“I’ll be back on Sunday,” I remind him. “You can handle anything that pops up before that.”
“You know it,” he says. “Later.”
He ends the call, leaving me to think about my next move. I glance at the expansive kitchen where I’ve cooked many meals. I haven’t baked anything, though, but there’s no time like the present.
I stalk toward the kitchen to see what I can whip together to take over to my temporary neighbor as a peace offering since I plunged into her pool without her permission.
Mrs. Frye told me I could use the pool whenever I please, but still, I should make amends with the beautiful redhead.
I stop just short of the kitchen island because I know exactly what I need to do to get in front of the umbrella-wielding woman again as soon as possible.
I sprint toward the main bedroom to get dressed since I’m fresh out of the shower and only wearing black boxer briefs.
She got an eyeful of me already today, so I’ll cover up since I plan on heading over to see her now.
CHAPTER FOUR
Holden
The pink tanktop and denim cutoffs my temporary neighbor was wearing earlier have been replaced with white shorts and a matching T-shirt with the word ‘Summer’ printed across the front of it in a rainbow of colors.
Her fiery red hair is now tied up in a messy top knot. Freckles dot her nose, but it’s her eyes that I can’t stop staring at. They’re cobalt blue and bordered with long lashes.
She’s so fucking enchanting that I lose my ability to speak.
“Can I help you?” she asks as if I interrupted the most important meeting of her life.
I nod like a bobble head doll as I try to keep my gaze locked on her face, but with her toned, tanned legs on display, that’s not an easy task.
“Summer,” I read her shirt. “Is that your name or an homage to the season?”
The corners of her lips quirk up a touch, but I don’t quite get a smile. “My name?”
“Is that a question?” I push. “Or a confirmation?”
She studies me carefully, her eyes drifting from my face down to the light blue T-shirt I’m wearing and beyond to the faded jeans I put on before I left my house to come here. “Are you asking if my name is Summer?”
“Is it?” I push, expecting her to offer her actual name to me.
“Sure,” she says with a grin.
I try to put her on the spot with my next question. “What’s your last name, Summer?”
“Time,” she answers quickly, and that comes with a smile.
Jesus, that smile could make men forget everything but her.
I can’t help but chuckle because my roundabout attempt to get her to tell me her name just went off the rails. “Your name is Summer Time?”
“For all you know, it is. What’s your name?”
It’s been a long time since I’ve used an alias with a woman. I used to do it because of my family’s wealth and my grandmother’s constant reminder that with money comes curiosity. She wanted me to protect myself, so I resorted to using a fake name for one-night stands. I haven’t done that in years, though.
The last time I hooked up with a woman I had just met was a few months ago when I was in Philadelphia for business. I introduced myself as Holden Sheppard before I took her to my hotel room for the night. A week later, she was at my office in Manhattan with her resume in hand, expecting a high paying position within my organization.
She was certainly qualified, but I had nothing to offer her other than a polite and unequivocalno. Mixing business with pleasure is something I try to avoid. I had no interest in partaking in more pleasure with her, but that didn’t mean I wanted her anywhere near my business dealings.
Many people stopped their work to stare when she stormed away after I handed her resume back to her. I blame that on thefact that she announced to everyone within earshot that when we fucked I promised her a corner office and a six figure salary.
