The Voyeur Next Door Read online

  “You know, I get car sick,” Earl was telling Ali when I walked up to them. “I prefer the back.”

  Not knowing Earl and his slick little antics, Ali shrugged and yanked open the door. She flipped the lever to the passenger’s side seat and sent it slumping forward.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Very,” Earl assured her as he stooped his way into the back.

  Ali returned the front seat to its original position and stepped aside to let me in. I didn’t budge. I had never had a woman open a car door for me and I was still determining whether or not I liked it, when she spoke.

  “Don’t mean to rush you, but I’m not getting any less hungry.”

  “I can get my own door,” I said, not caring how that sounded.

  It was impossible to tell with the glasses covering half her face, but I could have sworn her eyebrow lifted.

  “Will your penis convert into a vagina if a woman holds the door for you?”

  Something about the way she said it, the sound of those words coming out of her mouth when she looked like she belonged in some church choir, sent a zing of electricity coursing through me that I did not appreciate. I had worked too long and too hard to let some loony librarian ruffle my feathers.

  “Because I was raised to be a gentleman,” I stated hotly.

  Her mouth actually quirked in pacifying amusement. “How’s that working out for you, Jack?”

  “My name is Gabe,” I said with barely suppressed aggravation. “Not Jack.”

  The witch actually had the nerve to nod coolly and reply, “I know.”

  She left me standing there, debating just how badly I was willing to piss off my grandfather, and made her way behind the wheel. The sound of her door slamming shut jolted me into motion.

  Fucking Tuesdays.

  The woman drove as though there were gun-wielding maniacs chasing us. There were moments where I feared for my life, moments that were unreciprocated by the other two passengers; Earl sounded like he was having the time of his life in the backseat.

  “Do you normally drive like this?”

  She turned her head to look at me. “Like what?”

  “Watch the road!” I practically wet myself when she stomped on the brake, jerked the wheel hard right, and propelled us down a side street. “Jesus Christ!”

  “Oh calm down, Jack,” she said, clearly enjoying my terror. “I’ve been driving since I was sixteen and haven’t gotten so much as a parking ticket.”

  Yet oddly enough, that in no way reassured me.

  “At this speed, you will get us all killed if you—”

  “Well, now that you said it, I probably will!” she snapped. “Why would you jinx us like that?”

  “Jinx? What—?”

  We rounded another corner at speeds that made my stomach crawl into the back of my throat. I wanted to shut my eyes, fuck masculinity, but I couldn’t. My eyes were frozen open, capturing every horrific moment of the last minutes of my life.

  But as abruptly as the world was swirling around us, it came to a shrieking halt when she practically Tokyo Drifted into an empty parking spot. I leapt out of the car before she could even think about putting it in drive again, or at least, I tried to. My seatbelt grabbed me and thrust me back into the seat three times before I realized I still had it clipped in.

  “You okay there, slugger?” Ali snickered.

  I wanted to flip her off. No. I wanted to strangle her. What the hell kind of crazy nut job was she?

  “There is something severely wrong with you,” I hissed, pitching the strap off and throwing myself out of the car.

  It was amazing how a near death experience could make you love the scorching heat when your entire body was drenched in cold sweat. I would have doubled over and retched, except I still had some pride rattling around somewhere inside.

  “I haven’t seen driving like that since I was a kid racing my car down Dead Man’s Cliff for a chance to date Candy Jacobs, the prettiest cheerleader in my whole school,” Earl was saying when he hopped out of the backseat. “Ever considered it?”

  “Dating Candy Jacobs?” Ali teased. “Maybe for a second. Cheerleaders do funny things to my insides.”

  Earl laughed and patted her on the arm. “I meant racing.”

  Ali laughed. “No, I don’t drive nearly that crazy.”

  It was my turn to snort. “I don’t think there’s a name for your level of crazy,” I muttered.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Earl comforted, even though Ali looked unmoved by my statement. “He’s a stick in the mud.”

