My Beautiful Neighbor (The Greene Family #1) - Piper Rayne Page 0,36

Some of their eyes bug out and literal drool falls from the corner of their mouths.

“Doggie style?” one man calls.

Presley looks up in disbelief, mouth dropped open. I bite my lip and my inner cheek. Hell, I’m about to rip out a section of the hair on my arm, trying not to laugh.

“You’re such a dirty old man,” a woman calls.

“You weren’t complaining the other night,” he says back.

Presley stands, and I admit I was about to throw my coat over her ass so she’s not the visual these men have tonight in bed.

“Downward dog.” A woman stands and holds up her phone. “Yoga?”

“We shouldn’t use our cell phones to find the answers, but you’re correct.” Leann puts a mark under Presley’s team on the whiteboard.

Though this isn’t what I want to be doing, seeing the smile that hasn’t left Presley’s face makes it worth it. I like her a lot better this way than when she’s angry at me.

“Greene,” she says, walking by me with a cocky gait.

I pick a piece of paper from the bowl and open it.

Sewing

“How easy is this?” I whisper to Presley.

Pulling a chair over in front of a table, I pretend to cut up fabric and press my foot down on the invisible pedal and run the fabric through a machine. I was in home economics once upon a time. I remember how it works. But everyone sits there and doesn’t say a word, so I pretend to unroll a spool of thread and run it through the machine down to the needle.

“Oh, I know this one,” a woman shouts.

“Then say it,” a man yells back at her.

“Give me a minute.” Her eyes scrunch as I rack my brain for a way to communicate it better. “Oh.” Her arm flies up.

“You’re not in school, Olive, just spit it out,” the man who I think is her husband snips. I hope I’m not a cranky old man when I’m older.

“Strip poker!” the woman yells.

I freeze. The entire room falls silent and almost everyone looks in the direction of the woman. I look at Presley and we both crack up. Now I’m really wondering if the sewing room is a cover for them playing strip poker. Do they pretend to undress in order to do measurements if a nurse comes in? God, I need to stop my mind from running away with this.

“No. I’m sorry, that’s not it,” Leann says.

Midge stands and pushes her dark-rimmed eyeglasses up her nose. “Sewing.” She smiles, knowing she got it right.

I point, and Leann puts a mark under my name. I’m not sure anyone wants to address the underground strip poker ring going on at Northern Lights Retirement.

“My turn.” Presley walks up to the bucket and plucks out a piece of paper. She purses her lips, thinking about it.

I lean against the table, watching her. I wonder if Presley knows how beautiful she is. It’s not even just that she’s a knockout in the looks department, but the fact that she’s doing charades in front of a bunch of cranky old people and she’s giving it her all. She could’ve just refused to play and dropped off the thread and fabric and patted me on the back. Then again, she didn’t have to put the thread and fabric aside for the retirement center in the first place.

Maybe she is made for small-town life after all. Because that’s what we do here, put others’ needs in front of our own.

She takes off her bandana and wraps it around her neck. Her blonde hair is pulled back into two braided pigtails. “Can I use Cade?” she asks Leann.

“Go ahead,” Leann says.

Presley comes up next to me and shows me the piece of paper. “If you get on all fours and I get on your back, I think they’ll get it.”

I raise my eyebrows. “With these dirty minds, they aren’t going to think this.” I point at the piece of paper.

She shrugs as though she doesn’t have another choice, so I push off the table and get down on my hands and knees.

“Oh, I like this,” a man in the front row says.

Presley swings one leg over my back and sits with her legs hanging off, bouncing up and down as she grabs the collar of my shirt.

“What kind of kinky stuff is your grandson into?” someone asks Grandma.

“Cade, sweetie, what are you doing?” Grandma asks next.

“Is that a sexual position I don’t know?” the man who called out doggie style asks, tipping