I Love You, My Neighbour: Chapter 14
Right now, I'm the horny dog
Logan
As I pull up outside the café where Kristy works, I run a hand through my hair and wonder for the millionth time what the hell I'm thinking. This place is miles out of my way for lunch, and I don't have time to visit during my break. It takes too long to get here and back, and my lunch break is only half an hour.
So, why am I here?
Sure, I'm desperate for a fix of Kristy's orange and poppy seed muffins and her coffee, but I also want to talk to her. She had her first dog obedience training lesson last night, and I wanted to catch up with her afterward. Unfortunately, there was a school meeting for faculty during the evening, so I didn't make it to my new house at all yesterday.
During the staff meeting, I couldn't resist messaging Kristy and asking about her obedience lesson with Cricket. It felt like I was a naughty student trying to text under the principal's nose. I sat there, waiting for her response, struggling to focus on the discussion. When her message finally came through, I couldn't help but reply.
Kristy: It was awful. :( I'm so embarrassed. I don't want to go back.
Me: What happened?
Kristy: Everything! Hey, aren't you supposed to be in a meeting? Your car isn't out front.
My heart did something funny at the thought of her checking if I was next door.
Me: Yep, I'm stuck in a meeting, and it's boring as hell. I keep waiting for the principal to catch me texting and send me to detention.
Kristy: LMAO! I don't want to get you in trouble. Tell you about it later, okay?
That was all I got from her. And that's why I drove out of my way to see her today.
I get out of my truck and walk into the café, immediately spotting Kristy behind the counter. She doesn't notice me because she's dealing with an irate customer in front of her.
"It's a fucking rip-off," the man in the business suit spits. "Ten dollars for a pie, salad, and coffee, and they were rubbish. You shouldn't even call it food."
My adrenaline kicks in immediately as I see the look on Kristy's face. I'm sure she made that pie, maybe even the coffee. This guy must be the first customer to complain about the taste. I've had both the coffee and the food from here, and it's ten times better than anything I've had elsewhere. Clearly, this guy has no taste.
"I'm sorry you feel that way, sir," Kristy says tactfully, though I can hear the irritation she's holding back. "But you could have brought it back if you weren't happy with it. I would have happily given you a refund."
Damn straight. Who eats an entire pie and then complains they don't like it?
"Haven't you heard the saying 'the customer is always right'?" he demands. "What kind of business are you running here? Who cares if I ate it? I want my money back."
My fists clench at the tone of his voice—so condescending and rude. I walk up behind him, ready to give him a piece of my mind. Surprise registers on Kristy's face when she sees me standing there, and, dare I say, relief?
"Hey," I say to the man bothering my neighbour. "You can't eat the whole pie and then ask for a refund. That's not right."
"Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do?" The man looks back at Kristy. "Where's your manager?"
With his two-hundred-dollar suit, slicked-back black hair, and arrogant expression, I doubt anyone has ever said no to this douche nozzle. I want to punch him in the face for pulling this routine on Kristy.
At that moment, a woman in her mid-forties walks out of the kitchen to stand behind the counter with Kristy.
“Can I help you?” she asks the man.
“Are you the manager?”
“It’s my café.”
“Well, I don’t know what sort of business you’re running here, but this girl won’t give me my money back, despite the fact I’ve asked several times.”
“He ate the whole thing before complaining,” I tell Kristy’s manager, ready to jump in and defend my neighbour. “So he can’t have hated it too much.”
The look Kristy’s manager shoots me says, ‘and you are?’
Right. I should probably keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to get Kristy in trouble. But seriously, people like this arrogant arsehole deserve to be taken down a peg or two.
“I’m sorry you didn’t like it,” the woman says pleasantly. “But since you ate it, we can’t give you a refund.”
“Even if I say there was a hair in it?”
Kristy looks at the manager. “There wasn’t. I swear.”
Her manager ignores her. “May I see the hair, please?”
To my surprise, the customer holds up a long, dark hair.
“That’s not mine,” Kristy says.
I have to agree. Kristy’s long, curly hair hangs in a ponytail that is looped around and under. Only a few tendrils of her hair hang loose, softening her already attractive face. The hair the man is holding up isn’t long enough or wavy enough to be hers. And I don’t see anyone else it could belong to either. Did this dickhead bring the hair with him, intending to pull this shit?
The manager sighs. It's clearly not Kristy’s hair, yet she opens the cash register and hands back the money he paid.
“Thank you,” the guy says, opening his wallet. “But I’ll still be giving this place a bad rating on Google.”
Kristy looks as unhappy as I feel.
As soon as the guy turns around, I get in his way.
“You got a problem?” he asks, confidence at an all-time high after his ‘win’.
I cross my arms over my chest. Damn straight. “Yeah, actually, I do.”
He sizes me up, and seeing that I have him beat in height, weight, and muscle mass, he shakes his head and tries to walk past me. I make sure to shoulder him as he walks past—a punishment for being a dick. He tries to hide his pain at the contact, but his pained grunt fills me with satisfaction.
