of the stadium hits us in full force. The air buzzes with the sounds of excited fans, the
scent of popcorn and hot dogs filling the air. Ellie grabs Jake's hand, tugging him toward the entrance. I follow them, feeling a
sense of belonging that's both new and incredibly comforting.
As we make our way through the throngs of people, Ellie chatters non-stop about the snacks she hopes to get, like cotton
candy and ice cream in a tiny plastic baseball cap. Jake listens attentively, bending down to her level to talk to her, making her
feel like the most important person in the world.
"I hope they hit a home run tonight!" Ellie exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She’d been watching YouTube
videos about baseball all day while I worked at the bakery, and she had a few of the terms memorized, though I wasn’t entirely
sure she knew what they meant.
"If they do, we'll cheer the loudest," Jake promises her, and she beams up at him.
This evening, with its bright lights and the promise of fun, is exactly the childhood I've dreamed of giving her. Not one filled
with hiding, listening to arguments, or being scared, but one brimming with these simple moments of happiness.
Inside the stadium, the energy is palpable. The crowd's excitement seems to vibrate through the air as we make our way to
our seats. The box seats are incredible, offering a clear view of the field. Ellie's gasp of amazement makes me smile, and I feel
a surge of gratitude toward Jake for making this night possible.
As the game starts, Jake tries explaining the finer points of baseball to Ellie, who listens intently, hanging on to his every
word. His knowledge of the game is impressive, and his ability to simplify it for Ellie endears him to me even more. I watch
them interact, Ellie asking questions and Jake answering with patience and enthusiasm, and I find myself drawn into their
world, laughing along with their jokes and cheering at the right moments.
At one point, as Ellie sits happily eating some complimentary ice cream, he turns to me.
“How are things going at the bakery?” he asks, casually draping an arm across the back of my chair.
My heart stutters at his closeness, and I shift nervously in my seat. “Hectic,” I answer. “But at least we’re on schedule to
open next week.”
“That’s great,” he says. "Must be a big step, opening your own place."
“A dream come true,” I tell him happily. In fact, the last few weeks have felt that way—like something out of a dream. New
house, nice neighborhood, sexy cop neighbor who actually wants to spend time with me and my daughter.
"So, what do you do for fun outside of being a supermom and business owner?" His question catches me off guard, a
reminder that there's more to me than just my roles as a mother and business owner.
I think for a moment. "Well, I used to love hiking. Haven't done it in a while, though.” Nodding at Ellie, I add, “Sometimes, it
was the only way I could get that one to take a nap.”
Jake laughs. “There’s something about being out in nature, I guess. You know, there’s a trail not far from our backyards. It has
a great view of the valley."
 "No kidding?" I reply, surprised and delighted by this shared interest. “I’d love to see it.”
"We should go sometime," he suggests casually, but there's a hopeful undertone in his voice. "Could be fun, and Ellie would
probably love it, too."
The idea of going hiking with Jake sends a thrill through me. It's been so long since I've done something purely for
enjoyment.
"I think we'd like that," I say, trying to keep my voice even despite the excitement in my chest.
Our conversation shifts to favorite hiking spots and outdoor adventures. I find myself laughing and sharing stories of my pre-
motherhood escapades, feeling a sense of kinship with Jake. It's refreshing to talk about something other than work or
parenting.
As the game progresses, our conversation continues, interspersed with cheers for the team and Ellie's excited commentary. I
realize how much I've missed this—sharing interests, engaging in light-hearted conversation, and feeling a connection that's
about more than just our circumstances. And with his arm around my chair and the way he keeps looking at me with that heated
smile…
It almost feels like a date.
As the game reaches the seventh inning stretch, the announcer's voice fills the stadium, calling for volunteers for a parent-
child three-legged race. Ellie's face lights up with excitement, her eyes sparkling with the prospect of fun.
"Mom, can we? Please?" she pleads, her enthusiasm infectious.
I hesitate, watching other families eagerly descending the bleachers to the field. The idea of participating myself is daunting,
but before I can respond, Jake stands up, a determined look on his face.
"I got this," he says confidently.
I start to protest, "Oh, you don't have to—"
"I want to." He extends a hand to Ellie with a grin. “Let’s kick some butt.”
Ellie takes his hand but gives him a serious look. "We don't say 'butt'."
Jake's eyes twinkle with humor. "Oh, what should we say then? Booty? Bum? Tushy?" he asks, following her lead as they
navigate down the steps.
Her giggles echo back to me, a joyful sound that warms my heart as they blend into the crowd of excited participants.
From my spot in the stands, I watch Jake and Ellie line up with the other pairs on the field. Ellie is by far the smallest and the
youngest. And then there’s Jake. His height and broad shoulders make him stand out, but it's his natural ease and charm that
really catch my eye. As he bends down to tie their legs together, his shirt stretches across his well-defined muscles, hinting at
the strength underneath.
There's a raw, masculine energy about him that's impossible to ignore.
As they practice a few steps, Jake focuses entirely on Ellie. Watching him interact with her, I see a man who's not just
physically strong, but also kind and attentive. It's a combination that's both heartwarming and undeniably sexy.
Lost in thought, I'm startled when an older couple approaches me. The woman, her silver hair catching the stadium lights,
leans in.
"Excuse me, dear," she says softly, "I hope we're not intruding. We just couldn't help but notice what a beautiful family you
have."
I blink, momentarily taken aback. A part of me wants to explain, to set the record straight that Jake isn't... but I pause, her
words resonating in a way I hadn't expected.
"Thank you," I say instead, the words feeling surprisingly right as they leave my lips.
As the couple walks away, chatting amiably, my gaze returns to Jake and Ellie. For the first time in a long while, I allow
myself to imagine a future where love isn't just a distant, risky dream but a beautiful, tangible reality.
The race begins with a comical chaos that instantly draws laughter from the crowd. Jake and Ellie, their legs awkwardly tied
together, start with a series of uncoordinated hops that more closely resemble a dance than a race. Ellie's squeals of laughter
mix with Jake's encouraging chuckles as they find their rhythm amidst the madness.
Around them, other pairs are giving it their all. One pair takes a tumble, landing in a giggling heap, and there’s a father-son
duo that seems to have mastered the art of three-legged racing, moving with an almost unnatural synchronization.
Meanwhile, Jake and Ellie are the embodiment of joyful effort. They're not the fastest pair on the field, but they're
undoubtedly having the most fun. Each hop they take is a balance between moving forward and not falling over.
Their pace picks up in a final, comical dash. Jake's deep laughter rings out as they cross the line, a bit disheveled but
triumphant in their own right. He lifts Ellie, spinning her around in a victory dance that has her shrieking with joy. From my
seat, I'm laughing along with them, my heart light and full.
As the game's final innings play out, the atmosphere in the stadium shifts in anticipation of the fireworks show. The crowd’s
chatter rises in excitement, but I notice Ellie fidgeting beside me, her earlier enthusiasm dimming.
As the first fireworks explode in the sky, bright and loud, Ellie flinches, her small hand gripping mine tightly. "I don't like the
loud noises," she whispers, her eyes wide with apprehension.
 Jake, noticing her discomfort, leans in. "Hey, how about we skip the fireworks and head back?”
Ellie nods eagerly, relief evident in her eyes. "Can we, Mommy?"
"Of course, sweetheart," I reply, once again grateful for Jake's thoughtfulness.
As we make our way out of the stadium, the fireworks continue to burst overhead, painting the night sky in vibrant colors.
Ellie, still uneasy about the noise, stays close to Jake. Without a word, he scoops her up into a piggyback ride, her giggles
returning as she wraps her arms around his neck.
We navigate through the throngs of people, the sounds of the fireworks echoing around us. Jake moves confidently, his
strength and steadiness providing comfort to Ellie. Back at the car, Jake gently sets Ellie down, making sure she's okay before
helping her into her seat.
The drive home is enveloped in a peaceful quiet, a stark contrast to the excitement of the evening. Nestled in the backseat,
Ellie is gradually succumbing to sleep, her eyelids fluttering against the struggle to stay awake. Her soft, even breaths soon fill
the car.
In the front seat, Jake drives with confident ease, the dim light from the dashboard casting a gentle glow on his chiseled
features. When I look over, I catch a glimpse of his strong jawline and the focused intensity in his eyes, each glance sending a
ripple of attraction through me.
Without a word, he reaches over and gently takes my hand. His grasp is warm, firm yet gentle. Our intertwined fingers rest
on the center console, a silent acknowledgment of the connection we're both feeling.
“Thank you for tonight,” I say softly.
Jake glances at me, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "I should be thanking you and Ellie. It's been a long time since I've had
this much fun."
I chuckle despite the fluttering in my stomach. "It's been a while for us, too.”
He nods, his thumb caressing the back of my hand, but doesn’t speak, like he knows I need to get this out.
"After everything with Ellie's dad, I wasn't sure we'd ever have moments like this,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“He... well, he wasn't the man I thought he was. Leaving was hard, but it was the best decision for Ellie and me."
Jake's expression turns soft, understanding. "It takes courage to start over. But look at you now, doing amazing things for you
and Ellie."
I nod, feeling a warmth in his words, a sense of being seen. "What about you? Do you ever get lonely in that big house all by
yourself?" The question slips out before I can stop it, driven by the intimacy of the moment.
He's quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the road. "Yeah, sometimes," he finally admits. "I got used to my own company,
but nights like tonight remind me what I've been missing.”
The honesty in his voice resonates with me. We're two people, each with our pasts and wounds, finding comfort in each
other's company. It's a fragile, new thing, but it feels full of possibilities.
Jake pulls the car up my driveway and, before I can object, gets out and gently lifts Ellie from her booster seat.
“Lead the way,” he whispers as she settles against his shoulder, still sleeping.
He follows as I unlock the door and step inside. I lead him to her room, where he gently lays her down in her bed. The sight
of her, peaceful and safe in her own space, fills me with an overwhelming sense of contentment.
Back at the front door, there’s a pause, a lingering moment where the air between us feels charged with unspoken words and
emotions. He steps closer, and I can feel the warmth of his presence, the attraction that's been growing between us all evening.
He leans in slightly, his gaze flickering to my lips. My heart races, every instinct urging me to close the gap between us. But
just as the moment nears its peak, a surge of reality hits me. I think of Ellie, asleep just down the hall, and the vulnerability of
opening my heart again.
"I should..." I start, my voice trailing off as I look away.
"Yeah, of course," Jake quickly responds, stepping back to give me space. "Goodnight, Nadine."
"Goodnight, Jake," I reply, my voice tinged with regret and relief. He gives me one last warm, lingering look before turning
to leave.
I close the door softly behind him, leaning against it for support. My heart is still pounding, a cocktail of emotions swirling
within me—desire, fear, excitement, and caution. I touch my lips, the ghost of the almost-kiss lingering like a promise.
Through the window, I watch his car pull out. The quiet of the house envelops me, and I'm left alone with my thoughts. This
evening has shifted something inside me. The walls I've built around my heart, the barriers I thought were impenetrable, are
starting to crumble.
As I stand there, touching my lips and lost in thought, I know one thing for sure—our lives might never be the same again.
And despite the fear of the unknown, a part of me can't wait to see what happens next.
 Chapter 4

