The Boys Next Door (Excerpt)

Chapter 3

At 8:30 that evening, the last guest left the house next door, staggering down the front walk and shouting some joke over his shoulder.

Diana had been pacing her own empty house for the past half-hour, listening to soothing music that was doing nothing to calm her down, and arguing with herself about whether to take Brendan's invitation.

He'd just asked her over because he felt sorry for her. He'd probably forgotten all about it. And—

Fuck it. She twisted the radio dial to the rock station, cranked up the volume, and swung open the door to her parents' liquor cabinet for a shot of liquid courage.

Rum? Gin? Frangelico? She had no idea which one to choose. She'd never tried more than a sip of wine.

But time was ticking, so she did her best to toss back a shot of vodka, spent most of the next minute bent over coughing, then went upstairs to put on her swimsuit, a sundress over it, and enough makeup to look like she'd tried a little but not a lot.

As Diana walked up the path to the house next door and knocked, tingling warmth spread through her arms and legs. She was starting to feel more relaxed.

The door opened. She caught the cleft in Brendan's chin, relieved that the right twin had answered the door.

Then she sucked in her breath as he bent to kiss her cheek. He was still just wearing his swim trunks, and she realized too late that she was staring at his rippling muscles.

"You came." He smiled, walking her into the kitchen with a hand on her back.

Her heartbeat accelerated. Oh yes, she had, just a few hours ago. Suddenly she wondered if Brendan could smell her pussy on her fingers, and instead of being terrified, her stomach curled with arousal. A little part of her hoped he could. He was standing much closer than he needed to.

"I was about to go over there and get you myself. Beer?"

Party leftovers littered the long kitchen. Diana blinked at the bags of chips spilling out, the bottles everywhere, the open jars of salsa, the melting ice. 

"I— sure. I've never tried it."

He opened a bottle from the cooler, handed it to her with a smile, and guided her through the house to the backyard.

There was no way he could know what his hand at the small of her back was doing to her. She tried to breathe normally as his thumb stroked her through her light dress, right above the waistband of her swimsuit bottoms.

At least that stupid shot of vodka was helping. Her legs weren't shaking now, even though her crotch was already damp again.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said softly. Was that a joke? She couldn't be farther from comfortable right now. "Feel free to swim. I'm going to do some cleanup, but I'll be down soon."

What? Diana stared at his back as he walked away, outlined against the setting sun.

This was what she'd been afraid of. Maybe she hadn't passed the fun test. Should she have kissed Brendan when he met her at the door? She had no idea what the hell to do.

At least he'd stranded her in an empty backyard, with only the chirping crickets and the darkening sky for company, instead of the middle of a big party.

Sighing, she sipped the bitter bubbly drink in her hand, just to have something to do. But as the bottle got lighter in her hand, she began to relax again, leaning back in the chaise longue.

Years had passed since she'd set foot in this backyard, but she still knew it so well. There was the long pool in the middle where she'd tried to hold her own in water fights with the twins, the lights strung up over the patio that had held birthday parties, the darkness at the back of the yard where clumps of trees made tall shapes against the deepening night sky, and, buried in those trees, the treehouse the twins' dad had built for them ten years ago.