“Well, that’s our total prick allowance for the day,” the owner says, surprising the heck out of me.
“That hair didn’t belong to any of us,” Kristy says to her.
“I know, but I had to give him his money back. He wasn’t planning on leaving without it.” The owner motions to me. “Is this a friend of yours, Kristy?”
“Yes.” Kristy nods. “This is Logan.”
Something warm settles in my chest and gently squeezes. She could have told her boss I’m her neighbour, and it would have been true enough. Instead, she agreed that I’m her friend.
And now that I think about it, I’d probably call her a friend too.
Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve found myself looking for my neighbour every day, making sure she's walking Cricket at a decent hour. If I deemed it too late, I walked with her, even though she told me she was fine. She's popped her head over the fence or knocked on my door daily, checking to see if there's anything I need help with.
And for the past three Saturdays, she’s come over to help me with my house. Even when there's heavy lifting or a specific skill set required, she still helps out any way she can. She'll clean or bring around food for us: muffins, platters of sandwiches, or homemade pies and salad.
My friends are smitten with her, and I can understand why. They're simple creatures—the way to their hearts is through their stomachs. And they find her company easy to be in. She fits in with us in a way I can’t imagine anyone else would. My mates are growing used to having her around.
And so am I.
I've stopped trying to work out why she wants to spend all her spare time helping the guys and me out. Strangely, she seems to enjoy it.
Kristy’s manager smiles at me before turning her attention back to Kristy. “Why don’t you get Logan whatever it is he came here for and then take a break?”
Kristy looks at the line behind me. “But-”
“Don’t worry about this. I’ve got it. Take a breather.”
“Okay,” Kristy says reluctantly before looking at me. “What can I get you?”
“Ah…” I study the case to the right side of me. “I’ll take a homemade chicken pie and salad, and a tall black.”
“Do you want it to go?”
My lunch break is over. I should get it to go, but Kristy is on a break now, and I did come all this way to talk to her.
“I’ll have it here.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, come sit with me while you take your break.”
Her smile is quick. “Okay.”
A few minutes later, she comes over to the booth I’ve chosen. She brings my food and drink, as well as a muffin. The muffin looks like it's one of the apple crumble ones I spotted before, and predictably, my mouth starts watering right away. I’d been craving orange and poppy seed before I walked in here, but now I have a hankering for an apple crumble muffin.
“The muffin is on the house,” she says as she places it in front of me.
Yep, I’m really glad I stayed. “Thank you, but I hope you realize I’m going to have to walk with you every night because of these muffins you keep feeding me.”
She grimaces, sliding into the seat opposite me. “I don’t think walking does any good.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well... I’ve been walking nearly every day since I got Cricket, but it hasn't had the effect I’d hoped for.” Her cheeks turn pink as she studies the muffin she put in front of me. “I’ve cut back on these things, but it’s not making that much difference.”
How much weight is she looking to lose? While she looks at my muffin longingly, I rake my gaze over her. In the uniform she’s wearing, I can see her curves are a tad smaller than they were the first time I met her. So, she is losing something. She looked fine to me weeks ago. If she loses any more weight, she’ll lose more of her curves. Which would be a shame for mankind. Izzy had been slender and small up top, and I’d loved it, but when I’d been a horny teenager, I’d jacked off over pictures of a good pair of tits. My point is, men like curves.
“You can’t cut sweet stuff completely out of your diet,” I say. “A moderate amount is okay.”
“It has been a moderate amount lately. I just... I’m still not seeing the results I want to see.”
“What results are you looking for?” I ask. “Please tell me you’re not obsessed with looking like a twig. It’s not attractive.”
More heat creeps up her face as she lifts her gaze to meet mine. “I don’t want to look like a twig. I just want to be skinnier than I am right now.”
I don’t ask just how much skinnier, since she’s never going to tell me how much she weighs, and I’m not rude enough to ask.
“Do you have a goal weight in mind?” I ask instead. “That’s the first step of weight loss.”
She nods. “I do.”
“Good, that’s a start. And are you telling me you haven’t lost anything since you started working towards that goal?”
“I’ve lost a little under four kilos.”
“In how many weeks?”
“Four and a half.”
“That’s pretty good considering your size. I mean, you’re not big to begin with. You can’t expect to drop massive numbers.”
“I can’t?”
I shake my head. “So, be happy. The walking is paying off.”
She blows out a breath, still eyeing my muffin. “I guess that’s good then.”
“Here.” I push the muffin towards her. “Have some. You look like you need it.”
“No. I really can’t?”
She sounds so unsure it comes out more as a question, causing me to chuckle. I attack the muffin with my clean fork, cutting off a piece and holding the fork out to her. Frowning, she takes it from me, clearly debating with herself about whether she should eat. After a moment, she gives in, opening her mouth and sliding the morsel inside.
