Lots of Naughty & A Little Nice - Leigh Lennon Page 0,1

don’t need that piece of art, and in a matter of seconds, I’m no longer in the holiday spirit. I turn the music to my normal country station and put the car in reverse. Once I’m out of my spot, I gun the car to make my anger known. The fucker with the amazing azure eyes can go home and fuck himself, and this comes from someone who doesn’t even really swear.

Knox

Through the gallery windows, I see my man in deep conversation with a woman, but all I can make out is her deep brown, almost black hair as she tightens a scarf around her neck. It’s odd for my man to talk to strangers, but the idea of him working through his social anxiety makes me smile.

And my heart squeezes for the man who holds all my love in his hands. He’s everything I never thought I needed in my life. I turn my attention to closing my gallery. I’d been waiting longer because I’d gotten a call today about my newest creation I have hanging in my window. Maybe she was just being courteous when she found out the high price for the item.

By the time I’m at the door and turn around to lock it, my guy is by himself on the snow-scattered sidewalks of downtown Lovelace.

“Hey, hon,” I call out. It’s his night to choose what we’ll have for dinner. It’ll most likely be my least favorite takeout option of Chinese, but then again, as long as I’m with him, my future, I’ll eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every day of the week.

“Hey, Ro, hon.” I lean over his shoulder and place a peck on his cheek. He doesn’t respond, and I’m looking at the empty spot that is supposed to belong to me, but it’s always taken. “What’s wrong, hon, and what are you staring at?”

He spins around, a look I’ve seen way too many times on Rowan’s face. He’s not a social person and misses cues most everyone else understands. To Ro, it’s right or wrong, and there’s no middle ground.

“Ro, baby, are you okay? Who were you talking to?”

He drops his head to rest on my forehead. “Whatever it is, Ro, I got you. Hon, I got you.”

He’s quiet for a second, and I wait for him to find his words. It always takes him a little bit longer than normal.

“Knox, sweetheart, I fucked up and fucked up really bad.”

Three days later

Avery

The colonial house with a pitched roof, decorative matching windows on each side of the front porch, and two chimneys flanking my new home are all features seen from the road, creating a grand slice of heaven for me as I pull into the driveway. I can finally call it mine.

When you know, you know. I didn’t know what type of home I wanted when I decided to buy just a month ago. I needed stability, and I needed it in a matter of days. The second I walked into its grand foyer and saw the cascading staircase, elegant chandelier, and ornate glass windows, I felt deep in my bones that it was already mine. This would be my first home, a place I could call mine for my little sister and me.

The neighborhood feels as quaint and homey as the colonial I’m unable to tear my gaze from. It’s not like any other house in the neighborhood. I finally pull my stare from the house in order to park in the small detached garage that is set to the side in the back. I have plans to build memories here for us both. After the past couple of years, my sister deserves it.

Pushing up and out of my Corvette in my pencil skirt and three-inch Jimmy Choos, I’m halfway still in the car, attempting to grab not only the grocery bags but also my purse, the files from closing, and my phone. I could make more trips, and I should, but in my jumbled mind, emotional in my ability to provide a home—one my sister and I can build memories together—I’ve concocted this vision of what walking over the threshold to my house for the first time will look like. And somehow, it doesn’t include two trips back out to the garage.

“Excuse me, miss.” Before I’m able to swing my body around to the unfamiliar voice—not to mention him sneaking up and scaring the hell out of me—I slip on my heel and drop the bag housing my red wine.

“Ah,