The Bachelor Next Door

The teasing glint in Rafe’s eyes kept Cass from making a fool of herself. She forced a smile to her lips and took a deep cleansing breath. Her pulse rate still hammered annoyingly high, making her feel like a schoolgirl. “I’m serious, Mr. Santini.”

“Call me Rafe.”

His eyes were truly remarkable. So light and clear in that dark, teasing face. She wondered if he was ever serious. But then she remembered his concern for Andy earlier this morning. Lurking beneath that carefree exterior was a man she could like, and that scared her.

“Okay...Rafe.” His name felt strange on her tongue. If he’d been more like Tony, her brother-in-law, or the slightly balding Marcus, who lived down the street, it would have been so simple. She could have pretended he was a buddy.

But he wasn’t. He was a dark-skinned Italian dream man with all the confidence in the world. Cass felt out of her depth with Rafe Santini. She swallowed hard. “I was more or less welcoming you to the neighborhood and offering to return the favor if you ever got locked in your bathroom.”

He raised one eyebrow, clearly questioning her suggestion of repayment. His mouth quirked in a half grin that made her pulse race. “Won’t Mr. Gambrel have something to say about that?”

Carl would have befriended any person who’d rescued her from the bathroom. He’d never been one of those jealous types. Steady, levelheaded and able to find the calm in chaos, her deceased husband had been an anchor. She still missed him, but at least she could say the words now without her throat closing up. “My husband is dead.”

Rafe cursed under his breath.

The word was harsh and not one Cass had ever heard used by one of her peers. No man of her acquaintance used vulgarities. He reached out to her. One finger brushed against her arm, the texture of his work-roughened hands at odds with the gentleness in his tone.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” And it was. She’d come to terms with the loss of her husband a long time ago. Carl had been part of another life almost. But of course, he’d left her Andy. A constant and steady reminder of what they’d once shared.

There was something in Rafe’s silver-gray eyes that mirrored the pain that she’d felt at Carl’s loss—a pain that she’d recovered from. Somehow she thought that Rafe hadn’t.

Who had he lost? She wanted to probe into his past and find out everything she could, but knew it would be an intrusion, to say nothing of unwise. Still, the sadness seemed at odds with what she’d observed about her new neighbor, and she couldn’t help wondering about its source.

Cass knew little of Rafe’s personal life. He’d moved into the neighborhood two weeks ago and she’d seen him only briefly when he’d been out jogging or playing with his dog. Maybe it was better that way—having never met him, she’d felt safe fantasizing about him. Talking about him to Eve...

She should leave well enough alone, her common sense told her. But that sad, haunted look that had played briefly over his face wouldn’t let her.

“I was hoping for an offer to clean the windows or the bathrooms,” he said, a wicked grin on his face.

“No way,” she retorted, fighting the urge to smile at him. He was a charming rascal, this Mr. Santini. “Call me if you’re ever trapped in the bathroom or any other room in the house.”

He balanced his coffee cup on his knee. His other hand rested absently on his chest, and for some reason Cass’s eyes stared helplessly at it.

“Don’t you have to go to work?” she asked abruptly, wondering why his lack of a shirt bothered her. Every other man on the street went without one in the summer. But it wasn’t the same. She’d been raised that any decent person would never leave their house less than fully clothed, and finally she understood why.

He raised one eyebrow in a sardonic way. “I’m on vacation.”

“Oh, got any plans?” she asked, hoping that he’d be leaving for Key West, Hawaii or Africa. Anywhere so that she would have time to adjust to being so attracted to him. Some part that had been dormant for a long time felt a tingle of life again. Why had she come over here this morning?

“Yes,” he confirmed. “I’m making this house livable.”

“Really? By yourself?” It had taken a crew of twenty men to finish the work on her house.

“My crew will be coming out at the end of the week to do the major overhaul. I’m going to finish the inside myself.”

“You own a construction company, right?” Emily, her backyard neighbor, had told her all about Rafe Santini’s business interests as soon as she’d found out he was moving into their neighborhood.

“RGS Construction and Development,” he said with a touch of pride. His gaze slanted down over her. “Do you work?”

“Yes, I’m a mother, but I also run an antiques service from my home.”

“What type of service?”

“I refinish antiques and help locate pieces that my clients need to complete a room.”

“Sounds interesting. I’ll keep you in mind when I start on the interior.”

She glanced at his overgrown lawn, uncomfortable talking business with a neighbor. A change of subject was needed. “What’s RGS stand for?”

“Raphael G. Santini.” He took another sip of coffee. The dog stirred, then bounded off the porch to chase after a squirrel. Watching the dog in motion was a delight. She moved with the skill and cunning of a hunter. Cass suspected that Rafe would also move like a warrior.

Raphael, she thought, what a beautiful name. His mother must be a very romantic person to have come up with that. “What’s the G stand for?”

“My middle name.” He spoke in a sardonic way that made Cass think he saw life as one big joke.

“Very funny, Santini. Come on, confess. It can’t be that bad.” She walked closer, pinning him with her own version of the mother’s stare. The one that always forced Andy to tell the truth.

“No way.” He didn’t sink back in the chair. The look on his face told her that he’d rather be tortured than admit his middle name. Interesting.

“I’m not intimidating you at all, am I?” she asked. Cass enjoyed Rafe’s company as she hadn’t enjoyed a man’s in a long time.

“Nope.” He smiled and sipped his coffee.

“Can I guess?” she asked.

“It’s a free country.”

“Is it George?”

He shook his head.

“Gary?”

Another negative response.

“Gregory?”

“Give it up, Ms. Gambrel. No one would guess the name in a million years.”

“Call me Cass,” she said without thinking.

He wasn’t going to tell her, and she was honest enough to admit she didn’t need to know. Cass then realized that she was hanging around his porch like some love-starved widow. She straightened away from the railing and prepared to leave. “See you around, Rafe.”

“Thanks for the coffee, Cass.”

A cheerful whistle followed her home, and Cass forbade herself to think of Rafe as anything but a neighbor. Well, possibly someone who could help her teach Andy discipline. But that was all.