Conflicted on 5th: A 5th Avenue Romance Novel, Book One (5th Avenue Romance Series 1) Read online

  “I’m afraid I’ve made my plight more difficult by trying to do this at the busiest time of the year for home sales, but I’m on a mission to get settled before school starts for my son.”

  Sylvia peered at me over her dark rimmed glasses. “As is everyone else, Ian. May and June are our highest selling months, and inventory is tough right now, but I do have a builder-ready available in the Fifth Avenue District, a quaint North Dallas community. The home’s quite a bit larger than you’d expressed interest in, but a unique piece of property with a pool and plenty of room for a large dog. Let’s go take a look at it.”

  She provided history of the area on the drive over. An older subdivision once filled with dated homes and decaying properties, had been acquired from builders looking to flatten the existing structure and design newer, more modern homes in their place, while maintaining mature trees. There were no cookie-cutter houses on the cul-de-sac, and my initial take was appealing. There was even a playground across the street.

  She parked the car in front of a new, Tudor-styled home that had recently come on the market when the woman building it took a promotion to Nashville and backed out of the deal.

  I stepped out of the car and shut the door. Saying I was immediately captivated was an understatement.

  The petite blonde, standing on the sidewalk in front of the house, had the bluest eyes, visible from the twenty feet of distance between us. Her smile was warm, and she continued her conversation with the woman standing next to her, completely oblivious to me. Her giggle was the sweetest song in my ears.

  With generous curves, I pondered the thought of holding them close to me. How sweet would her breath be on my lips? How tight would her body fit mine? Would she be playful in bed? Could she blissfully scream out her pleasure? Would she entertain new ideas?

  My mind went wild with lustful scenarios.

  To see a woman’s eyes sparkle with glitter and expressing uncontrolled laughter, and the fact I even cared, was a shock to me. Something about her spirit opened a window to my soul I thought had been bolted and soldered shut. The newness was completely rejuvenating, and the natural way it came to me was totally refreshing. For a split second, fascinating thoughts peppered me. I lowered my briefcase to cover the increasing arousal soon to be obvious to the world.

  “Dr. Briggs, is there something wrong?” Sylvia asked.

  “No, it’s perfect.”

  “But you haven’t toured the inside.”

  Touring “her” insides would become my mission all right, but I wasn’t referring to the property.

  Sylvia stood at the front door, waiting until I joined her.

  “Do you know those ladies who were outside chatting?”

  “I wasn’t paying attention,” she uttered and walked outside to look at the ladies before returning to me. “They live in the immediate area, I believe. I’ve seen them several times out with their children, but I’ve not met them.”

  “Hmm, children. Good to know.”

  I was hoping for single and uncomplicated; the married ones were not my type.

  Chapter 2

  The garage was finally going to be open for parking as I picked up the last box to unpack in Oliver’s bedroom and Rip, our seventy-five pound black Labrador, chased my heels into the new house. We’d been in the house for less than twenty-four hours, and my back was telling me moving was for young people. Thank God for relocation companies; otherwise, I might’ve been in need of services from one of my colleagues who specialized in overly mistreated lower backs.

  The box marked “Books” slipped from my hands just in time to spill onto Oliver’s bed, so I proceeded to stack them in some sort of order, while Rip ran up and down the stairs in mayhem.

  “Which shelf do you want these on?”

  Oliver tossed his football up in the air. “Right there,” he pointed to the middle shelf.

  “Dad, can I go play on the playground?” His brown eyes were bright and the pleading look on his face was hard to dismiss. He’d been cooped up too long already.

  “Let me unpack your last box, and I’ll go with you.”

  He pouted. “It’s getting dark, and the kids will be gone.” The need to blend and be social filled his eyes. It was important for him to make new friends. Desire to mingle and meet encouraged me, especially given that it was happening so quickly. The box of books could wait, and I put it on the floor for a task at another date.

