Boy Next Door (Parkside Avenue Book #2) by Raquel Lyon Read Free Book Online

left.
    “I thought I asked you to
change.”
    “Demanded, you mean. And I told
you I’m not going anywhere. I have things to do, this afternoon.”
    Damn, she frustrated the hell out
of me. Any other woman and I’d have called off the chase by now, and yet all I
could think about was devouring her, every infuriating inch of her. “Such as?”
    “Clean this mess up. Prepare tea
for Vanessa—”
    “Boring.” I spun out the word.
    “And I have brownies to make for
my wine club tonight.”
    Bingo. Our first day out could wait.
“I love brownies. Teach me how to make them.” It wasn’t a lie. My sweet tooth
threw a bunch of cash the bakery’s way with alarming regularity, but I’d never
actually attempted anything homemade.
    “I’m sure you have better things
to do.”
    “Well I was going to take a
beautiful woman out on a date but she cancelled at the last minute.”
    She pursed her lips with
vexation. “I meant something that doesn’t include me.”
    “Nope. I want to make brownies,”
I said resolutely.
    “I’m not getting rid of you, am
I?”
    “I’m going to be that annoying
piece of gum that gets stuck to your shoe and you can’t shift however hard you
try.”
    Her face creased into a smile,
her breath blowing soft puffs down her nose. I loved that I’d made her chuckle.
“Fine,” she said.
    When the ingredients were laid
regimentally on the worktop, Cora set to work measuring them out.
    “Right. What do we do first?” I
asked.
    “It’s quite simple,” she said. “Break
the chocolate into that bowl, and I’ll whip the eggs.”
    “Do I get to nibble a bit?” I
asked, holding the bar to my open mouth.
    She smacked my hand away,
playfully. “If you’re going to mess about, this is going to take all afternoon.”
    I lowered my eyes, sheepishly.
“Sorry. Blame my grandmother.”
    “What for?”
    “My love of chocolate. She often
slipped a bar in my trouser pocket when Mum wasn’t looking.”
    Cora’s eyes flicked to my face.
“Do you miss your mother?” she asked, silently instructing me to add butter to
the bowl.
    “Every day. But no, I’m not
looking to replace her, if that was your Freudian thought.”
    “I didn’t mean to imply …”
    “It’s okay. Yes, I miss my mum. I
miss both my parents. Pappa is great, but he shouldn’t be burdened with dependants
at his age. That’s why I’m aiming to set myself up as soon as possible.”
    The ingredients came together, and
when Cora turned away, I purposely covered my hands with flour. Then when she
wasn’t expecting it, I grabbed her by the hips, moving her to the side so that
I could stir the mixture. Her waist was slim and delicate, her hips full and
firm. A small thrill warmed through me as I stole sideways glances at my
handprints on her ass, as I worked. Soon I would turn them into a lasting
impression.
    “It’s good to have ambition,” she
said. “By the time I was your age, I was married with two children.”
    “But you were happy.”
    “Yes. I was.” She peered into the
bowl. “Okay. It’s ready for the tin now,” she said. “I’ll do it. You’ll probably
spill it all over the counter.”
    My interference had turned a
routine job into a children’s baking session. Cora’s pristine kitchen had more
than a few new pieces of artwork splattered around it, and I guessed it had
taken far longer than normal to do the job, but I was pleased she didn’t seem
to mind. I certainly didn’t. The more time I spent in her company, the more it
was all I wanted to do. “Fair enough, but I get to lick the spoon.”
    She laughed. “My daughters used
to fight over who got to do that.”
    “I haven’t seen them around much.
Where are they?”
    “Amy spends most of her time at
her boyfriend’s apartment, nowadays. It’s really only Vanessa and me now, but
she’s out more often than she’s in. Although, I am expecting her home soon,”
she said, placing the tin in the oven. “It might be a good idea if you