Jake

I glance at my sister, Lily, as we stand in front of Nadine's bakery. It's after hours, the street quiet except for the faint sound of
traffic on the main road. I hold a bag of greasy diner food in one hand and my cell phone in the other.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t call her first?” I ask, second-guessing our plan.
Lily rolls her eyes at me. “I’m positive, Jake. Who’s the expert here?”
“Neither one of us,” I answer, making her laugh. She gets herself a husband—who also happens to be my best friend—and
suddenly thinks she’s a love guru.
“Let me rephrase that,” she says. “I may not be an expert, but I am a woman, and I know what women want.”
“Which is what?”
“To be surprised. To be cared for. To be thought of,” she says, sounding almost wistful. “It could be a bag of greasy diner
food or a five-course meal. What matters is that you’re here.”
I hope she’s right. Nadine and I have been texting a lot, but she’s been so busy with the bakery that we haven’t been able to
see each other since the night of the baseball game. I got so desperate that I actually confided in Lily about her, which is why
she’s here now, being my wingman and a giant pain in my ass.
“Knock,” Lily demands.
But I hesitate, peering inside the glass storefront. The bakery’s interior is awash in soft pastel pinks and dotted with floral
accents, each detail meticulously placed. It's distinctly feminine, every inch of space carefully crafted.
As I’m watching, a small figure darts from the back, sliding across the shiny tile floors in socks. Ellie’s laughter rings out,
reaching me even through the closed door. Nadine really does have her hands full.
I tap on the glass door with one finger, hoping not to startle them. Ellie spins, and her whole face lights up when she spots
me.
“Mom, Jake’s here!” she calls, practically throwing herself at the door. She twists the lock and pushes it open, letting Lily
and me inside.
Nadine appears then, wiping her hands on a towel. A flour-dusted apron clings to her curves and her hair is pulled up in a
messy bun, a golden halo framing her beautiful face. The sight of her, so unguarded and real, strikes a chord in me.
“He is here,” Nadine says with a smile, her eyes darting down to the bag in my hand. “And I believe he comes bearing gifts.”
“For me?” Ellie asks, jumping up and down.
I push Lily forward. “Actually, I brought my sister for you. Lily is a real-life artist, if you can believe it.”
Lily takes her introduction in stride, introducing herself to Nadine and then crouching down in front of Ellie.
I take the opportunity to apprise Nadine of my plan. “For you, I brought dinner. I thought Lily and Ellie could hang out back at
the house while we have dinner and I can help you with whatever you need done around here.”
“Oh, Jake,” Nadine says, and I’m worried she’ll say no for a second, but then her face melts into a grateful smile. “That
sounds wonderful. Are you sure your sister is okay with it?”
Lily must have overheard because she stands up and takes Ellie’s hand. “More than okay with it.”
“She’s going to show me her best finger-painting techniques,” Ellie says seriously.
Nadine raises her eyebrows. “Well, that sounds like more fun than sock-sliding around the bakery.”
Ellie nods. “Definitely.”
“Ready?” Lily asks, and then, in a fake whisper, asks, “How do you feel about ice cream for dinner?”
Nadine laughs as Ellie gives her a hasty goodbye kiss, and then they’re gone, leaving just the two of us in the suddenly very
quiet bakery.
 “So,” she says, turning to me after a second. “What’s for dinner?”
I put the bag of food onto one of the bakery's tables. "It's from that diner on Main Street," I explain as I begin to unpack the
contents. "I got us my favorite—burgers and fries."
Nadine watches with a mix of amusement and curiosity as we sit. "I didn't take you for a greasy diner food kind of guy."
"Full of surprises," I reply with a half-smile. “What did you take me for?”
She unwraps her burger. “Grilled chicken and salad, I think. Maybe some roasted veggies.”
I stare at her in horror. “Am I really that bland?”
Her laughter soothes the sting of her words. “No, no, I just mean…” Her cheeks flush as she continues. “I just mean, you
don’t get muscles like those by eating like this every day.”
“Ah, fair point," I concede with a laugh of my own. "But I can't resist a good burger, especially after a long day. And, for the
record, I do eat my fair share of chicken and salads."
"Balance is key," she replies, nodding in agreement. "I try to teach Ellie that. Not easy with a six-year-old who thinks
chocolate is a food group."
“Well, you're doing a great job with her."
Nadine's expression softens. "It hasn't always been easy. After everything that happened with her dad, it was just the two of
us. I had to be strong for her." She pauses, her gaze distant for a moment. "It made me cautious, you know? About who I let into
our lives."
“Can I ask what exactly happened with her dad?”
“Oh, that’s a… a long story,” she says, clearly reluctant to talk about it.
I wave a hand in the air, dismissing it. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, I want to,” Nadine says, snatching my hand out of the air playfully. “I just haven’t really talked about it before.”
I squeeze her hand and don’t let go, hoping to reassure her.
"My ex was involved in some really bad stuff, criminal activities," she begins, her voice a bit shaky. "It was dangerous for
us to stay, but he found us every time I tried to leave. It was like we were trapped."
Her eyes hold a haunted look, one I've seen before in others I've helped as a cop. I feel my jaw clench, anger bubbling at the
thought of anyone harming her or Ellie. "I'm sorry you went through that," I say, my voice low.
She gives a small nod. "When my grant application for Just Desserts was approved, and he finally got locked up, I knew it
was my chance. We moved here, started over." Her voice holds a hint of triumph now, showing the resilience I've come to
admire in her.
"It must've been hard, constantly looking over your shoulder," I comment, trying to put myself in her shoes.
"It was," she admits. "But being here, in Larkspur, I finally feel safe."
I can't help but feel a surge of protectiveness for both her and Ellie. "You are safe,” I say firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Nadine smiles, and it's like the sun breaking through clouds. "I know.” She chews thoughtfully for a moment and then says,
“Your turn. Any sordid relationship history?”
I let out a low chuckle, the heaviness of our earlier conversation lifting slightly. "No, nothing like that," I reply, taking a bite
of my burger. "I've always been more of a lone wolf, I guess. Never really found someone who made me want to change that."
She raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her gaze. "Never?"
Shaking my head, I set my burger down, feeling unusually candid. "I've had relationships, sure. But nothing serious. Nothing
that made me think about the long haul. I've been focused on my job, my life here in Larkspur. It's been enough, until now."
Nadine's expression softens. "Until now?"
I hesitate, feeling a rare vulnerability. "Yeah, until now. Until you.” I pause, gauging her reaction. "It's not often you meet
someone who makes you think about the future in a different light."
“What do you think about the future?” she asks. “Where do you see yourself in a few years?”
I lean back, considering my words. "A few years ago, I would have said just here, doing my job, maybe making detective," I
start, tracing the rim of my drink with my finger. "But lately, I've started thinking there might be more to life than just work."
Nadine listens, her eyes locked on mine, encouraging me to continue.
"I guess I see a future where there's someone else in the picture. Someone to come home to, share the day's ups and downs
with. Maybe even a family, if the cards play out right." The words feel foreign, yet right, coming out of my mouth.
Her smile grows wider. "That sounds nice, Jake. A family, a home... it's what many of us hope for."
"Yeah," I reply, feeling a warmth spread through me at the thought. "What about you, Nadine? What's in your future, besides
the success of Just Desserts?"
She ponders the question, taking a slow sip of her drink. "I've been so focused on making a safe and stable life for Ellie, I
haven't thought much further than that. But I do dream of expanding the bakery, maybe writing a cookbook someday. And, of
course, giving Ellie the best life I can."
“But what about for you? Not for Ellie or the bakery. For you.”
Nadine pauses. "For me?" she echoes, as if the question is a novelty. "I suppose... I'd like to find someone who understands
me, someone I can share my dreams and fears with. Someone who doesn't just see me as a single mom or a bakery owner, but
as Nadine."
Her honesty strikes a chord in me. "That's not too much to ask for," I say softly.
Nadine looks up, meeting my gaze with a vulnerability that's both beautiful and brave. "It's been a long time since I've
allowed myself to think about personal happiness. It always seemed like a luxury I couldn't afford."
I reach across the table, covering her hand with mine. "You deserve happiness. You deserve to be seen and appreciated for
who you are."
Her hand turns under mine, her fingers intertwining with mine in a gentle clasp. "Thank you," she whispers, her smile
touching her eyes. "That means more than you know."
Sitting there, hand in hand, something shifts between us, and I realize with certainty that I want to be part of that future she's
hesitant to dream about.
But then, suddenly, she slips her hand from mine, standing abruptly with a forced smile. "Let me get us dessert," she says, her
voice a little too bright.
I watch her retreat to the kitchen, sensing the walls she's hastily rebuilding. "I'm actually pretty full," I call after her.
Instead, she calls back over her shoulder, “There’s always room for something sweet.”
Her evasion is a clear signal, but I can't let her just walk away, not when we've just scratched the surface of something more.
Standing up, I follow her into the kitchen, finding her by the counter, her back turned to me, fumbling with something.
"Nadine," I say softly as I approach. She doesn't turn around, her posture tense.
She lets out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. It's just... this is new for me. And a bit overwhelming."
I stop a few feet behind her, respecting her space but making my presence known. "I get it. It's new for me, too."
She finally turns to face me, her expression a mix of fear and longing. "I don't want to mess this up. I don't want to rush into
anything and..."
Before she can finish her sentence, I close the distance between us, placing my hands on either side of her face. Her words
fade into silence as our eyes lock, the air crackling with an electric current.
In that moment, time stands still. Every worry, every doubt dissolves into thin air, leaving only the raw intensity of our
connection. The kitchen fades away, replaced by a world composed solely of the two of us, suspended in a bubble of
anticipation and desire.
I can feel the rapid thumping of her heart as I lean in, capturing her lips with mine. The taste of her is sweet and intoxicating,
like the finest dessert served on a silver platter. This is more than a kiss; this is Nadine giving me her trust, letting down walls
she's built high and strong. I feel honored, keenly aware of the weight of what it means for her to let me in like this.
Her hands find their way to my chest, exploring the contours of my body with an unspoken hunger. It's as if every touch is a
revelation, an affirmation that this moment is real and meant to be. My own hands glide down, tracing the path from her neck to
the small of her back.
I lift her onto the cool metal countertop, and she wraps her legs around my waist, moaning softly into my mouth. Desire
courses through every fiber of my being. I slip my hand under her shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin as I trail my fingers up
her stomach, palming one of her luscious breasts and feeling her nipple harden.
Nadine's body responds so easily to my touch—her breath hitches, her lips part, and her hips rock gently against mine,
driving me fucking wild. It's a powerful, primal connection, and I can't help but groan in frustration when Nadine pulls away.
Her eyes search mine, a trace of uncertainty and vulnerability clouding them. "I'm not sure what I'm doing. I never thought I'd
let someone this close."
"I know," I say, my voice steady despite my racing heart. "But it's okay. We'll take it slowly. I'm here, for whatever this is, for
as long as you want me."
Nadine gives a small, almost shy smile, her eyes still holding mine as she slides off the counter and back to her feet. "You
mean it?" she asks softly.
"Every word," I assure her, feeling the truth of it resonate within me.
"Okay." With a nod, she steps back, glancing around the kitchen. "Now, about that dessert I promised..."
As Nadine goes for the dessert, I'm struck by the thought that no treat in her kitchen could ever outdo the rich sweetness of the
moment we just shared. It's more than just physical attraction; it’s a promise of something deeper, a connection I've been
craving without even realizing it.
 Chapter 5