  His dark curls were in much need of a trim, I noticed, as I tousled them. “Let’s go.”

  On the way out, Oliver kept his football close to his chest like he often did when he was lonely back home. A sign to me the past was still haunting him, but I hoped not forever. He often played by himself in our yard at home in Cali, afraid to talk to any children in the neighborhood after he was bullied and beaten by two of the neighborhood boys at school. As I watched him toss the ball in the air thousands of times, I struggled to find the right words to convince him it would be okay—not all children were bullies. Rather than expand his reach to others, he’d clung to me as if I were his only friend—his only existence to life.

  We crossed the street to the park just as a woman and a little boy passed us going the opposite direction. I was drawn to her and quickly realized it was the same woman whose laughter had caught my attention that first day. Because she was leaning over speaking to the boy as they walked, she didn’t notice us, and I didn’t interrupt them, although I wished I had.

  Watching them, I waited until they entered a home just two doors up from my own.

  Hmm, neighbors.

  Oliver and I tossed the ball once before a man and two children approached the play area. The boy and girl came over to greet my son, and the three of them went over to the slide to play, while the man joined me on the bench. It was nice to be able to stay in the shade and still be close to the kids to keep watch.

  “How’s the move coming along? I’m Jorge by the way,” he extended his hand to me.

  “Pleasure, Jorge. I’m Ian, and that’s my son, Oliver. Unpacking’s almost over.”

  “Killer, isn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  He pointed toward the children. “My niece and nephew, Ella and Ely. My sister-in-law is out shopping with the wife, but I don’t mind sitter duty.”

  We talked for a while, and I found him both friendly and quite the humorist. The kids were playing very well together, and they kept showing us bugs they were collecting—even the little girl was tagging right along with the arachnid department.

  God, every time I move a muscle my back hurts that much more. Where’re the drugs?

  “We need to get home soon, Oliver.”

  “Okay. I’m having fun, Dad.”

  What a wonderful surprise to hear him so excited.

  “Dude, you left California and its beautiful women and weather for Texas? You must not be right in the head.” Jorge laughed.

  A chuckle escaped my mouth at his flippancy. “The weather and surfing are about the only things that kept me there for as long as I stayed. The women part is over-rated. Oliver and I both needed a fresh start.”

  “I hear ya. We moved her a few years ago and it’s been great.”

  Oliver approached my side. “Dad, can we play five more minutes?” His dubious smiles and laughter were hard to resist.

  “Sure.”

  Jorge shared with me that several of the neighbors had children about Oliver’s age. Although he had no children of his own, Jorge seemed very comfortable with kids, and the twins appeared crazy about him too.

  “Shawna and I were happy to see a family moving into that house. We never understood why an older, single woman was building such a large house for herself, and we worried it would become a revolving door of homeowners.”

  “It’s larger than what I had on my wish list, but the neighborhood and this playground were hard to walk away from.”

  “For sure. Well, welcome to the Fifth Avenue circle. There’re a lot of nice people here. I shoul
d be going, and I suppose these kids need cleaned up of their bug juice before I get an earful from their mother. Would love to have you over for a barbecue sometime soon. I’ll talk to the wife, and we’ll get something planned.”

  “Appreciate the welcome, man. I know we’ll be happy here.”

  The next morning, I opened the front door to fetch the Sunday morning newspaper. Rip was in a hurry to explore his new domain, and he rushed past me, took a split second to water a bush, and kept trucking. Even though I called his name repeatedly, he continued on his mission directly across two lawns and right up to a woman gathering her own newspaper.

  The same unnamed blonde beauty.

  “Good morning.” I waved. “I’m sorry. He’s just excited to meet everyone.”

  “It’s okay.” She dipped her head in shyness.

  Meeting her had been on my immediate agenda, so I took the opportunity to make it happen by walking down the sidewalk toward her.

  She quickly rubbed Rip’s head and darted back through her front door.

  Epic fail. I suppose I could call it being dissed.