Seeing her eyes close and hearing her soft moan brings images to mind that I can't shake off fast enough. It's all too easy to imagine she's enjoying something other than food, especially since her cheeks are already a little pink.
It hits me out of nowhere, like a punch in the gut – a craving for physical intimacy like I haven't experienced in years. I'm not just thinking about it; I need it. Want it. Heat zaps along my spine, tightens my belly and thighs, and blood floods my groin as I watch her.
I thought my desire to be with someone died when Izzy did. I’ve been satisfied with jerking off when the need takes me, not willing and not able to think about anything or anyone as I pleasure myself. Fantasies have been a thing of the past. But suddenly, needs I believed dead are exploding to the surface and obliterating my carefully constructed self-perception.
Unbidden, an image of my neighbour flat on her back on the table between us, her uniform rucked up around her waist and my cock buried inside her as she moans just like that, pops into my head.
My heart hammers in my chest, and my dick throbs as I imagine Kristy’s legs wrapped around my waist and her body pulsing around mine. I imagine her scratching her nails down my back, begging me to fuck her hard. I imagine unzipping the top of her dress and seeing those magnificent tits bouncing as I fuck her. My mouth waters at the mere thought of suckling on one ripe nipple and bringing her to orgasm.
Does she like it as hard and fast and hot and heavy as I do?
My balls tighten when she opens her eyes and looks right at me.
Desperate for a distraction, I pick up the coffee in front of me and take a long sip, burning the back of my throat in the process. I relish the pain – the closest thing I have to a cold shower at the moment.
Catching me wince, she asks, “Are you okay?”
No. No, I’m not okay. Having these thoughts isn’t okay. My libido and I have been on the same wavelength since Izzy died. Now, it seems to be rebelling after this extended period of non-action.
Well, it can go to hell. I have no intention of indulging in this new and unwanted fantasy. My focus is on friendship, not sex. I'm not interested in breaking my drought and getting involved with someone, especially not my neighbour whom I see every day and will be living next to for an undetermined amount of time.
Someone who, in a short period, has become my friend.
“I’m fine.”
At least I will be once my libido calms down, and I regain my focus.
“So, tell me,” I start, clearing my throat and subtly readjusting myself. “How did the dog lesson go last night?”
Kristy groans and covers her face. “It was awful.”
“Come on. It can’t have been that bad. Tell me what happened.”
I need the distraction. I want her to help me escape my imagination and fantasies more than I want my next breath.
“I don’t even know if Cricket has been neutered,” she admits. “I thought he had been, but… well, he took a liking to another dog there, and now I’m wondering if I imagined his previous owners telling me that he was.”
“If he hasn’t, it might explain some of his behaviour,” I think aloud. “It could be that there was a bitch in heat, or it could have been dominance-related.”
“I need to find out. Maybe I shouldn’t go back to the class until I’ve taken him to the vet? I don’t want to go back on the waiting list.”
“No, you should keep going. Definitely.”
She shakes her head. “Logan, if you’d seen their faces when my dog…”
“Tried to hump theirs?” I finish for her.
Right now, I feel like the horny dog – one who needs to be neutered.
“They were horrified, and so was I. I tried to keep Cricket away from them, but he wouldn’t listen to anything I said, not like when I’ve been at home. He’s been really good lately. Maybe I should just keep training him from home. With your help, of course.”
“You need to socialize him, Kristy. And he needs to get used to being out with you.”
“I know. It’s just…”
“How about I come with you next week?” I ask.
She bites her lip, drawing my attention to how soft and plump her lips are before I force my gaze back to hers. “I didn’t want to ask, and at first, I thought it might interfere with my ability to get Cricket to follow my orders, but…”
“It’s fine. I won’t get in the way. I’ll just be there to give you some moral support.” I grin. “And pull him off the other dogs.”
She sighs and nods. “Then yes. Please come. I’ll owe you big time.”
“Kristy, you use the one day off you have every week to help me renovate my house. Plus, you give me free food. Trust me, no payment is necessary. If anyone owes anything here, it’s me.”
Her smile is wide, and she looks happy for the first time since I walked into the café, and once again I find myself acknowledging that my friends were right – she has a very attractive face.
“Thanks, Logan. I guess I should get back to it.”
“Okay. I’ll probably see you later tonight.”
“You’re going to be at the house tonight?”
“I’m going to stay, I think.”
Between the drive here and back to the school and then out to the house again when school is finished, I'm sure I'll be too tired to go home tonight. I now have a mattress at the new place, coat hangers and clothes, and toiletries. I can make do for one night.
She nods. “Good. I hate the idea of you driving back when you’re tired.”
Heat unfurls inside me at the thought that she cares about me like that, but I quickly try to douse it with mental cold water.
Kristy and I are neighbours and friends, despite my earlier imaginings. Nothing more. I'll never be over Izzy, and I'll always be too broken to love another woman the way I loved my fiancée. And I'd be doing both Kristy and myself a favour by remembering and respecting that fact.