The Neighbor (The Neighbor #1)

THE
NEIGHBOR #1

Book
1

By
Claire Adams

This
book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are
products of the writer's imagination or
have been used
fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons,
living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely
coincidental.

Copyright
© 2014 Claire Adams

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Chapter
One

I started volunteer work because it looked good on
my college applications. Applying to more than one college was just a formality
for me. It showed that I had broad horizons and that I was willing to attend
college anywhere. I was not afraid to travel across the country if the
financial aid package was good and the course study fit my needs. I would
bravely leave behind the familiar. I would never choose a college or university
based on who went there.
Especially if it was an old
boyfriend whom I considered a good friend.
The entire premise was a lie.
I was scared to leave South Carolina and the friends and family that I loved.
Following Max to the University of South Carolina made sense. I would be close
enough to home to travel back on the weekends if I wanted. Max would watch out
for me and we had a past sexual relationship that we could tap
into
.
Only if we got lonely, of course.

Therefore, my passion for volunteer work happened
because of my lie. I ended up enjoying working with wounded veterans. Magnolia
Country Club hosted the event annually. Magnolia was a public golf course but
with greens fees as high as $330 it had the feel of a private club. Only
certain people could afford a round of golf at Magnolia. Veterans got a deal
and on this weekend, they played free.

As a volunteer, I drove a golf cart all day. I
passed out cold beverages and snacks to the players. They gave me a nametag
shaped as a magnolia emblazoned with my name – Jenna Walsh. It was not a bad
gig. The added benefit was the reception that followed with heavy hors de
oeuvres. I checked with my mom regarding the meaning of heavy. She told me that
they were springing for some substantial food. I could expect more than carrots
and ranch but I shouldn’t expect a full meal. It was free and fancy so I would
eat until I was stuffed.

Famished after a morning run with some school
friends followed by a day in the sun, I headed for the seafood table. I went
for the biggest shrimp I could see and poked a tanned forefinger with my
toothpick.

“Shit – oops, excuse my language. You just harpooned
me with your toothpick.”

Attached to the bronzed digit was a man’s hand that
went along with a spectacular body. My gaze eventually got to his head, which
was no disappointment.

“I’m sorry. I saw that shrimp and I just had to have
it,” I quipped.

“I see you will go to any lengths to get what you
want. I’m Ryder Curran. I would shake your hand but I’m wounded.”

“Wounded? Look around you. Some of these folks
are truly wounded
. They are missing limbs in some cases. You
don’t see them whining and you can’t handle a little poke from a toothpick.”

“If you think I can’t take being poked you should
know—” Ryder stopped.

“I should know what?”

“You should know that I donated blood last week. I’m
tough.”

“I don’t believe you. Show me your arm. I donate
blood all of the time and I can see if you have been pricked.”

Ryder rolled up his left sleeve.

“You must have had a shitty phlebotomist. Was she
blind?” I looked at the bruise on his arm.

“No. My veins are difficult to find. They call them
rolling veins.”

He’s a smartass.

“I’m Jenna Walsh.”

“Yeah, I know. I like your flower nametag.” Ryder
smiled which showed he had great teeth. They say you can tell a lot about a
person by the shoes they wear. I thought teeth were more telling.

“I hope your wound heals quickly. It will not be a
big deal unless you’re a surgeon. You aren’t are you?” I was being crafty in
finding out more about the handsome stranger.

“As a matter of fact.
I am a neurosurgeon. I have a slice and dice job at 8 am tomorrow.” Ryder
looked stoic.

“Oh my god.
Of all of the hands to stab.
I have to pick a
doctor’s.” My jaw fell open.

“Got
ya
.
You are cute.
And gullible.
Nice combination but you
had better watch out. Someone might come along and take advantage of you.”

“Don’t call me cute.
Anything but
cute.
My father called me that when I was in pigtails. As far as
gullible goes – I’m not,” I shot back.

“Relax Jenna. Cute is a compliment. I am sure your
boyfriend would agree,” he said.

I blushed.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” I was honest. I liked to
say I was a girl who kissed a lot of boys and had a lot of fun. I was however,
not a slut.

“That surprises me. What occupies your time?” Ryder
asked.

“I feel like I’m being interviewed. What do I get if
I pass?” I joked. But he winked, sending
goosebumps
up my spine. “I do many things. I am getting ready for college. I will be a
freshman at South Carolina. That alone keeps me busy. I volunteer, play in a
summer soccer league, run about thirty miles per week, hang with friends and I
get in the occasional game of tennis.”

“Do you golf? It seems like a logical question since
we are at one of the world’s finest golf courses.”

“I have golfed a little. I know what a birdie is and
a bogie. I am a force when it comes to miniature golf. There is an awesome
little course not far from here. It
’s designed
to look
like New York City. I always get a hole in one on the Brooklyn Bridge. Since I
am not focused on anything until I begin school, there are quite a few club
sports that am looking into.”