  “Dad, what’s for breakfast?” Oliver asked from the front door, while watching me scramble with Rip.

  “We have to make a trip to the store and stock up on everything, so we’ll stop somewhere to eat first.”

  It took forever to purchase everything a kitchen needs, and after a brutal shopping experience, I accompanied Oliver to the playground. Unfortunately, no other children were out, and after tossing the ball around with me for a few minutes, he quickly grew bored, so we returned home for a swim.

  While Oliver played, I researched a database for property owners in my area. According to the addresses listed, my new blonde neighbor was Chelsie Peterson, and the listing of her husband Carson Peterson made me snarl.

  Damn.

  Several weeks later, Jorge and I were sitting on my back porch drinking some beers, while I watched Oliver practice his newly learned dive. It looked more like a modified belly-flop to me, but I gave him kudos for trying and kept tossing in coins for him to retrieve.

  “How ’bout you and Olly come over for barbecue tomorrow night? I’m making my famous recipe. Shawna is on her way back from a work trip, and we’ve got several of the neighbors coming. You need to meet them. They all think you’re a recluse, dude.” He tossed his empty bottle in the trashcan behind me.

  “Work’s been busy, man. I’d love to come, but Oliver’s grandparents are coming into town later tonight. Best I can do is run over, grab a beer, and say hello.”

  “Everyone’s been asking about you.”

  “Who’s everyone?” I so hoped it was the cutie two houses north.

  “My wife for one. The Connors’ next door to you and the Klines’ at the end of the cul-de-sac are all ‘Dr. Briggs’ curious.”

  “Any single women?”

  “One. Chelsie Peterson. She has a boy, Ty.”

  Now, he had my attention. My dick stirred in my shorts at the mention of her name. So, she was single after all.

  Playing dumb was always a prelude to gathering information. “You’re the only one I know, so you gotta give me an intro man,” I laughed half-heartedly, as I swept the side of the pool with the scrubber brush.

  He handed me another beer from the fridge outside. “You’re on your own there, man. I fixed her up once, and it went sorely wrong. She brushed me off for weeks after that, not to mention making threats of bodily injury to a certain part of me. She’s an awesome gal and best friends with my wife. When Shawna is home, they’re always together. But I swore I’d never fix her up again.”

  “Understood. I’ve always kept my dating life away from Oliver. Didn’t think he needed to see me parade women in and out of our home, but lately I’ve come to realize he needs more than what I’ve given him.”

  Jorge snickered. “Nothing like the love and wrath of a woman.”

  I choked on my beer. “No doubt. How is it being married to a pilot?”

  He looked at me over his sunglasses. “Awesome fringe benefits.”

  “I bet.” My smirk was hard to hide.

  Hmm, mile high club for sure.

  The next evening, I kept watching out the kitchen window to see if I could get a peek of Chelsie going over to Jorge’s. I couldn’t stand it any longer, and while Oliver was out running errands with his grandparents, I bolted over to say hello.

  There were over twenty people hanging out around the pool with food and drinks, but no Chelsie.

  Fucking hell.

  Performing the courteous, meet and greet was necessary, but the only person I wanted to encounter was her, and she was nowhere in sight. The last damn thing I wanted to do was to inquire about her whereabouts.

  “Are you learning your way around?” Shawna asked, handing me a plate of Jorge’s supposedly-famous barbecue.

  “Meh, limited route. Trying to stay off the highways. I need a personal tour guide, someone willing to show me around to the hideaway fun spots.” I secretly hoped she would offer the services of her single friend.

  “Jorge said you’re a single dad. If you ever need help with your son, please let us know. We don’t have any of our own yet, but we’re great at borrowing others.” She laughed. She was not the owner of the sweet giggle I’d heard the first time I saw her with Chelsie. I longed to meet her best friend.

  “Much appreciated. I’ve got a nanny service when I’m on call, but one never knows when an urgent issue is going to arise.”