Nadine

A sdifferent
we walk along the winding trail, I linger a few steps behind Jake and Ellie. They're engrossed in a game of spotting
types of birds, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves around us. Watching them, a sense of contentment
washes over me.
I can’t think of the last time I’ve been this happy.
Jake had come over right after his shift, still in his uniform, to invite us on a sunset hike on the trail he’d mentioned before,
the one that ran behind our neighborhood. Ellie's face lit up at the idea, and I couldn't say no, not that I wanted to.
Even though I told him I want to take it slow, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. I find myself replaying our
moments together, from the reassuring warmth of his hand in mine to the way my heart raced during our kiss the night before.
Oh, that kiss. It's etched into my senses—the feel of his lips, firm yet gentle against mine, the way his fingers burned against
my skin. It's this raw, physical memory that keeps replaying in my mind, each time reigniting the butterflies in my stomach,
reminding me of my growing attraction for him.
This intensity of emotion is unnerving, yet it’s exhilarating, too. I’ve spent so long building walls around my heart, focusing
solely on Ellie and the bakery, that this awakening of something deeper, something personal, feels both foreign and thrilling.
Jake isn’t just another person in my life; he’s becoming a part of my thoughts, my hopes, maybe even my future.
“Look, there!” Ellie’s shout brings my attention back to the trail, and I follow her gaze into the trees, where a bright red
cardinal sits on a branch.
Jake also sees it. “Good eye,” he tells her. “You know what they say about cardinals.”
“No, what?” Ellie asks.
“That cardinals appear when angels are near,” Jake quotes.
Ellie balances on a tree trunk and looks back at him. “Do you believe in angels?”
Jake pauses, his gaze lingering on the cardinal before turning to Ellie. "I think I do," he says thoughtfully. "Sometimes, it's
nice to think guardians are looking out for us."
Ellie seems to consider his words, her eyes wide with the wonder of a child who's just heard a beautiful secret.
"Do you think we have angels, Mommy?" Ellie's question pulls me into their conversation.
I step closer, joining them by the tree trunk. "I think we might," I answer, my voice soft. "Maybe they're watching over us
right now."
Ellie smiles, satisfied with our answers, and hops off the trunk. "Let's find more angel birds!" she declares, her enthusiasm
undimmed.
As we approach a clearing, Jake announces we've reached the perfect spot to watch the sunset. Ellie runs ahead, finding a
rock to climb on for a better view.
Turning to Jake, I'm met with his warm, blue eyes. "You were right; this is beautiful," I say, taking in the sprawling canvas of
colors painting the sky.
He stands close. "It's even better with you two here," he says softly. “My angels.” Jake's hand finds mine, and I don't pull
away. Instead, I let myself enjoy the connection, the feeling of being cared for and understood.
We stand together, watching the sky change colors, the world around us quiet except for Ellie's delighted chatter. With the sun
setting and the cool evening air around us, I feel a sense of possibility, a hint of something new and hopeful on the horizon.
The walk back home goes much quicker, especially when Jake hoists Ellie onto his shoulders so that she stops pausing every
three steps to examine some leaf or bug. Perched high on Jake's shoulders, she’s a picture of joy, her hands occasionally
reaching up to grab at low-hanging branches, her laughter echoing in the quiet evening.
 As we reach my house, I'm surprised to see a familiar car in the driveway. Before I can put two and two together, the car
door opens, and a figure steps out.
Estelle stands there, her fiery red hair in a messy bun, wearing a faded jean jacket over a bright floral dress that clashes in
the most Estelle way possible. Her vibrant personality is as unmistakable as her bold fashion choices.
"Girl, where have you been?" Estelle’s voice rings out through the otherwise quiet night as she props her hands on her hips
and glares at us.
“Stellie!” Ellie squeals, squirming until Jake sets her down and she races for our old neighbor.
“Ellie!” Estelle swings my daughter off her feet and spins in a wild circle.
Estelle's style is a sharp contrast to the suburban calm of my new neighborhood. She's always been unapologetically herself
—a bit crass but with a heart of gold. "Nadine! Look at you, living the fancy life now!" she exclaims, her voice loud and
cheerful.
I can't help but laugh as I hug her. "It's not that fancy, Estelle. But it's home."
Estelle's eyes then fall on Jake, and her expression shifts to one of playful curiosity. "And who's Mr. Tall, Dark, and
Handsome?"
Jake extends his hand, unfazed by her directness. "I'm Jake. Nice to meet you, Estelle."
She looks at me, her eyebrows raised. “The hot neighbor?”
“Oh, God,” I murmur, burying my face in my hands as Jake laughs.
Ellie has already disappeared into the house, so I invite Estelle and Jake inside. Estelle's gaze sweeps over the cozy space
as we move into the living room. "This is really nice, girl. You've come a long way."
I can feel Jake's curious eyes on us, and I know I owe him some explanation. "Estelle and I used to live in the same
apartment building," I start, settling beside Estelle on the couch while Jake takes a nearby chair. "She was... well, she was my
guardian angel."
“Hardly an angel,” Estelle snorts. "But someone had to have your back."
It's true. During the toughest times, when my ex-husband's behavior was at its worst, Estelle was there. She didn't just offer
sympathy; she was a fierce protector, ready to step in whenever things got too heated. More than once, she'd been the one to
calm the storms he'd leave in his wake.
Jake nods. "Sounds like you were exactly what Nadine needed," he says, his tone respectful.
Estelle waves a hand dismissively. "Nah, I just don't tolerate bullies. Nadine here, she's stronger than she looks. Aren't you,
girly?"
I smile, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. "I had to be strong, for Ellie."
"And now you've got a new start," Estelle says, glancing between me and Jake. "And maybe a new man?"
“God, Estelle, have you ever heard of subtlety?” I groan.
“Heard of it,” Estelle says with a nod. “Don’t know much about it.”
We all laugh, even Jake, who seems completely unbothered by her frankness. Then, Estelle hands me a wrapped package, her
eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Got something for your fancy new place."
I unwrap the gift to find a quirky, vintage teapot, its bright, mismatched patterns somehow fitting perfectly with Estelle's
personality. I burst out laughing, the sight of it bringing back a flood of memories.
To Jake, I explain, "Estelle and I used to have this running joke about my terrible old kettle at the apartment. It was so loud
and obnoxious, just like..." I glance at Estelle, who's grinning.
"Just like me!" she finishes, laughing. "Figured this one's a step up but still has enough character to remind you of me."
Jake chuckles, clearly amused. "Sounds like you two had quite the time."
Estelle's attention shifts back to Jake. "So, Officer Jake, while Nadine puts on some tea, why don’t you tell me some more
about yourself.”
I can take a hint. Leaving them to talk, I move into the kitchen, where I fill the new teapot with water and set it on the stove,
my mind half on the task and half on the conversation unfolding in the living room. Estelle's loud and unfiltered voice drifts
through the doorway, punctuated by Jake's deeper, more measured responses. I can't help but smile; Estelle's always had the
ability to draw people out, whether they're ready for it or not.
Leaning against the counter, I listen as Estelle quizzes Jake.
"So, a cop, huh? What made you choose that line of work?"
Jake’s response is tinged with a note of reflection. "I guess I've always wanted to make a difference, help people. It's not
always easy, but it's worth it."
Estelle's laughter follows. "Nadine's got herself a real-life knight in shining armor."
There's a pause, then Jake's voice again, lighter this time. "I don't know about that. I just do what I can."
My mind wanders as I watch the pot, thinking about how Estelle was there for me during some of my darkest days. She was
more than just a neighbor; fierce and unyielding, her presence in my life constantly reassured me that I wasn't alone.
 And now there's Jake. He's kind, considerate, and he's been wonderful with Ellie. He's everything I didn't know I was
looking for. My attraction for him is undeniable, but it's more than just physical. It's in the way he listens, the way he cares, the
way he's slowly becoming a part of our lives.
The whistle of the teapot pulls me back to the present. I pour the steaming water into cups, add tea bags, and carry them into
the living room just in time to catch Estelle's next question. "And how did you two meet? Was it love at first sight, or did
Nadine play hard to get?"
Jake accepts the cup of tea I offer him, our fingers brushing briefly. "We actually met when Nadine called the police about a
noise outside her house. Turned out to be nothing, but I guess it was a lucky call for me."
Estelle winks at me. "Sounds like fate to me. You believe in that stuff, Nadine? Fate, destiny?"
I settle onto the couch, tucking my feet beneath me. "I'm not sure," I admit. "But sometimes things happen that make you
wonder."
As Estelle sips her tea, she turns to me, her expression softer. "You deserve all the happiness, Nadine. After everything
you've been through."
I feel a warmth spread through me, both from her words and from Jake's presence beside me. "Thanks, girl. It's been a long
road, but things are looking up."
The conversation drifts to lighter topics—Estelle's latest escapades, our shared memories from the apartment building, and
funny anecdotes from Jake's work. As we talk and laugh, the blend of past and present feels surprisingly comfortable, like
different parts of a story coming together seamlessly.
Sitting there with Estelle and Jake, for the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
An hour or so later, Estelle stands, stretching and yawning. "Alright, I better get going. I’ve got to get my beauty sleep," she
jokes, her eyes crinkling with laughter.
I walk her to the door, thanking her again for the visit and the gift. "Take care. And thank you, for everything."
She gives me a tight hug. "Anytime. You know where to find me." With a final wave, she heads out into the night.
Once she’s gone, I quietly check on Ellie, peeking into her room. She's sound asleep, her chest rising and falling gently, a
peaceful expression on her face. I watch her for a moment, then softly close the door.
Returning to the living room, I notice Jake isn't there. At first, I think he’s gone back home, but a faint light from the back
porch catches my eye, and I find him outside, sitting in a lounge chair, his gaze fixed on the starry sky.
I step out, the cool night air brushing against my skin. He pats the chair beside him, and I sit down, but instead of looking at
the stars, I find myself drawn to his profile, the way the moonlight accentuates his features.
“Jake, can we talk?” I ask quietly.
His gaze immediately finds mine. “Of course. What’s up?”
I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. "I know I said I wanted to take it slow, but..." My voice trails off as I search for
the right words.
"But what?" Jake prompts, his gaze steady on me.
“I’m tired of being scared.” I meet his eyes, feeling a surge of boldness. "I want to be with you. Really be with you." The
words feel liberating, a true expression of what's been building inside me.
There's a moment's pause, and then something shifts in Jake's expression. Without a word, he reaches out, gently guiding me
toward him. I move closer, and he pulls me into his lap.
His arms wrap around me securely, and I feel his heart beating against mine. He looks into my eyes, and there's a depth of
emotion there that mirrors my own.
"I've been hoping you'd say that," he says, his voice low and full of emotion.
Before I can respond, he leans in, and our lips meet in a fervent kiss. I shift in his lap so that I'm straddling him, and his
hands slip under my shirt, pressing against the small of my back. My hands find their way up to his face, tangling in his hair,
feeling the warmth of his body and his mouth, wanting nothing more than to be as close to him as possible.
As our kiss deepens, Jake's fingers find their way to the waistband of my jeans, and I feel a surge of desire and anticipation.
He gently tugs at the button, releasing the catch.
"Is that okay?" he asks, and his rough yet tender tone sends shivers down my spine.
"Yes," I murmur against his mouth, pushing my hips toward his. This isn't just about giving in to desire; it's about choosing
my happiness and embracing what I want without fear. I feel bold, in control, as I urge him on, a stark contrast to the
apprehension that once held me back.
This moment is mine, ours, a step I take willingly, a choice that marks my strength, not my weakness.
As he reaches into the front of my jeans, his mouth moves down my neck, kissing, licking, and sucking on the sensitive skin.
The sensations are overwhelming, and I arch my back, yearning for more. His teeth scrape against my nipples, causing them to
harden under his touch.
"Jake," I gasp, tugging at his hair.
He grins wolfishly up at me. "Shh," he says, "you don't want to wake the neighbors." As he presses his fingers against my
underwear, he asks, "Do you think you can be quiet for me?"
Biting my lip, I nod, but honestly, I'll agree to anything at this point as long as he doesn't stop. As I capture his mouth in
another deep kiss, I feel a profound sense of trust and safety, a realization that with him, I can be fully myself.
He strokes my slit through my panties, from my entrance to my clit, making me squirm in his lap.
"Lift up your shirt," he demands in a hoarse whisper. I obey, lifting my shirt to my neck and flipping the cups of my bra,
exposing my breasts.
Jake's eyes darken as he takes in the sight, his gaze lingering on my erect nipples. He leans in to kiss them, sucking and
licking, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through me as his fingers continue to tease me through my panties.
"You're so wet for me, Nadine," he whispers, his voice barely audible in the night air. "So hot."
"Oh, my God, Jake," I murmur as his thumb circles my clit. My eyes drift closed, my body craving more of his touch as I fall
apart in his arms, surrendering to the feelings I've held back. "Don't stop."
"I won't," he promises. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you," I whimper, grinding against his hand. "I want more."
He groans at my words, leaning his forehead against mine. "I'm yours," he says. "All fucking yours."
His fingers slip beneath my panties now, and I gasp as he finds my entrance. He slowly slides one finger inside, then two,
stretching me open as I moan into his mouth. His thumb continues to circle my clit, driving me wild. I do my best not to cry out
as my hips buck in time with his movements.
"I'm going to make you come," he says, his voice low and husky, sending another shiver through me. "Are you ready?"
"Yes," I breathe, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. "Make me come, Jake." I feel myself nearing the
edge, the sweet ache building in my core.
“Remember, you have to stay quiet,” he says, his hand punishingly still.
“Yes,” I breathe again. I press my lips to his, our tongues twining as he begins to finger me in earnest, his movements rapid
and precise.
My body responds instantly, trembling with need, and I let out a shuddering sigh, arching my back as I begin to climax. Wave
after wave of pleasure washes over me, leaving me breathless and gasping. I throw my head back, my hair cascading over my
shoulders, as I ride out the most intense orgasm I've ever experienced. Jake's fingers continue to work their magic, milking
every last drop of pleasure from me as I cling to him.
When my orgasm subsides, I pull back from him, gasping for air, my heart pounding in my chest. Jake's eyes are dark and
hungry, so different from the man I knew before.
"Wow," I say, my voice barely audible. "I've never felt like that before."
His slow, contented smile tells me he's just as affected by our encounter. "You're incredible, Nadine. You deserve to feel like
this all the time."
His words, simple yet profound, resonate within me, igniting a warm glow that spreads throughout my body. For a moment,
we just sit under the starlit sky, basking in the afterglow of our newfound intimacy.
Then, gathering my thoughts, I stand up. "I should probably go in," I say, reluctant yet aware of the late hour and the reality
waiting for us in the morning.
Jake nods, understanding. He stands as well, his movements mirroring mine. "Yeah, it's late. And Ellie..." He trails off, his
concern for my daughter evident in his voice.
I appreciate his thoughtfulness, the way he considers Ellie in all of this. "She's asleep, but yeah, mornings with her are
early."
We walk together to the back door, our steps slow, neither of us eager to end the night. At the door, I turn to face him, the
porch light casting a soft glow around us. He reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Thank you, Nadine, for letting me in, for taking a chance with me."
There's a promise in his touch, a silent vow of something deeper, something real. I nod, a smile playing on my lips.
"Goodnight, Jake."
"Goodnight," he replies, his voice warm and low.
He waits until I'm inside before he turns to leave, heading back to his house. I watch him go, feeling a sense of peace and
excitement for what's to come.
Closing the door, I lean against it for a moment, allowing myself to absorb the events of the evening. It's been a night of
revelations, of breaking down barriers and exploring new paths. As I head to bed, I feel a sense of contentment, a readiness for
whatever lies ahead. With Jake, with Ellie, with my new life…
I'm ready to embrace it all.
 Chapter 6