“You have strong legs from running and tennis has
taught you to keep your eye on the ball. I was hooked on golf in college. It is
a great way to spend time with people. It is a great way to solve your
boyfriend problem.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend
problem
. I just don’t have a boyfriend.”

This Ryder guy was stuck on the boyfriend issue.

“Sorry.
Leaving the boyfriend
thing aside.
I think it’s a waste if you don’t try golf. You don’t have
to be great. Some people really suck and they are still a blast on the links. I
was out with an 80-year old man the other day. It is something you will always
be able to do.”

“Do you work for the PGA? It sounds like you are
trying to recruit me.”

He chuckled. “I have a proposition.” Ryder’s green
eyes sparkled.

“Okay…What is it?”

I did not know what he was planning on proposing but
just thought made my heart rate pick up speed.

“Join me on the driving range tomorrow. I will show
you some basics. We can also hit the putting green. I’m patient. I taught Sammy
how to play.”

“Who is Sammy?” I asked.

It was probably a curvaceous Samantha.

“Just someone I know. So will you meet me? Summer is
ending. I will get you swinging straight by the time you head out.”

“I already swing straight,” I joked, hoping he got
it.

He laughed. “I’m glad you’re straight. Now are you
going to meet me tomorrow or do I have to beg?” His white teeth shined as he
smiled.

“I’d love to see you beg,” I told him and grinned. “
But
I won’t make you. I have nothing
better to do. I will be in the pro shop at about 10 AM. Does that work for
you?” I asked.

“I will see you there. Consider it a date. I hate to
run but my phone is vibrating. It sucks that you can’t use phones in this
place. Someone needs to change the rule.” Ryder grinned and walked away.

The word “date” reverberated in my ear
.
Oh, shit. He looked older than
me
but god was he sexy.

Chapter
Two

I woke up to my buzzing television the next morning.
I fell asleep to season three of
Game of
Thrones
. I was binge watching the first few seasons, which I had missed. It
took a moment for my head to clear. Was I really meeting Ryder? What had I been
thinking when I accepted his proposal? I realized that I did not even have his
phone number so I couldn’t cancel.

I threw on a t-shirt to cover up since I always
slept in the nude.
It was a habit I would have to break at
college.
I would not know my roommate and it would probably make her
uncomfortable.

“Good morning mom,” I said, walking into the
kitchen. I gave my mother a squeeze, as I had done for as long as I was alive.

“Hey Jen.
What do you have planned for the day?”

“Oh, just stuff. I have nothing earth shattering
going on. I am meeting this guy, who is going to give me golfing lessons,” I
said casually.

“Jenna, I didn’t know you were interested in golf,”
she responded surprised.

“I’m not. When an amazingly hot guy asks you to
golf, you get interested in a hurry.”

“I golfed for a while with your father before he got
sick. I probably have some gear you can use.”

“I have already raided your closet. No offense mom.
Your stuff is frumpy,” I remarked.

“I am not frumpy Jenna. Check in with me after you
give birth to three kids. We can’t all have your athletic frame.”

“I have seen photos of you back in the day. You were
a hot little thing once.”

“
Once
?
I’m not even fifty yet. I can still get
my joy engine revved up,” she said and laughed.

“Oh my god!
TMI Mom! If you have a joy engine, I don’t want to know about it.” I laughed. I
wanted more than
anything
for my mother to find a
special someone, but anything sex related like thumbtacks in my ears.

As I sipped my coffee, I noticed movers next-door.
They were moving someone in.

“Hey Mom, what’s going on with the house next-door.
It looks as though someone is finally moving in.”

The house was easily the most expensive house on the
block.

“It is a single man. I saw him the other day and he
is very good looking,” she noted.

“Mom, maybe he’s the one for you. Wouldn’t that be
convenient? You two could add some flavor to this neighborhood. The gossip
would be worth listening
to
. He could come by for late
night visits and you could hop the fence over to his place.”

“Jenna, I am just not ready for a relationship yet.
I saw the stuff he is moving in. He has enough electronics to fill the place.
He also has a lot of gym equipment, a set of golf clubs and a couple of fancy
bikes. Unfortunately, I think he is too old for you.”

“Too old for me and too young for you,” I said.

“I never said he was too young for me. I like
younger men.”

“You are one of a kind mom.”

“Why don’t you at least welcome him to the
neighborhood? You should bake something for him or bring him some of that
homemade jam we made last summer,” she suggested.

“The jam might kill him. We made that when I was a
freshman in high school. I will make him an apple pie. We will seem
so
wholesome. I am curious about this
guy. I would like to meet him.”

I made a pie with some frozen crust I found in the
freezer. I was tempted to run to the store and pick up a
Marie Calendars
but the apples were handy. I took my semi-homemade
concoction to the bungalow next-door.

I was curious to meet the man that my mom believed
to be hot. There were times when our generation gap seemed as wide as the Grand
Canyon. When I mentioned that I loved JT, she thought I was referring to James
Taylor. Justin Timberlake was more my style. Maybe the chasm caused by our age
was smaller when it came to our taste in men. She said he was too old for me. I
just wanted to check him out for myself.