Page 35 of The Burbs and the Bees
“Had some things to take care of,” I grumble, not wanting to talk, or even think, about Alyson. For the life of me, I can’t understand how she’s getting under my skin so fast. She’s so not my type. Not anymore anyway.
His eyes narrow, and he looks me over. Sadly, there isn’t much I can keep from my best friend. “By things, I hope you mean your new neighbor.”
Four other sets of eyes turn to me, and I greet the guys with a nod of the head. “I take it you’ve told them about her?”
Colin gives my shoulder a squeeze. “She’s on everyone’s lips, dude.”
“She’s not on mine,” I say quickly, a strange stab of possessiveness cutting into me. I chalk it up to the fact that she’s a lamb in a town full of hound dogs. If I had a sister, I’d protect her, too. Yeah, that’s all this is. I’m a protector at heart. My jealousy has nothing to do with wanting her for myself, goddammit.
Colin smirks. How is he so good at reading my mind? “Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t go for it.”
“You know all the reasons.” I wipe my brow and change the subject. “It’s like five hundred degrees in here, bro.”
Colin lets the subject drop, for now, and wedges the door open to get a breeze. “We don’t all live in air-conditioned comfort, pussy,” he says.
“Hey, don’t be dissing pussy,” Matt says. “It’s only my favorite thing.”
The others all jump in to agree—and yeah, that right there is why I feel pro
tective of the girl next door.
“Can we get this over with?” I ask, and grumbles from the guys fill the community hall as they echo my sentiment. “I need a cold beer.”
Colin scoffs. “We’re just getting started.”
“You have too much time on your hands, my friend,” I say. My best friend teaches agriculture at the local community college and has his summers off. “Fine. One hour, then the beer is on me.” He pushes a bunch of buttons on the stereo system, and a Britney Spears song blares from a nearby speaker. I groan.
“Seriously, dude?”
“Do you have a better suggestion?” he asks.
“Yeah, scratch this dance number.”
“No can do.” He waves a finger at me. “What Sara wants, Sara gets.”
I shake off my bad mood. It’s not Colin’s fault my dick can’t stop thinking about Alyson’s naked body. When her nipples swelled, it was all I could do not to bend her over and take her right there, in front of Capone. Wouldn’t that give him something to talk about. But seriously, the softness of her flesh, the sweet, natural smell of her skin, was a fast reminder that I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. But getting mixed up with the girl I’m hell-bent on sending home isn’t a good idea. Nope, not a good idea at all.
Right?
Fuck me.
“Okay, so I thought we’d start out with this move,” Colin says and does some spinning motion that’s probably going to make me fall flat on my face and put out an eye. I mean, it’s all fun and games until someone puts out an eye, right? Unlike my best friend, I don’t have any good moves, at least not on the dance floor.
For the next half hour, the guys and I all try to follow along, and I struggle not to trip over my feet as we dance to the ridiculous pop song. Needing a cold beer, and an even colder shower—for reasons that have nothing to do with this dance routine—I wipe my brow and glance up when movement near the door catches my attention. I nearly bite off my tongue when I find Alyson standing there in my clothes, holding back a laugh.
“Shit,” I grumble and motion for Colin to kill the music. I make my way across the floor.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your”—she glances past my shoulders—“all-boys-club dance troupe? Or boy band, maybe?” she teases, and I sense she’s trying to lighten things up after I nearly bit her head off earlier. “Good thing NSYNC broke up. I have a feeling you guys would give them a run for their money.” She looks around again. “Who’s the lead singer?”
“Funny.” I lean against the doorjamb and rub the hem of my shirt between my finger. My clothes are huge and hanging off her body, but seeing her in them messes with me a little bit. Or a lot. “You’re still in my clothes.”
There’s mischief in her big blue eyes when she says, “Look at that, and here I accused you of not being clever.”
“Smart-ass,” I say, but I like her humor. It’s a nice break from my hum-drum routine. Wait, I like my hum-drum routine, thrive on it, right? “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I heard music and laughter so I walked over.”
“That wasn’t laughter, that was me groaning in pain.”
