Boys Next Door Read Online Free Page B

promise to check out the dog salon and the community theatre. I planned on only keeping one of those promises.
    Driving only halfway down the block, the bakery started calling my name. More of a sinister sultry wooing sound, if you must know. I hadn’t eaten since getting on the road and something flaky, sugary and warm sounded perfect.
    ‘Post-stranger sex snack,’ I chuckled and pulled into one of the street’s angled parking spots. Right in front of the bakery. Score!
    Vogel’s was small.
Really
small. Like a closet with two small tables up front and Venetian blinds in the front window.
    I pushed in and a tiny bell overhead jingled merrily. The man behind the counter looked up at me. Black hair, grey eyes, lean face, lanky body. I felt a tremor in my belly and wondered if moving to a new place had set off all my sex hormones, and being attracted to almost every man I came across was a side effect.
    ‘Hi,’ he said.
    I waved. ‘Hi, I need sugar.’ When I said it, my stomach rumbled.
    He waved me up to the counter and I stepped forward as if approaching royalty. ‘Sugar as far as the eye can see,’ he said. ‘Coffee?’
    Now that I was in the store, the smell of richly roasted coffee assaulted me with its heady scent. ‘Yes, please,’ I said as if in mid-orgasm. My face flushed hot and red, I was damn sure by the sunburned feel of it, but I didn’t care. Elephant ears, chocolate croissants, donuts, biscotti, shortbreads. It was all there. Waiting for me.
    My stomach rumbled again and he laughed. ‘Here you go.’ The cup was warm and the brief touch of his finger to mine, a bit warmer.
    ‘Thanks. I’m starved.’
    ‘When did you eat last?’ he asked, appraising me with a faux disciplinarian air that had me feeling squirmy.
    ‘Um, six hours ago?’
    He tsked and pulled a plain croissant from the bottom shelf. ‘Sit. I’ll make you a nice chicken salad sandwich. Once you’ve eaten
food
you can have some sugar.’
    I gaped at him, mildly confused but also kind of turned on. I was losing my mind. ‘I, um … I don’t have much money on me I think. I might have to stick with the coffee and a don –’
    He waved me off and pointed to a table. ‘Sit. On the house. You’re new, right, not just passing through?’
    ‘Right.’
    ‘Welcome to town, then. Lunch is on me.’ He leaned on the counter and grinned at me. The grin made him look both handsome and ethereal. I couldn’t help but stare for a beat or two before taking a step back to have a seat.
    ‘Well, thanks Mr …’ My ass hit the seat but my eyes never left him. I was getting a feeling. A weird déjà vu feeling.
    ‘Stephen. Stephen Vogel. This is my family’s joint. And you are …’
    ‘I’m Farrell McGee, I’ve moved into Lady Bug Lane,’ I whispered.
    His eyes lit up and he shook his head, chuckling. ‘213’s missing resident.’
    There it was. My toes tingled and my nose went chilly and I sighed. ‘How did you know?’
    ‘I live across the street. Stone house –’
    ‘To the right from my perspective,’ I finished.
    He grinned again and I felt it in my lower half like a tingle and a flash. ‘Yep. That’s me.’
    And here we had the third and final little pig.
    * * *
    ‘Much better than just sugar, right?’ He put a plate with a biscotti and a donut on it in front of me.
    The chicken salad had been impeccable, the croissant damn near orgasmic. Paired with some chips and a pickle plus water and coffee, I was ready to bust, but I picked up the biscotti and nibbled it.
    ‘I feel like the suckling pig at the luau,’ I laughed.
    ‘Nonsense. You’re darn near too thin.’ Stephen took my plate and I handed him my empty coffee cup. Our fingers touched again. An unmistakable zing that only came with attraction sizzled up my arm. I had to focus hard to keep from shaking myself to throw off the sudden charge of energy.
    ‘That is the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day,’ I joked.
    ‘Eat your sweets.’ He turned from