Jake

T heandsunI arebeats down relentlessly, turning the backyard into a sweltering workshop. My brother-in-law and best friend, Ethan,
deep in the midst of sawing and hammering, the shed gradually transforming under our hands. It's a pet project I've
taken on—a playhouse for Ellie. I want it to be a surprise, a special gift to show them they're part of my world now.
Ethan pauses to wipe the sweat off his brow. "Man, you're really going all out."
I can't help but smile back, despite the heat. "Yeah, well, Ellie's a great kid. And Nadine... she deserves some good in her
life."
“Never thought I'd see Jake Ward turning into a family man,” Ethan teases, but there's a note of respect in his voice.
"People change. Priorities change," I reply, marking a spot on a plank. I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be part
of someone's life, really be a part of it. Nadine and Ellie have opened up a side of me I didn't know was there.
Ethan looks at me with a hint of skepticism. "So, this is more than just a fling?”
“It is,” I confess.
I shake my head, trying to concentrate on the measurements, but my mind keeps drifting back to Nadine. The feel of her lips
against mine, soft and inviting. The way her body responded to my touch and moved against me. Those moments of intimacy
weren't just physical; they stirred something deeper within me, something I hadn't felt in a long time.
I've always been the guy who kept things simple, who avoided complications. But with Nadine, it's different. She makes me
rethink what I want in life, what it means to really connect with someone. And it's not just her; Ellie's become a part of that,
too. The thought of those two, with their laughter and warmth, brings a sense of fulfillment I didn't know I was missing.
Ethan's voice breaks into my reverie. "You're miles away, man. Everything okay?"
I snap back to reality, gripping the hammer a little tighter. "Yeah, just thinking. I never planned for any of this. It just
happened, and now, I can't imagine things going back to how they were."
Ethan claps a hand on my shoulder. "Take it from me,” he says. “Sometimes the best things in life are the ones you never see
coming."
I nod, feeling a sense of resolve. I'm going to finish this playhouse, and then, I'm going to tell Nadine just how much she and
Ellie mean to me.
The rhythmic sound of sawing and hammering fills the air as Ethan and I work in tandem. Our conversation about Nadine and
Ellie lingers in my mind, adding an undercurrent of anticipation to each stroke.
Suddenly, Ethan straightens up, nodding toward the yard. "Looks like you've got company," he says with a sly grin.
I turn, and there she is, Nadine, crossing our yards with a couple of water bottles in hand. Her presence, unexpected and
delightful, sends a jolt through me. She's dressed casually, her hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, and yet, she looks
effortlessly beautiful.
"I saw you working from my window and thought you might need these," Nadine says, her smile as warm as the afternoon sun
as she offers us two cold bottles of water.
I wipe my hands on my jeans, trying to still the sudden nervous energy inside me. "Thanks, Nadine. That's really thoughtful of
you," I manage to say, taking the water bottle she offers.
Ethan takes his with a nod and a thank you, his eyes flickering between us with unspoken amusement.
“Aren't you supposed to be at the bakery today?" I ask, trying and probably failing to sound casual.
"I was, but the electrician came by to do some last-minute touches, so I decided to give myself a bit of a break.” Nadine's
gaze shifts to the shed, curiosity lighting up her eyes. "What are you guys up to here?"
Panic knots in my stomach. The playhouse is far from finished, and I can't let her know what it is yet. It has to be a surprise.
 "Oh, uh, just a small project," I manage. “Turning the old shed back into my man cave now that my sister moved out."
Nadine's smile falters slightly, her brow furrowing. "A man cave, huh? Sounds like exactly what a bachelor pad needs."
Ethan coughs, barely concealing a chuckle. "Yeah, Jake's decided he needs a space to escape from... well, everything."
She takes a step back, her smile now more polite than warm. "Well, I won't keep you from your... project. I should get back.”
She hesitates, then adds, “I guess I’ll see you around, Jake.”
As she turns to leave, I feel a pang of regret. The last thing I wanted was to make her feel like she's not welcome or that I'm
hiding something from her. But that's exactly what it looks like.
"Damn it," I groan under my breath, turning back to the half-finished playhouse. I throw the hammer down on the workbench
a little harder than I intend.
Ethan, sensing my mood, puts down his tools. "That didn't go as planned, huh?"
"No, it didn't," I admit, running a hand through my hair. "I just... I didn't want to ruin the surprise. And now she thinks I'm
some asshole bachelor with a man cave."
"You're not, though," Ethan says, his voice reassuring. "She'll see that soon enough. It will make the surprise that much
sweeter."
I nod, though doubt lingers. "I have to finish this playhouse. It's got to be perfect."
Ethan nods, picking up his tools again. "Let's do it, then. We'll get this done in no time."
For the next few hours, we throw ourselves into the task with a newfound intensity. Every measurement, every cut, and every
nail feels like a step toward redemption. My thoughts swirl around Nadine and Ellie, fueling my efforts. I imagine Ellie's
laughter filling this little haven, Nadine's smile as she watches her daughter play. It has to be perfect.
The playhouse takes shape quickly under our combined efforts. We paint the exterior a cheerful yellow, the trim a crisp
white. I carefully install small, clear windows and hang light, airy curtains. Ethan works on fitting a tiny, handcrafted door,
complete with a whimsical doorknob.
As the sun begins to dip, casting golden hues over our work, the playhouse stands complete. It's more than just a structure; it's
a testament to my feelings, a silent promise to Nadine and Ellie.
Ethan steps back, wiping his hands on a rag. "She's going to love this, Jake. You did good."
I nod, surveying our work. The playhouse is exactly as I envisioned—a cozy, enchanting space that I hope will bring joy to
Ellie and show Nadine the depth of my commitment.
"Thanks, Ethan. Couldn't have done it without you," I say, genuine gratitude in my voice.
He claps me on the back. "Anytime, brother. Now, go make things right with her."
As Ethan gathers his tools and leaves, I head inside to call Nadine. The phone rings once, twice, a third time. With each ring,
my heart sinks a little more. Come on, Nadine, pick up.
But it goes to voicemail. Her cheerful voice, asking callers to leave a message, only deepens the knot in my stomach. I
hesitate, then hang up without leaving a message.
My kitchen window offers a clear view of Nadine's house. Her car is in the driveway and lights are on, so I know she’s
there; she just doesn’t want to talk to me. And I can’t really blame her. My attempt at keeping a surprise has only driven a
wedge between us. I should've known better. Nadine's past and struggles have made her cautious, and rightly so. And what did
I do? I gave her more reasons to doubt, to pull away.
I glance at the playhouse outside, its cheerful yellow paint gleaming in the fading sunlight. It's a stark reminder of what I
stand to lose. I can't let this misunderstanding fester. I need to explain, to show her what I was really up to. To prove to her that
I’m not just another disappointment waiting to happen.
My thoughts are interrupted by a slight movement outside Nadine's house. It's just a silhouette against the dimming light, and I
narrow my eyes, trying to focus in the darkness. The figure, more distinct now, moves with purpose around the side of Nadine's
house, heading toward the back. My heart skips a beat. That's not right. People don't just wander into someone else's backyard
uninvited.
Memories of the first night we met and of Nadine's stories about her past send a chill down my spine. She's worked so hard
to build a safe, stable life for Ellie.
Without a second thought, I grab my jacket, where my badge and service weapon are always ready. My protective instincts,
both as a cop and as someone who deeply cares for Nadine and Ellie, surge to the forefront.
I can't let anything happen to them, not on my watch.
I break into a run, my footsteps echoing in the quiet of the night. The distance to Nadine's back door seems to stretch out
before me.
Every second counts now.
 Chapter 7

