Girl Next Door
Puck Buddies Series
Tara Brown
Girl Next Door
Book Four in the Puck Buddies Series
Part One of the final books in the series!
As the cast and crew of the Puck Buddies series is so extensive, I’ve had to cut the final story for these guys into two parts to ensure all the happy endings.
Copyright 2020 Tara Brown
This is a work of fiction.
All names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text Copyright © 2020 Tara Brown
This work is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This work may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written consent of the publisher.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. No alteration of content is permitted.
Published by Tara Brown.
Printed in the United States of America
Cover Art by Dark Tree Designs
Edited by Andrea Burns
All rights reserved.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
The End
ALSO BY
About the Author
1 Ghosted
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
Jenny
The key ring jingles as I reach over the top of the fence with one hand and struggle with the gate latch while balancing two to-go cups of steaming coffee in the other. My boyfriend’s extra hot latte burns my wet fingers through the damp sleeve over the paper cup. But the smell of java mixing with the early summer rain hints the miserable experience will be worth it as soon as I’m inside and out of this sudden downpour.
“Oh come on,” I grumble at the bolt when my wet fingers slip trying to grab hold. I just get it, balancing and lifting the old gate with my boot to level the weight, but the leather slips on the drenched wood. The gate drops back down, pinching my finger in the rusty bolt.
“Ow!” I shout and pull my hand away, sending the key ring tumbling to the ground where it lands in the huge puddle on the other side of the fence.
Taking deep breaths, I whisper, “Shit,” staring up at the cloudy sky and fighting my temper. I close my eyes as the rain tickles my face, certain this moment can’t get worse.
Giving up on being careful, I spring into action. “You son of a—” I adjust the weekend bag on my shoulder and reach over again, roughly jerking back the latch, swinging the gate open wide, and hitting it on the fence, hard.
When I step over the deep puddle containing my key, I kick the stupid gate closed. It slams, vibrating from the impact.
With a slight sense of vindication, I blow some of the running rainwater off my face and squat with the coffees sloshing on my soaking wet clothes. It’s a dark moment spent balancing and promising myself a quick shower and change before leaving for work after this. At least I’ve left enough of my work clothes at Ben’s house that finding a suitable outfit won’t be difficult.
His showerhead is better than mine; the water pressure is amazing. I’m daydreaming about it with my fingers deep in the dirty puddle, my manicure scraping along the cold mud, when I hear it.
A door and then a voice. A woman’s voice.
“I swear I heard something, Ben, but I don’t see anything,” the woman speaks from the back door of Ben’s house.
My blood runs as cold as the puddle I’m fishing in. I turn, certain I’m hearing things, but the barbecue and stairwell I’m crouched behind block my view of the back door.
The sky responds violently and the rain comes down harder.
“You sure?” Ben calls out over the pounding drops.
“It was a loud bang. I heard it, twice!” The voice is familiar.
“As, it was probably a car hitting a pothole.” His voice is closer.
As? He said, “As” like it was a name. The voice—oh my God.
It’s Aslin, his coworker. Why would she be at his house at eleven in the morning on his day off?
“The roads here are brutal in the spring. Come back to bed, babe.” Ben chuckles that sexy, throaty laugh.
Bed?
Babe?
“Okay.” She giggles and I lose my grip on the coffees, spilling and sending them toppling into the puddle. They burst, adding brown liquid and an unsettling warmth to the water.
My whole body shivers with pins and needles.
Aslin is at Ben’s.
He told her to come back to bed.
He called her babe—he calls me that.
Stupid Jenny.
He probably calls everyone babe.
Actual comprehension of the situation hits but it isn’t gentle. It smacks me so hard I fall back, landing on my butt in the wet mud of his side yard.
Ben calls us all the same nickname like that fucking Reese Witherspoon movie so he doesn’t mix us up.
Shit!
Shit!
My stomach drops and my heart breaks. Tears stream my face, joining the rain but my tears are warmer.
As it always does, my traitorous mind tries to rationalize this. Somehow, I end up adding justifications like my surprise visit to his house was stupid when I should still be in Halifax. I’m stupid. This is somehow my fault. Were we officially exclusive? Did we decide that? I mean, it was implied but was it ever said aloud? Were my expectations grander than reality?
My relationship is a lie. A joke. I’m a joke.
Pathetically, I sit in misery for a whole minute, rain and tears pouring down my face. I’m drenched and smelling of dirt, coffee, and heartbreak. Does heartbreak have a smell?
Of course, this is the moment I recall the looks between him and Aslin at his Christmas party.
Clearly, those hadn’t been my imagination. Nor