  “Are you sure it’s mud?” Ali replied crisply.

  Reaching in, she snatched up her purse out of the backseat and tossed the strap over one shoulder. She closed her door and motioned Earl to start walking. I followed at a much less steady pace.

  The restaurant was a steaks and burgers sort of place with a bright green awning straining partially over the sidewalk and shielding the five wrought iron tables and chairs. Large bay windows gleamed black in the late evening glare. It was a place I had seen in passing, but had never had a reason to go in; if it wasn’t delivered into the comfort of my living room, I had no use for it.

  “Do you want to sit inside, or out?” Ali asked Earl.

  His wizened face twisted. I wasn’t sure if it was in deliberation, or the fact that we were standing in the middle of the sidewalk with the sun beating down on us, but his eyes disappeared into the folds of his wrinkles and he pursed his lips.

  “Out,” he decided at last with a definite nod.

  I wanted to tell him he was out of his mind. No way was I going to park my butt on twisted bits of metal that had been roasting in the sun most of the day. But the verdict had been given and the pair were moving to an empty corner tucked between a potted plant and the window. I stayed rooted to the sidewalk, not by choice, mind you; the rubber on my shoes had begun to fuse into the concrete.

  Peeling free, I shuffled my way forward, careful not to nudge the other diners as I edged around them. The narrow path was not designed for a man my size.

  There was one seat available when I finally reached the table. I dropped into it. The cool metal felt amazing against the puddles of sweat collecting between my clothes and skin. Part of me wanted to strip naked and hug the thing to me.

  I was seriously dying.

  “You have to try the cheeseburger,” Ali was telling Earl when I struggled to pay attention. “I’m pretty sure they’re laced with crack.”

  Earl laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever had crack laced burgers before. Will definitely try it.” He sobered and turned shiny brown eyes on me. Reflexively, I stiffened. “So there’s a reason I asked you both here.” He folded his hands neatly on the table and straightened his shoulder. “I think we need to discuss what’s going on between you two.”

  I was only partially relieved when Ali looked as confounded as I felt.

  “There is nothing going on between us,” I told him.

  “I know!” Earl said with more than just a hint of exasperation. “That’s the problem. You two need to start getting along, especially since you’ll be working together.”

  Ali shifted uncomfortably. “Earl, I told you—”

  “I know what you told me,” Earl interrupted. “But I refuse to accept it. Now, the only thing standing in our way of moving forward is the two of you, so.” He glanced from me to Ali and back. “What are we going to do about it?” His bushy eyebrows lifted when neither of us responded. “Okay, well, why don’t we start with you, Gabriel? Why don’t you tell us your reservations?”

  I couldn’t make up my mind if this was an intervention, an interrogation, or a counseling session. Whichever it was, between it and the sun, I was ready to strangle a baby.

  “Grandpa, if you want to hire her, hire her. It’s your shop.”

  Earl sighed. “One day, it will be yours and you need to know how to do this stuff.”

  “What stuff?” I countered, a little too sha
rply. “I know how to run a business.”

  Earl gave me that look. It was a mix between pitying, sorrowful, and defeated. I hated it. I didn’t understand it. I was fine. Didn’t I look fine? Hadn’t I done all I could to be fine? I wasn’t going to fall to pieces damn it!

  “If you want her to work at the shop,” I started slowly, choosing my words carefully and calmly. “Then I will support that decision. I will even get her name stamped on the office door. Whatever you want. Just leave me out of it.”

  There was a reason I didn’t like women at my shop. There was a reason I didn’t like women period. Life was less complicated without them and it took me a long time to get to a place I was finally happy. I was ready to move on and maybe even live again. I wasn’t going to let Earl, or Ali ruin that for me.

  “Look, this really isn’t a problem,” Ali interrupted. “I’m not going to force myself into a place I’m not wanted. Besides, Jack’s right—” Who the fuck was Jack? “—I don’t belong there. I don’t know the first thing about automotive work.” She touched Earl’s hand lightly. “But thank you for caring so much.”

