Page 92 of When the Walls Come Down
I couldn’t argue with that. “Fine. Anything else?”
She nodded playfully and then squirmed away. Over at the table, she proudly lifted the two smallest lids at the same time. “Life is too short to not eat ranch, but I’ll be damned if you steal anymore of mine.” Her smile lit the whole fucking apartment. “Now, I’m hungry. Let’s eat. Your old ass will need all the energy you can get for the double homicide we’ll be committing together later.”
I was the luckiest ex-boss, next-door neighbor in history.
She added, “And if you’re good, maybe I’ll borrow your kneepads.”“Are you kidding me?” she asked at my door Saturday night, sweeping her eyes from my head to toes. “One of us has to change.”
I gazed down at my gray button-up shirt and then at her gray button-up dress. “Mine has sleeves. They’re completely different.” They were not. We looked silly as hell, but I was fine with it. “Come on. You look beautiful, and I’m thirsty.”
“At least swap sweaters.” She meant for me to get a different one, but I couldn’t help playing with her.
“Okay, here,” I replied, holding my tan sweater out for her. Her tan sweater was looped over her bag.
She leveled me with those eyes. I was walking a thin line, but getting her riled up was my favorite hobby.
“Oh, you mean you want me to bring a different sweater?” Leaning over, I placed a kiss on her bare shoulder and added, “Sure. No problem, Peach.”
“You drive me crazy.”
I popped my door open and quickly switched out my evening outerwear. Then we were off to the party. As we walked the few blocks to the brewery, she slipped her hand into my palm and smiled up at me, beaming.
“What’s that smile all about?” I asked while I opened the door for her.
“I’m just happy. That’s all.”
That’s all. As if her being happy wasn’t the single most important thing in the world.
I shrugged and repeated, “That’s all.”
Inside, we were met with a round of applause—which felt super weird. And as we walked farther in, I faced her and began to clap with everyone else.
Maggie’s expression was priceless. Flushed cheeks. A glimmer in her blue eyes. A grin that threatened to split her face clean in half. “Thank you,” she said, nodding at my brother-in-law as he and Blake walked over.
“Hey, Maggie, welcome.” Casey hip-checked my sister, who was trying to hold back from laughing at us. “Who is this guy?” he teased.
Brightly, she answered, “This is my boyfriend, Shane.”
Ha! Take that.
I stood up a little straighter and tipped my chin at my family.
Always a smartass, Casey teased under his breath, “She could do better.”
My sister swatted her husband’s arm. “Come on. You guys need a drink.”
He was right. She could do better, but she’d picked me. An old-ass divorced dude who was afraid of heights. But I was all hers for as long as she’d have me.
And have me she did—a few hours later at her desk.
“It took everything in me some days not to walk across the hall and attack you,” she claimed around our kiss. She was riding me and doing a damn fine job of it, because I was about to bust.
“Shut up. I’ll come right now if you keep talking.”
She chuckled against my lips. “I already did.”
I knew she had, but I was just attributing her hair-trigger orgasm to the taboo of doing it at work. I was hoping she’d get there again before I did.
“Well, it’s your office, boss.” I lifted and pushed deeper inside her. “Keep talking. Let’s get this show started.”
I couldn’t believe how long I was lasting with Peach telling me all her dirty fantasies about me from across the hall. She was just as bad as I’d been.
Still, I held it all together until she said, “I love you, Shane. I love you so much.”
I tried to reply, but it just sounded like, “I—ahhh.”
But I was learning that’s how life worked. Sometimes you didn’t say the right thing. Sometimes you didn’t do the right thing. But the right person can see through all your bullshit to you.
When the walls come down, there’s just love.Six years later…“Nope, nope, nope,” I chanted, lurching across the counter to grab my special vase of flowers before the mover got his hands on it. Turned out, after several hours of deliberation, Hydrangeas were my favorite flowers—the blue ones, not the pink. Twice a month, Shane brought home a bouquet to fill the vase I’d bought on our first date. “I thought we said not to pack anything on the counters.”
The young man nodded. “I was just trying to move it so we didn’t knock it over when we brought the couches out.”
“Oh,” I mumbled. “I was…not aware of that.”
He smiled and walked down the hall, but he shook his head at Shane as he passed.
