My step-dad insisted that if I stayed with him and mom for the summer that I had to get a job, but I knew it was my last chance… my absolutely last chance to have a free-from-responsibilities summer before I finished my bachelor’s degree and went to medical school. As a compromise, my parents agreed to let me take a summer class or two at a regional campus of the university I attended and, not incidentally, stay with my dad for the summer. He, at least, didn’t mind my pursuit of hedonism all summer.
Of course at the beginning of the summer my definition of ‘hedonism’ was pretty tame. I intended to stay up late watching Science Fiction movies or reading Stephen King novels, sleep until noon, eat waffles for lunch, swim all afternoon in our backyard pool, eat fast-food for dinner, take an evening class or two, and do it all over again the next day. I know, I know, I am a real rebel.
I arrived at dad’s late on Saturday afternoon and pulled my Mustang convertible into the driveway next to dad’s Triumph TR6. My black hair was a mess from the wind tugging it out of my ponytail so I took a minute to try to tidy myself before getting out of my car and going to my dad. I found him talking to the neighbor over the low shrubs that marked the border between their properties. I popped the trunk to get my duffle bag, but my dad called me over to him.
“Hey, kiddo. How was the drive?” my dad asked.
“The best kind: uneventful,” I said, grinning. “I may have barely avoided some speeding tickets. You know I can’t resist driving fast with the wind in my hair!” I laughed, running my hand through my dark hair again trying to smooth it down.
“You get a ticket, you pay for it!” he said, his hands on my shoulders. I smiled into his eyes, the same intense pale blue as my own, before he pulled me into a big bear hug.
“I know, I know.” I said, hugging him back just as fiercely.
“I want you to meet our new neighbor,” dad said, turning my attention to the man he’d been talking to.
I couldn’t hide a gulp at my first close-up view of the man who stood behind a push-mower. He had to be at least 6’4″ and was built like an olympic swimmer: long arms, big hands, powerful chest tapering into narrow hips. His light brown hair was thick and curly, plastered against his neck by sweat. He smiled at me and I blushed.
“Scott, this is my daughter Eileen,” my dad introduced him. “Eileen, this is Scott Rivers, our new neighbor.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Eileen,” Scott said, his voice a deep baritone, before he wiped his right palm on his shorts and held his hand out for me to shake. Our hands touched and I felt lightning fly up my shoulder in response. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m sure you know your dad likes to brag.”
“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” I said, grinning and blushing like a schoolgirl. “Dad does like to talk about me. Please assume everything he said was an exaggeration.”
I blushed even more when he pulled up the front of his t-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, revealing a stomach rippling with muscles and a narrow strip of brown hair disappearing into the waistband of his shorts. His dark blue eyes danced with mischief when he noticed me noticing.