  Earl started to answer her when the waitress took that moment to appear. Green eyes spotted Ali and widened as big as the grin that blossomed across her face.

  “Ali!”

  Ali started, visibly surprised before she offered a smile back. “Hey Jen!”

  Jen darted a glance over the table at me and Earl, confusion and surprise tangling her thin eyebrows together.

  “You brought guests,” she observed, her tone suggesting this wasn’t a common thing. “Does this mean you’ll be eating in?”

  “Yeah.” Ali fidgeted slightly. “This is Earl and his grandson. I thought they’d like to try out the burgers.”

  Grandson. Not even Jack. It really shouldn’t have bothered me, yet I was irked that she refused to say my name.

  “Hi!” Jen said. “I’m Jen.” She produced leather bound menus from beneath her arm and set them down on the table. “I’m going to be your waitress. Can I start you guys off with drinks?”

  I ordered a beer. I needed a beer. Earl got coffee and Ali ordered an iced tea.

  Jen jotted it all down quickly. “Great. I’ll be right back with those. You guys go ahead and look over the menu.”

  She hurried off and we just sat in silence that felt extra heavy thanks to the heat. All I could think about was crawling on top of the table and napping.

  The shriek of Earl’s chair legs against the slabs of concrete making up the patio jolted me partially awake.

  “Going to hit the head,” he declared. “First thing to go when you get old, your bladder.”

  Ali chuckled, but no one said anything as he ambled away, leaving me alone with Ali.

  We didn’t speak. She seemed not to notice. Her focus had clung to the couple a few tables over. The light was reflecting off her glasses, so I couldn’t make out her eyes, but her head was tilted a notch to the left and she seemed utterly focused. After a moment, she huh’d in interest and cocked her head right.

  “What?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

  She gave an inconspicuous jerk of her chin towards the couple. “They’re having an affair.”

  That was not something I had been expecting. My own interest perked out of sheer curiosity and I turned my head an inch or so over my shoulder to study the pair through the restaurant window.

  The girl was in her early twenties with shiny blonde hair that fell in a sleek sheet down her back. The man was older, but not so old to draw attention. Possibly in his mid to late thirties. He wore a dark gray suit and his brown hair was combed back from an attractive face. He had an arm around the back of the girl’s chair and was leaning close to murmur into her ear. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. They appeared to be a normal couple out to dinner.

  “How can you tell?” I wondered.

  “He’s wearing a ring,” Ali murmured. “She’s not. He’s trying to convince her to stay, but she’s not sure that’s a good idea, although I’m not sure if she’s unsure because he’s married, or because he has kids.”

  The married assumption made sense—I saw the gold band around his finger—but…

  “How do you know he has kids?”

  “Baby spit on his shoulder.”

  Sure enough, there was a faint patch on his right shoulder that was darker than the rest of the suit, like the spot had been scrubbed at with a wet cloth.

  Now I huh’d, genuinely impressed. I wasn’t in the habit of watching other people on a normal, day to day basis. Maybe because I wasn’t normally a fan of people. People had a way of bringing out the homicidal psychopath in me. There were days I marveled at my own willpower not to snap. But it did make me curious about my companion. So much about her just didn’t add up and I wasn’t a man who liked unresolved ends.

  “What’s your story?” I asked, fixing her with the full force of my attention.

  Her head tipped in my direction and I wanted to snatch those godforsaken glasses off her face so I could see her eyes. It was impossible to read a person when you couldn’t see what they were thinking. I hated that she hid behind them and the frizzy mess of hair drifting around her face. Everything about her felt like a mask she was trying to put between herself and the world and I couldn’t figure out why.

  “My story?”

  I nodded and leaned back in my chair. “Yeah, who are you?”

  Her head tipped to the side and she peered into me, studying me the way she had been studying that couple, like she was trying to pick me apart, or maybe she was picking apart my question. Although, I couldn’t fathom why. It was a rational question. Normal even.