Nadine

I 'mwarm
nestled on the couch, a half-read novel in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other. The soft glow of the lamp casts a
light across the room. I take a sip of wine, its rich flavor barely registering. My mind is elsewhere, tangled in thoughts
of Jake. I'd been ready to open up, to let him in, and what does he do? Starts building a man cave.
The irony isn't lost on me.
I try to focus on the words in my book, but they blur together, meaningless. Instead, Jake's face swims into view, that easy
smile, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. How could I have misread the signs so badly? Was I that desperate for a
connection, for someone to share the load of life with?
Setting the book down, I lean back against the soft cushions. My heart feels heavy, laden with a familiar disappointment. This
is supposed to be a new chapter, a fresh start. Yet here I am, falling into old patterns, trusting too easily, hoping for a fairy tale
ending.
A sense of foolishness washes over me. I was ready to leap, to commit to something real with Jake. But clearly, he wasn't on
the same page. Maybe it's time to face the truth—not everyone is looking for a happy ending, and maybe, just maybe, I should
start protecting my heart a little more.
Just as I'm about to sink further into my thoughts, a loud crash jolts me upright. The book tumbles from my lap as I whip my
head toward the sound. My heart leaps into my throat. There, in the doorway, stands a masked man. The back door hangs open,
its lock shattered.
For a moment, time seems to freeze. The man steps forward, a weapon glinting in his hand. Panic grips me, icy and sharp.
This can't be happening.
Instinctively, I stand, my body tensing. Every scary possibility races through my mind. Is he here to rob me? Hurt me? My
thoughts flash to Ellie, but then I remember, she's not here. She's safe, at a friend's house. That thought, at least, offers a sliver
of relief amid the terror.
I glance quickly around the room, looking for something, anything, I could use to defend myself. But what? A wine glass? A
throw pillow? They seem ridiculously inadequate against a weapon.
When I finally find it, my voice is a mixture of fear and defiance. "What do you want?" I demand, trying to sound braver than
I feel.
The man doesn't answer, just takes another step forward, his intentions unclear but undoubtedly dangerous. My heart pounds
so loudly I can hear it in my ears. I have to do something, but what? Run? Fight?
I take a small step back, my back pressing against the couch. I'm cornered, trapped. The reality of the situation hits me like a
physical blow. This is real. This is happening. And I'm terrifyingly unprepared.
"Where is it?" the man demands.
Confusion mingles with my fear. "Where's what?" I stammer, my mind racing.
"The stash," he growls, gesturing with his weapon. "He said it would be here.”
It takes me a moment to process his words, and when I do, a cold realization washes over me. He's talking about my ex.
"There's nothing here," I say firmly, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "Whatever he told you, it's a lie.”
As the intruder's gaze hardens, I can see the desperation etching deeper into his features. His grip on the weapon tightens, his
knuckles whitening. For a fleeting moment, our eyes lock, and I see something that chills me to the core—a resignation, as if he
has nothing left to lose.
The barrel of the gun begins to rise, slowly, inevitably, aiming straight at me. My breath catches in my throat, and time slows
to a crawl. I think of Ellie, her laughter, her bright future, and how I might never get to see her grow up. My heart pounds
against my chest, each beat a silent plea for more time.
But then, in a blur of motion, Jake is there. He emerges like a force of nature, his presence a sudden whirlwind of action and
resolve. Without a moment's hesitation, he lunges at the intruder, tackling him to the ground before the gun can fully rise in my
direction.
The two men struggle on the floor, a tangle of limbs and grunts. Jake's larger frame dominates, his training as an officer
evident in every calculated move. In a swift, fluid motion, he manages to wrestle the weapon from the intruder's grip, tossing it
far out of reach.
The intruder thrashes under Jake's hold, but it's clear who has the upper hand. Jake pins him down, his arm locked around the
man's neck, immobilizing him. The danger isn't over, but the immediate threat is contained.
I'm still frozen, watching the scene unfold with a mix of horror and disbelief. My mind struggles to catch up with the reality
—Jake, here, saving me. My knight-in-shining-armor. My guardian angel. His protective instinct is so fierce, so
unquestionable. It's a side of him I've never seen before, and it both frightens and reassures me.
Jake's voice cuts through the chaos, calm and authoritative. "Stay down! Don't move," he commands, his gaze briefly meeting
mine. "Nadine, are you okay?"
I nod, my voice a shaky whisper. "Yes, I think so." My legs feel like jelly, the adrenaline surge leaving me weak.
“Where’s Ellie?”
“She’s not here,” I assure him. “She’s at a friend’s house.”
Hearing the distant sound of sirens growing louder, I realize Jake must have called for backup before coming in. I'm grateful
for that, grateful for him.
The police arrive in minutes that feel like hours, their lights flashing through the windows. Officers flood the room, taking
over the scene. Jake finally stands, allowing them to handcuff the intruder and lead him away.
The officers begin their questions, and I answer mechanically, my mind still reeling. But one thought lingers above all—how
quickly things can change, how suddenly the safe can become unsafe.
And yet, in the midst of it all, Jake's strong and protective presence anchors me in the storm. His concern for Ellie, his quick
thinking, it all crystallizes something deep inside me—a profound gratitude mixed with an unexpected, growing dependency on
him.
Maybe that's why the man cave bothers me so much. The more I find myself relying on him, the scarier it becomes. It's the
thought of reaching out for him in a moment of need and finding that door closed. It's a terrifying realization, to need someone
so much, but in the echo of my racing heart, it's unmistakably there.
The last of the police officers close the door behind them, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. Jake turns to me, his
expression shifting from that of an authoritative officer to one of deep concern.
"You can't stay here tonight, not with the door like that. Pack a bag, you're coming over to my place. You’ll be safe there."
I stand still, staring at him. The turmoil of the evening clashes with the frustration that's been brewing inside me. "Safe?" I
start, my voice laced with a mix of anger and disbelief. "Lucky for me, you weren’t escaping from me into your man cave."
He looks taken aback, his brows furrowing. "Nadine, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to escape. I was building something, a
surprise, for you and Ellie."
"A surprise?" I echo, a flicker of hope igniting within me.
He nods earnestly. "I can't explain it right here. Can I show you?"
There's a pause, a moment where the gravity of the evening weighs down on me, yet his request sparks curiosity. "Okay,
show me," I reply, still unsure, still reeling from the night's events.
We walk together into the cool night, crossing into his backyard. My eyes are drawn to the shed, its doors closed, hiding
whatever secret Jake has been keeping.
He pauses before the shed, his hand on the door. "I didn’t show you earlier because I wanted it to be perfect.”
He pulls the doors open. In the dim backyard light, the shed’s interior looks almost magical. The walls are painted in soft
pastels, each corner a burst of gentle color, and the floor is covered with soft, cushiony mats. Above, the ceiling is dotted with
glow-in-the-dark stars, promising a galaxy of adventures in the night. Shelves on the walls hold an array of children's books,
plush toys, and simple games, each carefully chosen and placed.
"It's a playhouse," I breathe out, my voice a mixture of surprise and awe. "For Ellie?"
Jake nods, watching my reaction closely. I step closer, examining the meticulous work and attention to detail. It's beautiful, a
child's dream realized in vibrant colors and whimsical design.
"Jake, this is... incredible," I say, turning to face him. "You built all this?"
He nods, pride in his smile. "Yeah. I thought it would be a good surprise, a way to show you and Ellie how much you mean
to me."
The realization of how wrong I had been about his intentions washes over me. "I thought you were pushing us away," I admit,
my voice softening.
"I was trying to pull you closer," he says. "I'm sorry I let you believe otherwise."
 I look back at the playhouse, then at Jake, seeing him in a new light. "It's more than I ever expected. Ellie will love it."
"And you?" he asks, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.
"I love it too," I reply, the tension of the night easing.
Jake steps in closer, the look in his eyes resolute and unwavering. "Nadine," he says, his voice firm but gentle, "you've been
doing everything on your own for too long. It's time you had someone to share the load, someone who's got your back."
I feel a shiver run down my spine at his assertive tone, a mix of relief and excitement stirring within me.
"I'm not just talking about being a good neighbor or a friend here," he continues, his hand finding mine, his grip strong yet
tender. "I'm talking about being there for you, being a part of your life. You and Ellie."
His words, spoken with such conviction, resonate with a part of me that's been longing to hear them. The part that craves not
just assistance, but a partnership, a presence that's both supportive and empowering.
"I want to be that person for you," he declares, his gaze locking onto mine, leaving no room for doubt. "Let me take care of
you."
His offer, so genuine and protective, is exactly what I need. Standing there in the soft glow of the backyard lights, I realize
how much Jake's actions tonight have meant. The playhouse, his swift intervention, his concern—they've all spoken louder than
any words could.
Slowly, he leans down, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. I meet him halfway, closing the gap between us.
Our kiss is gentle, a tentative exploration of the new understanding between us. It's a kiss that speaks of apologies, of promises,
and of new beginnings.
As we pull away, there's a sense of something shifting, a bond strengthening. The night's events have brought us closer,
revealing truths and deepening our connection.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I gaze up into his eyes and say, “Take me home, Jake.”
 Chapter 8

Jake

A s we"You're
step into my house, the door clicks shut behind us.
safe here," I say, but it's more than just words. It's everything I want to offer her—protection, comfort, and
something that's been simmering between us since we met.
She looks up at me, and there's no mistaking the heat in her eyes. It's the same fire I feel, burning through all the barriers
we've put up until now.
"I don't want to be alone tonight," she says, her voice low and steady.
My hands find her waist, drawing her against me. "You won't be," I reply, my voice low. The connection is immediate,
electric.
Nadine's hands slide up my chest, her fingers tracing the lines of my shoulders. I can feel the heat of her breath, the softness
of her hair as I lean down, our faces inches apart. There's no hesitation, only a deep, mutual longing.
Our lips crash together in a kiss that's raw and urgent. It's like all the tension and fear from tonight are pouring out. She kisses
me back fiercely, her arms looping around my neck, pulling me down to her. The kiss gets deeper, hungrier. It's not just about
comfort now; it's about a need that's been building since we met, hidden beneath layers of caution.
She pulls away breathlessly. “Where’s the bedroom?” she asks. “Unless you want me to strip you down here in the hallway.”
I can’t help but chuckle at her forwardness. “I wouldn’t stop you,” I admit, but I still grab her hand and lead her upstairs.
Opening the door to my bedroom, I usher her in. The moonlight streams through the window, casting a soft, natural glow over
the room and Nadine, highlighting her curves, making her even more irresistible.
Her gaze meets mine, and she tilts her head back, her lips parting slightly, an invitation I can't and don't want to refuse. I
capture her luscious mouth in another heated kiss, my tongue stroking hers as I walk her backward. When her knees hit the edge
of the bed and she sits, bouncing slightly on the mattress, I take the opportunity to pull her shirt off over her head, revealing her
beautiful, bare tits.
My hands find her nipples, stroking and teasing them as I lean down and take one into my mouth. She gasps, her back arching,
her fingers curling into my shoulders as she presses against me. Her body responds to my touch, her skin flushing pink with
desire.
"Oh, my God," she murmurs, her voice catching. I look up at her face and see her eyes are closed, her lips parted, a look of
pure ecstasy etched onto her features.
Her hands grip my hair, pulling me closer, her nails digging into my scalp. The sensation sends a surge of pleasure through
me, and I redouble my efforts, sucking harder, my tongue swirling around her nipple.
Meanwhile, my own desire is growing, my cock straining against the denim of my pants. I want her, need her, and it feels like
an eternity before I finally manage to wrench myself away, breaking the kiss so I can undo my jeans.
I strip off my clothes, my eyes never leaving her, and as I stand before her naked, the sight of me drives a shiver through her.
She licks her lips, her eyes locked onto my erection.
"I want you so much, Jake," she says, her voice breathy as she grasps my cock and starts to stroke.
I can't speak. The feeling of her hands on me is driving me insane. I've never wanted anyone so badly, and I can barely
breathe, barely think.
Her lips wrap around the head of my cock, taking me into her mouth, her tongue licking along the shaft as she sucks. Her
hands move faster, stroking and pumping me, bringing me to the edge.
But before I can tip over, I gently push her away. The sight of her before me, her tits bare and bouncing as she looks up at me,
her eyes full of hunger, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
 "Not yet," I manage to say, my voice hoarse. "I want to taste you first."
I ease her back onto the bed, and her legs spread open for me. I can see her arousal glistening in the moonlight, and I dip my
head down, running my tongue up her slit, tasting her sweetness.
"Mmm, that's it," she groans, her hands gripping the sheets. "Oh, yes..."
Her hips rock, her body trembling with need as I lap at her pussy, my tongue teasing her clit, her juices dripping onto my lips.
It feels incredible. Her wetness is intoxicating, and I can tell she's as turned on as I am.
I dive in deeper, my tongue exploring the folds of her pussy, circling her clit in little flicks. She gasps, her hips bucking
against my face, driving me mad with desire.
"Oh, Jake!" she cries out, her voice high-pitched. "I'm close!"
I slip two fingers inside her, curling them upward, and she shudders, her thighs tightening around me, her orgasm ripping
through her.
I'm so turned on, it's taking every ounce of willpower I have to keep from burying myself inside her. I need her, need to feel
her pussy wrapped around my cock, but I want to prolong this moment. So I hold back, letting her ride out her orgasm, her cries
echoing off the walls.
When her climax subsides, she looks up at me, her breathing ragged. Her eyes are glassy, her lips swollen and red.
"I want you inside me," she whispers, her voice husky.
I can't resist any longer. My cock is aching, throbbing, and I position myself between her legs, the head of my shaft nudging
her entrance.
She bites her lower lip, her eyes locked onto mine, as I slowly ease into her.
Her muscles clench around me, gripping me tightly as I push deeper. I groan softly, relishing the feeling of her warmth and
tightness enveloping me. She gasps, her body arching as I finally fill her completely. Our eyes lock, and I can see the desire
burning in hers, mirroring my own.
"Oh, Jake," she moans, her nails digging into my shoulders. "You feel so good."
I start to thrust, my hips rocking slowly, savoring the sensation of being inside her. She meets each stroke, her hips rolling to
match mine, our bodies moving in perfect sync. Her eyes flutter, her lips parting slightly, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Harder," she whispers, her eyes pleading.
I obey. Her hands grip my shoulders, her nails digging in as I plunge into her, my body slamming against hers, the force of our
passion driving us higher. Her pussy clenches around me, milking my cock with each surge. Her cries fill the room, mingling
with the sound of our bodies slapping together. I can feel the orgasm building within me, the pleasure coursing through my
body, making me feel alive and wild.
Nadine's eyes are locked onto mine, her expression a mix of pain and pleasure. She's taking everything I'm giving her, her
body straining beneath mine, her muscles tightening around me as I continue to thrust.
"Fuck, I'm close," I groan, my own voice ragged with arousal.
"Come with me," she demands. “Now, Jake.”
Her words send me over the edge, my orgasm hitting me like a freight train. I cry out, my hips slamming against hers, my
cock buried deep inside her, my whole body convulsing. Nadine's eyes become hooded, her face a mask of pure ecstasy as she
feels me cum inside her. Her body jerks and trembles, her nails digging into my back as she cries out, her orgasm peaking with
mine.
I collapse onto her, our bodies still joined, our breaths ragged and uneven. Nadine wraps her arms around me, holding me
close, our skin damp with sweat. We lie there, our hearts pounding, our bodies still intertwined, as we catch our breath. She
strokes my back, her fingertips tracing the outline of my muscles.
"That was incredible," she whispers, her voice soft and content.
I smile, pulling away slightly to look into her eyes. "You’re incredible.”
She blushes, a shy smile playing on her lips. "I've never felt so alive."
Lying here in bed with Nadine, I can't help but feel like I've hit some kind of jackpot. The room is quiet except for our steady
breathing, and the moon casts a gentle light across the bed, making this moment feel almost dreamlike.
"So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" I ask, stroking her arm as she nestles against my chest.
Her eyes sparkle with a mixture of mischief and affection. "Well, Ellie's coming back first thing in the morning. She's going
to be so excited to see the playhouse."
I grin at the thought, already picturing Ellie’s reaction. "I can't wait to show her. I hope she likes it."
Nadine nudges me playfully. "Are you kidding? She's going to love it so much, I doubt I'll ever get her to come inside the
house again."
"That works for me," I say, pulling her close. "As long as you’re both here, I'm happy."
She leans in, her lips brushing against mine in a soft, tender kiss. "Neither one of us is going anywhere, Jake."
Her words send a thrill through me, and I pull her closer. "Good, because I plan to keep my naughty neighbor right where she
is."
 She laughs, a light, happy sound that fills the room. "Is that so? Well, your naughty neighbor might have a few surprises of her
own."
"Oh really?" I raise an eyebrow, intrigued.
Nadine responds by rolling on top of me, deepening the kiss as she pins my hands over my head. “Really,” she murmurs
against my lips before trailing kisses down my neck.
As we get lost in each other again, the outside world fades away. It's just us, here and now, building a future together in
every kiss, every touch, every shared smile. I may not be an expert, but I know one thing for sure: Love was the last thing I
expected to find next door, but it's the best surprise I've ever had. And as I sink inside of her again, I smile to myself.
Life with my naughty neighbor?
It's going to be one incredible adventure.
 Epilogue

