Read Online Something About You (Just Me & You) by Lelaina Landis - Free Book Online
Authors: Lelaina Landis
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that he had little contact with the weekend throngs
that flocked to their favorite hipster havens. The rambling two-story house, with
its high ceilings, scuffed wooden floors and a ceiling fan in practically every
room, had a well-lived-in feel. It was a bitch to heat on cold days, and the
plumbing was temperamental — features that Gage, having grown up in a
house much like this one, found familiar and even oddly endearing. In the dark
hours of early morning when he shaved, the smell of homemade tortillas wafted
through the window from the string of Mexican cafés on the next street.
And none of the neighbors complained when he worked in the
garage all night long.
Moving into the large River Run house had been like slipping
his feet into an old pair of shoes. Comfortable. Easy.
And now it was completely out of his price range, given that
his personal finances had taken an unexpected hit during the past two years.
The “For Rent” sign staked in the corner of the lawn reminded him that he had
less than a month to find another place to live. Gage told himself that he
wouldn’t have to count his pennies forever; the crisis would pass. In
the meantime, he’d have to resort to cheaper digs.
“Hey, Gage!” a woman’s voice called, interrupting his
reverie.
Speaking of easy …
He paused with the key still in the lock. His next-door
neighbor, Ronnie, traversed the distance between them in an unhurried saunter.
She wore a torn sweatshirt and shorts that revealed an impressive expanse of
brown shoulder and leg. Her pale blond tresses were pulled up in a
tousled-looking updo he suspected she’d painstakingly styled to look as though
she had done it on the fly. The color of her skin and hair was all too typical
of Austin women and reminded him of the Palomino horses he saw in pastures
outside the city limits.
“Back atcha, Ronnie.” He gave her the same friendly smile
that he would any of his female coworkers at KCAP.
Only Ronnie had tacitly made it clear since the day he moved
in that she wanted more than sugar-borrowing privileges. She’d invited him over
for lemonade on the porch. Mike’s Hard Lemonade. No doubt she was a long, cool
drink of it too — with a cherry at the bottom. The perfume she wore
smelled sweet and fruity.
A few years ago, Gage would have gladly lived up to Fitz’s
on-air reputation. He would have drunk with Ronnie all night, bedded her at
dawn then let the cards fall as they may. But if the school of hard knocks had
taught him one lesson, it was that the path of least resistance slid into a
quagmire of complications and misgivings. Women like Ronnie — women with
whom he couldn’t recall the details of a single conversation — were always
the first step in the wrong direction.
“This morning’s show was awesome.” She smiled and braced her
palms on the top of the fence railing that separated their properties. “The
other girls at the salon thought it was hilarious, too.”
“I do aim to please.” Gage noticed that she’d thrust her
breasts forward in a gesture that was meant to appear unobtrusive.
“Sounds like you had a good time at your friend’s wedding,”
Ronnie drawled with a hint of coy. “Although I can’t believe that the maid of
honor turned you down.”
“I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.” Gage kept his
tone light.
One thing that he’d noticed about Texas women was that they
communicated sexual interest almost exclusively through body language and
innuendo. Now Ronnie was shifting her weight from one long leg to another,
subtle movements that connoted a certain expectation. The lemonade stand was
still open for business.
His business.
“I suppose there’s always hope for the next wedding, huh?”
Ronnie asked.
“From your lips to god’s ears.” Gage crossed his fingers and
broadened his smile. He knew why his show was so popular with his own gender.
He had designed it that way. He had carefully devised the Fitz persona to
appeal
that flocked to their favorite hipster havens. The rambling two-story house, with
its high ceilings, scuffed wooden floors and a ceiling fan in practically every
room, had a well-lived-in feel. It was a bitch to heat on cold days, and the
plumbing was temperamental — features that Gage, having grown up in a
house much like this one, found familiar and even oddly endearing. In the dark
hours of early morning when he shaved, the smell of homemade tortillas wafted
through the window from the string of Mexican cafés on the next street.
And none of the neighbors complained when he worked in the
garage all night long.
Moving into the large River Run house had been like slipping
his feet into an old pair of shoes. Comfortable. Easy.
And now it was completely out of his price range, given that
his personal finances had taken an unexpected hit during the past two years.
The “For Rent” sign staked in the corner of the lawn reminded him that he had
less than a month to find another place to live. Gage told himself that he
wouldn’t have to count his pennies forever; the crisis would pass. In
the meantime, he’d have to resort to cheaper digs.
“Hey, Gage!” a woman’s voice called, interrupting his
reverie.
Speaking of easy …
He paused with the key still in the lock. His next-door
neighbor, Ronnie, traversed the distance between them in an unhurried saunter.
She wore a torn sweatshirt and shorts that revealed an impressive expanse of
brown shoulder and leg. Her pale blond tresses were pulled up in a
tousled-looking updo he suspected she’d painstakingly styled to look as though
she had done it on the fly. The color of her skin and hair was all too typical
of Austin women and reminded him of the Palomino horses he saw in pastures
outside the city limits.
“Back atcha, Ronnie.” He gave her the same friendly smile
that he would any of his female coworkers at KCAP.
Only Ronnie had tacitly made it clear since the day he moved
in that she wanted more than sugar-borrowing privileges. She’d invited him over
for lemonade on the porch. Mike’s Hard Lemonade. No doubt she was a long, cool
drink of it too — with a cherry at the bottom. The perfume she wore
smelled sweet and fruity.
A few years ago, Gage would have gladly lived up to Fitz’s
on-air reputation. He would have drunk with Ronnie all night, bedded her at
dawn then let the cards fall as they may. But if the school of hard knocks had
taught him one lesson, it was that the path of least resistance slid into a
quagmire of complications and misgivings. Women like Ronnie — women with
whom he couldn’t recall the details of a single conversation — were always
the first step in the wrong direction.
“This morning’s show was awesome.” She smiled and braced her
palms on the top of the fence railing that separated their properties. “The
other girls at the salon thought it was hilarious, too.”
“I do aim to please.” Gage noticed that she’d thrust her
breasts forward in a gesture that was meant to appear unobtrusive.
“Sounds like you had a good time at your friend’s wedding,”
Ronnie drawled with a hint of coy. “Although I can’t believe that the maid of
honor turned you down.”
“I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.” Gage kept his
tone light.
One thing that he’d noticed about Texas women was that they
communicated sexual interest almost exclusively through body language and
innuendo. Now Ronnie was shifting her weight from one long leg to another,
subtle movements that connoted a certain expectation. The lemonade stand was
still open for business.
His business.
“I suppose there’s always hope for the next wedding, huh?”
Ronnie asked.
“From your lips to god’s ears.” Gage crossed his fingers and
broadened his smile. He knew why his show was so popular with his own gender.
He had designed it that way. He had carefully devised the Fitz persona to
appeal
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