  “Are you asking as a man, or as someone who could potentially be my boss?”

  Her response intrigued me. I hadn’t thought of that and it left me trying to decide how to respond.

  “Does it matter?” I finally asked.

  “Yes,” she said simply. “There are things I could tell a man I was interested in taking to bed that I wouldn’t tell my boss.”

  Her blunt, honest answer sent a hot sizzle through me, igniting all the places that had been dormant for a damn long time. It reminded me that I hadn’t had a woman in more years than was probably considered healthy, or normal. It reminded me that she was a woman behind her mask. But above all that, it illuminated things, small, subtle things that I wouldn’t normally allow myself to notice. Like how soft her mouth looked and how the color reminded me of a warm, freshly spanked ass. She had nice lips, a little thin on top, but the bottom made up for it. The curve was slightly off, a barely noticeable notch too high on the right, but that only seemed to add to its appeal. Her chin was tapered to a subtle point, not sharp, but not square and her nose turned up ever so slightly, giving the line an almost regal flare. Everything else was strategically tucked away and it filled me with an urgency I wasn’t accustomed to feeling.

  “Boss,” I said at last.

  I wasn’t sure I could handle the answer to the latter. I wasn’t willing to brand those answers into my head. She already had the ability to make my mind drift to things it shouldn’t. I didn’t want images of other men in her bed.

  “I’m observant,” she stated evenly. “Sometimes that gets me into trouble. I’m sarcastic and I lack the discipline to keep my thoughts to myself.” Her head tilted to the side and she continued to study me. “But apart from those things, I’m smart, I learn fast and I will never lie to you.”

  It was all said with the professionalism one would expect of an interviewee vying for the position, but the truth beneath each word hummed around us long after she stopped speaking.

  “That doesn’t tell me who you are,” I murmured. “My grandfather is sold on you and I want to know why.”

  She was saved from having to answer by Jen with our drinks. My beer was set in front of me and Ali got her iced tea.

  “Your meals will be out shortly,” she told Ali.

  Ali frowned. “We haven’t ordered y
et.”

  “Oh, your friend did,” Jen said happily. “He paid for everything and told me to tell you to enjoy and he’d see you back at the shop tomorrow.”

  Ali’s head shot in my direction, but I must not have given her the reaction she was expecting, because her shock turned into suspicion.

  “Did you know?”

  I rubbed a hand back through my hair. “I suspected.”

  It was amusing, watching her try and piece that together.

  “Why would he leave?”

  “Because he wants us to work it out and bond.”

  “Bond?” she mimicked like the notion was foreign and a little offensive. “I don’t want to bond with you.”

  Well, at least she hadn’t been lying about the not lying bit. But her reaction prickled something else inside me.

  “Were you hoping for a romantic dinner with Earl?”

  Her mouth clamped shut and she jerked back an inch like my words had physically slapped her. Something sharp and intense sparked behind her glasses and that was all the warning I got before the entire contents of her glass was dumped over my head. Cubes of ice clunked against the top of my scalp before finding their way down the back of my shirt. Sticky, cold liquid drenched my clothes and flattened my hair to my face. I would have exclaimed in horror, but all I could manage was to shove my chair back and leap to my feet in silent outrage as iced tea rained down my forehead.

  “That,” she seethed, slamming her glass down, “was the third time you accused me of being a whore and it better be the last.”

  She stalked off, leaving me to seethe in silence as the stunned waitress watched on with her hands over her mouth. I couldn’t even find the sense to be embarrassed that we had drawn the attention of, not only the people on the patio, but also those walking by and a few more peering out from inside the restaurant. All I wanted to do was strangle the woman responsible.

  As if summoned by the mere thought of my rage, Ali stormed back. She snatched up my beer, and for one oh you better fucking not moment, I thought she was going to dump that on me as well, or hurl the whole bottle. Instead, she shoved it into Jen’s hands.