Nadine

I 'mbeenstanding at the edge of our favorite hiking trail, overlooking the valley bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun. It's
a few months since Jake and I officially started our journey together, but sometimes it feels like a lifetime. I've come so
far from the guarded, skeptical woman I once was, afraid to let anyone close.
Now, here I am, trusting and open, with a heart so full of love it feels like it could burst.
Jake planned this hike as a surprise, but I didn't expect to find this picturesque picnic setup waiting for us. There's a blanket
laid out with our favorite snacks, and in the middle, a small bouquet of wildflowers. Ellie is here too, playing with a butterfly
that landed nearby, her laughter echoing through the air, as carefree as the wind.
Then Jake turns to me, his blue eyes reflecting the sky's brilliance. He takes my hands in his, and I see the love and certainty
in his gaze.
"Nadine," he begins, his voice steady, "from the moment you moved in next door, I knew my life was about to change. You've
opened my heart in ways I didn't think possible."
I feel a lump form in my throat as he continues, speaking of the playhouse he built, symbolizing the care and dedication he’s
willing to invest in us, in our family. My eyes water as he kneels, a small box appearing in his hand.
"Nadine, will you marry me?" His words are simple, but they carry the weight of all our hopes and dreams.
For a moment, I'm speechless, overwhelmed by the love and joy swelling within me. Then Ellie runs over, her eyes wide
with excitement. "Say yes, Mommy!"
I laugh through my tears, nodding. "Yes, Jake, a thousand times yes."
His smile lights up the entire valley as he slips the ring onto my finger. It's perfect, just like this moment. Ellie hugs us both,
completing the picture of the new life we're building together.
As we sit down to enjoy the picnic, I find myself reflecting on the journey that brought me here. I think about the fears and
struggles, the leaps of faith, and now, the promise of a future filled with love and laughter.
Jake wraps his arm around me, pulling me close. "Ready for this new adventure?" he whispers.
I lean into him, feeling at home in his embrace. "With you and Ellie by my side, I'm ready for anything."
The sun sets, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, a perfect backdrop for the beginning of our forever. As I sit here,
sandwiched between the two loves of my life, I realize that I'm no longer just surviving; I'm thriving.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Thanks for reading Her Naughty Neighbor! I hope you enjoyed Nadine and Jake's story. Please consider leaving a review on
Amazon. Just a short line or two can help other readers find their next favorite story!
 Also By C.L. Cruz

Curves in Love: Romance that Embraces Every Inch.

In a world where love knows no bounds, join a group of curvy friends as they navigate the twists and turns of romance,
finding their heart's desire in the most unexpected places.
 About C.L. Cruz

C rafting tales that aren’t just sweet, but irresistibly steamy, C.L. Cruz is the voice behind romances that celebrate strong,
spirited curvy women and the heart-throbbing men who adore them. When the pen is down, you can find her sipping a Diet
Coke on the sidelines of a kid's soccer game, dominating in Fortnite, or savoring the beach vibes. C.L. Cruz is here to remind
you that every curve in life's journey can lead to a delightful love story. Dive in, and let her sweep you off your feet!
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Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
envy; he himself was so completely a fish out of water.

"I am grieved indeed to hear of the way you have been treated," said
Mayne gently. "Poor girl! I wish you had gone away to Leitersdorp as I
suggested."

"So do I," said Millie, under her breath.

"You thought yourself so secure," he went on regretfully, looking at her

bandaged arm.

"Well, I'm paying for it," said the girl distinctly, "and got to go on doing
that all the rest of my life, so I hear."

"Oh, I hope not! You will be all right in a few weeks," he assured her
hopefully.

"Ah!" said she, "but he's got to be paid, you see, for what he did." She
raised her uninjured arm and pointed to Bert, who turned scarlet as he stood
awkwardly dandling his flowers. "Men don't help you for nothing; I've
found out that much," she said, with biting intention.

"I am sure you do Mestaer injustice," said Mayne quietly. "No

Englishman could possibly ask anything in return for the privilege of
helping a woman."

"He says," said Millie, "that I promised to marry him the night he
brought me here. I don't remember; but if I did, I got to do it, I s'pose."

"Certainly not!" was the emphatic reply. "Get rid of that idea. No man
worthy of the name could hold you to a promise made under such
circumstances. Besides, you are not free to marry for the next five years.
Don't you want to go to England?"

The living blood flooded the white face with lovely colour; the eyes
flashed fire.

"May I? Could I?" she gasped, half raising herself among her pillows,
her face transformed with an energy, a desire for life, most strikingly at
variance with her lethargy of a few minutes before. "Have they written? Do
they want me?"

He drew a letter from his coat-pocket. "They have written, and they do
want you," he said.

She sat quite up, unsupported. "Read it! Read it!"

Bert stood still as a stone, while Mayne unfolded a sheet of paper,

written in a small, niggling, but cultivated hand, and read:

"FRANSDALE VICARAGE, CLEVESHIRE.

"Dear Sir,—I am in receipt of your letter, and note that my brother-in-

law, Arnold Lutwyche, is dying, and leaving my niece, Melicent, only
daughter of my late sister, wholly unprovided for. I also note that you
consider her Boer step-mother is not a fit person to have the charge of her,
and is likely to treat her ill.

"Under these circumstances, my duty seems clear, and my wife and I

have no hesitation in directing you to send my niece to England by the
earliest available boat, and we will give her a home for the present.

"At the same time, I must acquaint you with the fact that our means are
small, and we have seven children of our own, so that Melicent will be
under the necessity of making herself useful.

"Please send her by the cheapest line of boats, and notify me of her
arrival. I fear that I shall not be able to come to London to meet her, but if
she is fifteen or sixteen years old, she should be able to make her way to us
as far as the railway will bring her—that is to say, to Birdmore Junction,
where she shall be met.

"I note that my brother's estate will be sufficient to meet her travelling
expenses, so conclude that no advance from me is necessary.
 "With thanks to you for the trouble you take in the matter, and
remembrances to Mr. Lutwyche, should this letter find him still alive.—I
am, very faithfully yours,

"EDMUND CHETWYND-COOPER."

This letter had chilled Mayne by its formal coldness. No love was sent
to the orphan, no message of welcome. But the frigidity of the style made
apparently no difference to Millie. The great fact was there. Her way to
England lay open, her destination fixed. Of all safe shelters, a remote
English vicarage should have satisfied her guardian. But somehow, to
Carol, the idea of Miss Lutwyche in such a situation, was not convincing.
He could not see her in the part, as actors say.

No such doubts troubled her. For the very first time since Mayne had
known her, her face beamed and sparkled with joy.

"I can be ready to travel soon," she cried. "In a fortnight—in ten days—
ask the doctor!"

Bert made three strides across the room, hurling with violence the
flowers he carried into the English grate.

"So you'll break your word," he began, and choked

Melicent turned her head towards him languidly.

"Bert Mestaer," said she, "have I ever once, since you knew me, said
one word to make you think I liked you?"

He fought with himself for composure to enable him to bring out the
monosyllable, "No."

"Then what d'you wanter marry me for?" she asked calmly.

"You know," he cried, terribly, wildly, in his frantic emotion. "You know
I love you—you know I don't care for anything else, but just to have you!
Where'd you be now, if it wasn't for me? Tell me that! I wish to God I'd
never seen you! I'll—I'll kill you with my own hands before I'll let you go
now! I'll do worse—I'll..."

He stopped himself suddenly, meeting the steady contempt of Mayne's

eyes.

There was a moment of awful silence, broken only by two dry, tearing
sobs from the furious lover; then Millie, who had turned chalk-white once
more, fell back among her pillows with an impatient motion of the hand.

"Oh, get away; you make me sick," she said.

Before Bert could speak or move, Mayne went up to him, took him by
the arm, and led him out of the room. Then, handing him his hat, he drew
him as passively out of the house.

Neither spoke till they had walked half a mile. Mayne was half in fear
that Bert, in his rage, might set upon him bodily, and congratulated himself,
not for the first time in his missionary career, upon the possession of thews
and sinews. But no ebullition came. Bert's face had gone grey, and he
looked worn and shrunken in the strong sunlight.

At last, smitten by the despair in his altered manner, the elder man
ventured to speak.

"Mestaer, you must come and put up at my place till Miss Lutwyche is
well enough to travel. You did the best you could for her—you did well; but
the strain is too great, and it must cease. I shall wire for one of the Sisters
from Leitersdorp to come and help Anna to nurse her. As to you, you have
to fight and win a man's hardest battle; and I'll give you a bit of advice—"

"Go to h— with your advice!"

"I'm not far away now, to judge by the sulphur in the atmosphere,"
retorted Mayne drily, and said no more.
 They walked on until they came to the little Mission, and turned in to
the sparsely-furnished living-room, with its crucifix and Albrecht Dürer
fac-similes, and the Da Vinci Virgin on the rude mantel.

Bert walked across the room, planted both elbows on the shelf, and
stared with blank eyes at the ineffable smile of the pictured face. Suddenly
he wheeled round.

"Well, what's your blasted advice?" he said rudely. "A black-coated prig
that doesn't know what it means to be..."

"Tempted," suggested Mayne drily. But he pushed a chair for his

discourteous guest, and got down the tobacco-jar. "No man can fight the
flesh and win, if he's living in idleness," he said reflectively, standing before
the hearth and filling his pipe. "But there's another consideration. Do you
realise that we are on the brink of war?"

"Kruger, perhaps."

"Steyn, too. You heard the news the other day? All the men ordered out
on commando. What does that mean? The Orange Free State is going in
against England."

"Well, they can fight their own blank battles without my help."

"That's rubbish, Mestaer. You'll have to fight on one side or the other.
Now is the time to show yourself an Englishman. England wants men. They
think at home that this war is to be a walk over. You and I know better. Go
and enlist. There's a career for you."

"I'll be d—d if I do."

"That's a condition that seems to me far more likely to supervene if you

don't," was the temperate reply.

Bert laid down his miserable head upon his arms.

"You don't see, and I can't explain," he said haltingly, "that it's not a
thing—not a question of what you call the flesh. If there's such a thing as
spirit anywhere in me, I've put it all in my love for her. If you take her
away, I shall go to the devil."

"If I take her away! My dear chap, you cannot seriously mean to pretend
that you think Millie wants to marry you?"

Sulky silence.

"I know you better than to believe you would be cad enough to marry
her against her will. Were you to do so, I fail to see in what respect you
would be any better than Otis."

No reply.

Mayne stood up, searching his book-shelves for the "Divina

Commedia."

"Bert, did you ever hear of Dante?"

"No. Nobody as lives hereabouts, is he?"

Mayne did not smile.

"I'll tell you something of him—how all his life he lived for the memory
of a dead woman—a woman of whom he knew even less than you know of
Millie, and lived in hope, and cleanly, for her sake. Now, Millie is not dead.
You are but a boy, and she a girl. Five or six or seven years hence, if you
make a career for yourself what is to prevent you from trying again? By that
time she would at least realise the enduring nature of your love; whereas
now, neither you nor I nor she could say that it will last. It is just a boy's hot
flame."

Bert stamped.

"You don't believe me capable of it," he stormed. "You just think that if
you can get her out of my way now, that'll be the end of it all. You don't
think I've the manhood or the pluck to stick to the thing through years of
absence—"
 He broke off, staring at the kindled face of the priest, who had risen, and
stood facing him.

"That's just where you make your mistake, Bert," said his friend
earnestly. "I do believe you capable of the best. Listen! When I came first to
Slabbert's Poort, I found you a loafer. You were idle and good-for-nothing
and intemperate. Now you have shown me what you are capable of. Your
love for Millie has made you a different man. You have fought for her,
saved her, respected her! ... I rather wish you had heard tell of one
Caponsacchi; but never mind. It's better to do knightly deeds than to read
about 'em. Anyhow, you have set your foot on the road to become a true
gentleman; why turn back now? Hubert Mestaer"—his voice took on the
deep note it sometimes had in the pulpit—"by the memory of your mother, I
ask you, why turn back now?"

CHAPTER X

FRANSDALE
"Ankle-deep in English grass I leaped,
And clapped my hands, and called all very fair."
—ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

It was mid-October. St. Luke's summer brooded over the solitary acres
of heather, which crowned the hills that flung encradling arms about
Fransdale.

The golden bracken was turning brown, but the heather still carried its
glory of purple. The woodlands were forsaking their devotion to pure green,
and rioted in every hue of red and yellow, and the light air sang and
hummed about the uplands of the glorious land. All the summer had been
fine; the becks had sunk to musical murmurings; one might walk from Tod's
Trush to the Three Howes, across country, without getting bogged.

In a stable-yard surrounded by grey stone out-buildings stood the

Reverend Edmund Chetwynd-Cooper, harnessing his horse to the dog-cart.
Near him a big, loose-limbed, clumsy girl, who had evidently outgrown her
strength, stood listlessly watching him through half-shut eyes.

"How old is Cousin Melicent?" she asked, in a voice which always

sounded fretful.

"I have told you I believe her to be about sixteen."

"Nearly as old as I am. I wonder whether we shall like her?"

"I hope you understood what I said at dinner-time. There is to be no

intimacy until we have decided that Melicent is a fit companion for you. No
intimacy, mind."

His voice was even and quiet, low-pitched and cultivated. He was a
handsome, dark man, with regular features, and a cold, blue eye; clean
shaven but for a straight line of black whisker down each cheek, which
made him look vaguely out of date.

His daughter looked at him with a sidelong glance.

"All right, father," she said, in a kind of formula, adding, in an injured

tone: "I should have thought you might take one of us to meet her."

"I do not know what luggage there may be."

Mr. Cooper would not have said, "I don't know," for the world; and the
fact was typical of his extreme correctness.

"Where is your mother?" he asked, when the last strap was adjusted. "I
promised her a lift as far as the Mill. Go, Madeline, and tell her I am ready."

The girl slouched away, with a bored expression; and the parson, having
fetched the dust-rug and whip, walked the mare out of the yard and up to
the door of the square, uncompromising grey stone Vicarage.

Nothing could have been finer than the prospect. The church and
Vicarage stood near the head of the Dale, close to the bolder, wilder, more
heathery part, and looked down on the valleyland, the trout stream and rich
meadows below. The minutes ticked on, while the vicar waited. Presently
Madeline emerged.

"Mother says she won't be long."

"Will you tell her please, that I positively must start in five minutes."

The girl disappeared. The five minutes elapsed; three more passed. The
vicar got into the trap. Madeline once more appeared.

"Mother thinks, before she starts, she had better give Bee a dose of her
tonic."

"Then tell her I am off without her. The train will not wait, even for
your mother."

He was just going out of the gate, when a window-sash was raised, and
a voice cried:

"Aidmund! Aidmund!"

He checked the horse.

"Well? Come if you are ready," he said, quite temperately, his voice
showing no annoyance.

"Oh, no, I can't do that; but I thought it would be so capital if you could
get me one or two things in Birdmore? I shan't be very long writing them
down."

"You should have thought of that before."

"My darling boy, think how busy I have been all this morning, preparing
—"
 The rest was lost, for the vicar had driven away. His cold eyes were
quite gentle, but he did draw in his breath sharply once; at the thought,
perhaps, of this helpmeet of his, in this remote village, where nothing ever
interrupted her simple routine of duties—incapable of being ready for a
drive at three o'clock in the afternoon.

The old mare had to step out. Mrs. Cooper had succeeded in making her
husband ten minutes late; and nine miles of very bad road lay between him
and the Junction. The train which was to bring his niece was just coming to
a standstill in the little wayside station, as the old mare, conscious of having
been hustled, trotted into the station-yard.

The vicar hastened through the booking-office, out upon the asphalte
platform, whereon a small, slender girl in black stood lonely beside some
solid-looking packing-cases and one modest trunk. She wore her left arm in
a sling. He came slowly forward, with a resolute smile of greeting on his
face.

"Are you Melicent?"

She raised her eyes searchingly to his face. "Yes, I am."

"You are not at all like your mother," he said, scanning the pale face.

"No; father did not think me like her."

"You have managed your journey well?"

"Oh, yes, thank you, it was all quite easy."

"How did you manage last night in London?"

"I went home with some people who were kind to me on the voyage;
Mr. and Mrs. Helston."

"I expected a taller niece," he said kindly.

"I am small for my age, I know."

 His anxious gaze was fixed upon the packing-cases. There were three of
them, and their bulk suggested weight.

"Do those cases belong to you?" he asked.

"Yes; my father's books and valuables. He left them all to me, and my
guardian insisted that Mrs. Lutwyche should give them up."

"Well, I don't quite know how they are going to be conveyed up the
Dale," he said, in perplexity.

"Oh, that's all right," said Millie, with sang-froid. "Mr. Dow is going to
take them in his waggon."

"Mr. Dow!" ejaculated the vicar, in a tone compounded of equal parts of

astonishment and displeasure.

A big Cleveshire Dalesman, of the more prosperous type—handsome,

well-dressed, a striking figure in his riding breeches and gaiters, now
approached, lifting his cap from his fair hair, his eyes twinkling with a kind
of enjoyment which he peculiarly relished.

"Your niece and me has been getting acquainted," he said, in his

unrenderable soft-vowelled Dale speech. "Makin' friends, as you may say."
It sounded more like: "Mäakin' freänds, as you mäay säa." But the phonetic
rendering of dialect is a weariness, and will not here be attempted. "Fair
enjoyin' werselves we've been, ever since leavin' York Station. I'm goin' to
take her goods up t' Dale for her, since I expect you've only t' old mare an't'
cart with you, Mr. Cooper."

Mr. Cooper could barely acknowledge the kindness, for angry

mortification. He was a Southerner, planted down among people whom he
disliked, because he did not in the least understand them. His idea of the
peasant's correct attitude was a servile obedience to the parson, and that
kind of gratitude which is rightly said to consist of a lively sense of favours
to come. The sturdy independence, and I'm-as-good-as-you indifference of
the North Country, was a positive offence to him, his only armour against it
being a crust of ever increasing cold dignity and aloofness, which the
Dalesmen saw, and chuckled over. His wife, who had come among them,
ready with the ministrations which she understood—with condescending
smiles, ill-made soup, old clothes and patronage—found no market for
these commodities. A premature exhibition of them had produced such a
condition of feeling, that now, as she came down the road, full of amiable
intentions, the village became a desert, everyone slipping within doors and
disappearing, sooner than encounter her.

Moreover, the Dale was full of nonconformity; and the attitude of the
vicar towards dissent was that of silent, rigid dislike—of his wife, that kind
of shocked horror with which some people talk of "the heathen."

So the Chetwynd-Coopers dwelt as aliens in their Northern parish,

attributing their failure solely to causes exterior to themselves, and
resolutely setting the advantages of fine moorland air, and the low price of
provisions, against the vague depression which their isolation naturally
caused.

But, among all the thorns in the vicar's dignified flesh, Farmer Dow, of
Crow Gate Farm, the leading Dissenter in the Dale, was the sharpest. Poor
Millie could not have made a more unfortunate entry upon the scenes, than
under his auspices. The ice in the vicar's voice, as he declined his kindness,
was obvious to the bystanders. But Dow was not to be denied. He had
promised Millie that her goods should be taken up, and taken up they
should be, that very night. She had taught him more about South Africa in
half-an-hour than the newspapers had taught him in half a year. She was
coming to tea with his mother, at Crow Gate, and going to keep him posted
in the war news. He owed it to her to see after her baggage, after such
entertainment. He helped her into the trap with such empressement that the
onlookers were deeply moved; and the vicar's heart was hot within him as
he drove away. His niece was, as he had feared, hopelessly Colonial.

But it was not the vicar's habit to speak in anger. Experience had given
him a power of self-control which would have kindled the admiration of his
parishioners, had they guessed what manner of man lay hidden under the
dry, precise manner.
 He waited until he had himself well in hand, and then commenced
conversation—not upon the burning topic.

"I am sorry to see that you have hurt your arm."

Millie, whose eyes were fixed in deep, increasing interest on the country
they were passing through, looked up.

"It was the old woman," she said. "I thought Mr. Mayne might have told
you. She sjambokked me pretty nearly to death, and threw me down and
dislocated my arm."

The clear, soft voice, evenly cadenced, giving out this astonishing
information, raised fresh tumult in the vicar's bosom.

"Do you mean your step-mother?" he asked, in horror.

"Yes. Mr. Mayne had to go to Leitersdorp to get the will proved. He was
away three days, and she made up her mind to take it out on me."

"To take what out?"

"She was mad because father made him my guardian. She wanted to sell
me to a Yankee; he'd given her ten pounds on account. So Mr. Mayne told
her it was a case of hands off, because it was his show. So she got the
children to catch and hold me, and they managed to tie me up; and she just
went on until she was tired," said Millie unemotionally.

The vicar had no words. Uppermost in his mind was deep, abiding
thankfulness that he had brought none of his daughters with him to meet
this astounding young person. What would his wife say to this? Such
people, they knew, existed in the pages of those sensational novels which
cannot be too severely condemned by the well-regulated; but that his own
sister's child should have been strung up and thrashed! ... The current of hot
sympathy in him must have found vent in indignant words; but it was
invaded by another thought. The carefully guarded propriety of his own
children must suffer no contact with naked facts of life like this; and such
was the feeling that spoke first.
 "I must ask you not to mention this. I should say, I must order you not to
tell your cousins, or Miss Lathom, their governess, how you came by your
injuries. To your aunt, in private, it may be alluded to, but I cannot have so
scandalous a thing generally known."

Millie looked up swiftly.

"I can keep a thing dark, if I am given the tip," she said, with
amusement that sounded a little contemptuous.

He was conscious of great annoyance.

"I give no tips. I merely say that this must not be mentioned," he said
frigidly. "We will refer to it later. And now to touch upon another matter. In
England the—ah—fusion of classes to which you have probably been
accustomed is not desirable. The vicar's niece cannot, with propriety, be on
terms of equality with a farmer like Dow."

"Oh," said Millie, "why not?"

"We are socially Mr. Dow's superiors, and we must not let him forget
his place, as these Dalesmen are most apt to do."

"I should have thought," said Millie reflectively, "that they would never
be likely to forget their place, so long as we were sure of ours."

The vicar again felt uncomfortable. His wife and he were well-born—
people of just enough consequence to be eager that nobody should forget it;
undeniably belonging to the county set, but much ignored by that set, as
being poor and desperately dull.

"You see, at home we shouldn't have been socially superior to Mr.

Dow," said Millie.

"You have much to learn here," returned her uncle; and as he spoke, he
was inly deciding that the girl was impossible.
 CHAPTER XI

MELICENT'S COUSINS
"Girls' heads are not like jam-pots, which, if you do not fill them will remain empty; a
filling there will be, of some kind."—JULIANA HORATIA EWING.

They had been crawling for some time slowly up a steep lane with
hedges; now suddenly they emerged at the top, and a long sigh of wonder
escaped Millie as she saw the moorland spread before her in all its untamed
splendour. Great headlands, facing northwards, jutted forth into the heather,
as into a purple sea; and on the brink of one of these the travellers found
themselves, overlooking a vast stretch of wild country. The descent down
which they must go was almost a precipice. Something in the keen racing
air, the height, the freedom, the glory of it all, took Melicent by the throat
England was like this—like this! Sunlight, colour, the adorable odour of
peat and bracken, drawn out by the sun, the blue mysteries of distance ... it
came about her like compelling arms. Solitude, silence, spacious calm—
here were elements that appealed to the depth of her being. Reserved as she
was, she had nearly cried aloud to her unknown uncle for sympathy in her
sudden rush of feeling for the land of her forefathers. He had checked the
mare to a walk, and was coaxing her downhill with caution and skill.

"Our roads are not much to boast of hereabouts," he said at last, as the
cart slewed itself over a lump in the road, designed to prevent heavy rainfall
from washing out the roadway on the violent slope. "But I daresay you are
not much better off in Africa."

"Not much to boast of! They are glorious!" breathed Millie, insensible
of jolting in her admiration. "We have nothing like this in Africa!"

"A few miles further on, I can show you a road, compared with which,
this might be a billiard-table," he said cheerfully.
 Millie became aware that he referred to surface and gradients, and not to
landscape.

"Oh, I see," she replied lamely. "I was thinking of—of the heather."

"You will see plenty of that," was the composed answer. "It begins to
grow all over the road, at no great distance from here."

Conversation did not seem easy. Millie was at no time talkative, and
they fell silent, and so remained while they traversed several miles of open
moor, crossed a desolate ridge, and presently found themselves dipping
again into a lane with hedges, in all their autumn glory of ripe blackberries,
fluffy travellers' joy, coral honeysuckle berries and wayfaring tree.

"Now we are in Fransdale," said Mr. Cooper.

They were labouring along, in narrow, sandy, toilsome windings, when

the hoot of a motor, up somewhere over their heads, made Mr. Cooper start.
He was leading the mare, and proceeded to drag her as far as he possibly
could to the side of the lane—half-way up the hedge, in fact. The next
moment the car came in sight, tearing downhill at a speed which was
evidently calculated upon the certainty of clear roads. It began to bray
loudly, as though, in response to the warning, the vicar could cause his dog-
cart to vanish into thin air. Millie surveyed it with interest, and as it whizzed
by, within an inch of their off-wheel, she caught sight of a young,
handsome, bored face, and that of an older man beside it. They raised their
hats as they swept by, having most narrowly missed smashing the cart to
fragments: but the vicar seemed quite pleased, and not at all annoyed.

"Sir Joseph Burmester and his son—our big land-owners hereabouts,"

he explained.

"Oh!" said his niece; adding, after reflection: "Are they our social
equals?"

For some reason, the question annoyed the vicar; he relapsed into
silence.
 Mrs. Cooper prided herself upon keeping all her Southern customs up
here in the North. When Melicent came downstairs to tea, she saw none of
that wonderful pastry without which no Cleveshire tea-table is complete.
Her five girl-cousins and their governess were assembled to be introduced
to their new relative. They stared at her with a passive and stony
indifference. Madeline was seventeen, Gwendolen sixteen, Theodora
fifteen, Barbara fourteen, and Beatrice twelve. Even Beatrice was quite as
tall as Melicent; and the elder girls were vast, the two eldest nearing five-
foot-ten, after the fashion of the modern girl, and not in the least as yet
knowing how to manage their swelling proportions. In their outgrown,
scanty frocks, and big, thick legs, they looked rather like men in a farce,
dressed up to represent little girls. Two or three of them were handsome, but
they all struck Millie as singularly expressionless. Their faces were like
masks.

Mrs. Chetwynd-Cooper's hair was pale flaxen, and being brushed away
very tightly from the face, gave the impression of her having no hair at all.
The odd look of being out of date, achieved in her husband's case by side-
whiskers, was bestowed upon her by long earrings. The couple looked like
the Papa and Mamma of a virtuous family, in a very early Victorian story-
book.

Mrs. Cooper sat down to table with a determined cheerfulness which

Melicent soon learned was her characteristic. It somehow succeeded in
producing deep depression in others. At least, nobody spoke; and the girl
found herself with her attention fixed, with a fatal fascination, upon her
aunt's smile and her aunt's earrings, and longing for something to divert her
eye.

Her uncle's depression was a very real and well-defined thing that
evening. There was something about his new niece which he found himself
disliking with quite unchristian vehemence. He had confided to his wife
that extreme care would be necessary, and that the new-comer must by no
means be let loose among their own children. Mrs. Cooper could not share
his depression. She had the boundless self-confidence of an entirely stupid
woman. She had made her own girls models of all that girls should be. No
slang was ever heard in the Vicarage; no loud voices; no unruly expression
of opinion. Why should she not be equally successful with this raw
material, doubtless sent by Providence to her good guidance?

Melicent sat watching her five munching cousins, and thought they
were something like cows. Their eyes were vacant, their appetites steady.
She was just wondering whether all talking at meals was forbidden, when
Gwendolen, who sat next her, tossed back her long hair, and asked:

"How did you hurt your arm?"

Melicent's voice was soft, but singularly clear. It had a carrying quality.

"Uncle Edmund says I am not to tell you," she replied.

Mr. Cooper was all the more angry, because he felt sure that his niece
could and would have skated ably over this thin ice had he not repudiated
all wish to "keep things dark." She had done exactly what he told her to do,
and he wanted to box her ears.

"Give us news of your Cochin China hen, Gwendolen," he broke in.

"Has she been laying away again?"

"Yes, in the hedge," said his daughter, giving her reply in lifeless tone
and fewest words; and silence fell again.

"Oh, by the way, I have a pleasant surprise for Melicent," said Mrs.
Cooper suddenly, her countenance wreathed in smiles. She always spoke as
though coaxing a very young child, who needed encouragement and
reassurance; and her niece resented it as actively as did the villagers. "What
do you think arrived for you this morning, Melicent? Theo, darling, if you
look on mother's desk, you will find a letter for Cousin Melicent. I suppose
the mail travels faster than the boat you came in, Melicent."

Theo brought a letter and handed it to her cousin, who took it with
composure.

"I wonder whom that comes from?" said Mrs. Cooper archly.

"It's from Hubert Mestaer."

 "And who is that?" pursued the lady, delighted that everybody's
attention was so skilfully diverted from the broken arm.

"He is one of the men who wanted to marry me," said Millie clearly.

In the deadly pause that followed, she caught a glance, hastily passing
under lowered lids, between Miss Lathom and her two elder pupils.

But the valiant Mrs. Cooper was equal even to this occasion.

"When dear Melicent has been with us a little longer, she will know that
we do not talk of such things," she cooed, blushing as coyly as the heroine
in a novel by Charles Reade.

The blush was not to be seen reflected on the stolid countenances of her
daughters. They chewed on.

"What things?" asked Millie, bewildered.

"Our offers of—marriage," said her aunt, bringing out the bold word
with a gulp. "You are a little young, darling, to be thinking of marriage for a
great many years, are you not?"

"Yes; that is what I told them," replied Millie simply, fixing surprised
eyes upon the lady's embarrassment.

The vicar cleared his throat.

"Perhaps you had better give that letter to your aunt, Melicent, and let
her judge whether it is a fit one for you to receive."

Melicent removed her look of surprise from one end of the table to
another.

"I think it would be playing it very low down on Bert to let anybody see
his letter," she said, with decision.

"My girls show me all their letters," said her aunt, still smiling and
coaxing.
 "I beg your pardon if it sounds rude," replied her niece, "but I shall not
show you mine."

The vicar rose from table with decision.

"We will discuss this at another time," he said. "Melicent will, of course,
conform to the rules of the house while she is with us. For what we have
received, etc. A word, Miss Lathom, please." Then, as the girls filed past,
he said low in the governess's ear: "On no account is she to be left alone
with her cousins for a moment."

The girls filed soberly out, led the way upstairs, through a swing-door,
along a passage, into a shabby old room with deep window-seats, an aged
rocking-horse, shelves of story books and disabled toys, an ink-stained,
battered table, a high fire-guard, and all the usual accessories of the nursery
turned schoolroom.

They fastened the swing-door behind them as they went through,

carefully closing the door of the school-room also; and then all, as it were,
exhaling a gasp of relief, turned to their cousin again with transfigured
faces.

"Now we can talk! Now we can be ourselves! Now we can have some
fun!" they cried, surrounding her.

The masks were dropped, the real girls appeared, tossing back their hair,
stretching their limbs, assuming every possible attitude of comfort and
inelegance. They all talked at once, crowding round; and the transition was
so abrupt and so complete as to bewilder her.

"One moment," said Gwendolen, who was the handsomest, and seemed
to take the lead, rather than the petulant and anæmic-looking Madeline. "Be
cautious, girls! we may very likely be raided this evening; she's sure to poke
her nose in after Melicent. Put out the things. Did you hoist the weight,
Babs?"

"Yes, I did," said Barbara.