  The visit lasted longer than I’d intended, but I stayed until Oliver and his grandparents returned. To my dismay, there was no sign of Chelsie.

  Chapter 3

  Chelsie

  Rush, rush, rush.

  Traffic was insane and the stores were crowded with grumpy people.

  The holidays, in my honest opinion, made people crazy.

  Mine just left me lonely if my son wasn’t with me. There was no one else to share my heart with.

  School ended early since it was their last day and the holiday party, and Ty accompanied me to the store in an attempt to beat the five o’clock rush, only to find limited items on my grocery list available and a gazillion people fighting in the aisles for last minute necessities. It was the last weekend before Christmas, after all. Finally, I gave up and made a mental note to modify my menu for the next few days. Stopping at a dozen stores wasn’t on my agenda.

  “Hey, Chelsie, Ty,” I heard from behind me.

  “Hi, Ms. Voight,” Ty answered.

  Turning, I noticed Ty’s first grade teacher rounding the corner by the produce. “Hi, Karen,” I offered.

  “Those little chocolate mice you made were adorable, and the kids went nuts over them. You are so creative.”

  She was referring to the Hershey Kisses decorated to look like a little mouse I’d sent to the school party. “I can’t take credit for those. I ran across them on Pinterest, my quiet time addiction.”

  She re-clipped her long dark hair at the back of her head and pulled a list from her purse. For a young woman, she looked tired. “I’ve heard others talk about that site. I will have to look it up.”

  “Well, settle in for the holiday break and enjoy it. When I get on it, I’m consumed and hours pass before I know it.”

  Ty tugged on the sleeve of my holiday sweater. “Mom, can we go? I’m hungry.”

  My glare would’ve knocked over a Dallas Cowboy lineman. He knew he was being rude.

  “Merry Christmas to you both, I will see you Sunday at church.” She pushed her empty cart toward the back of the store.

  Suddenly, a feeling of sadness passed from her to me. She always kept her private life to herself. Not having seen her wear a ring, I wondered if she was alone at the holiday. I’d never heard her mention a family or anything. Holiday loneliness never entered my mind until the year I got my divorce.

  I tilted my head as I leaned down to whisper in Ty’s ear, “We need to work on your manners, young man. You know you were rude.”

&nb
sp; He looked up at me with his big blue eyes. “But I’m hungry.” He was beginning to pout.

  “We don’t put our needs before someone else. And we don’t forget how to be polite. Now, how ’bout we just settle in and order pizza?” I said, plucking the last bag of chocolate chips from the display.

  “Momma, its Christmas. You have to make cookies,” Ty pleaded, while standing beside the grocery cart.

  “Cookies are treats, not a dinner of healthy substance. No take on pizza?” I brushed the tip of his nose with my finger.

  “Is pizza good substance?” His blue eyes sparkled as he questioned me.

  He had me there.

  “It’s more substance than cookies, but you got one up on me. Fine, we’ll have ham and cheese paninis. You like those.”

  The roll of Ty’s shoulders suggested some form of defeat. He was never a picky eater, but when he wanted something, he could be relentless. I didn’t know if becoming argumentative was just part of growing up or the result of not having a man around one hundred percent of the time, but he’d become more difficult since his dad and I had divorced.

  With the car loaded, I battled traffic for another forty-five minutes to go five miles, before finally pulling into the garage at home. Ty hopped out of the car and barreled into the house to hit the video games, leaving the door wide open.

  “You can play for thirty minutes, young man,” I yelled after him.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He huffed, and even from a distance, I heard him.

  With the last of the grocery sacks in hand, I closed the garage door and made my way to the kitchen to start dinner.

  A palm-to-forehead moment…wine.

  I’d forgot the freakin’ wine. I shook my head in utter disbelief. Geez! It was my weekend to host Bunco, and a murder was going to happen without plenty of wine on deck. As much as I didn’t want to go back to the store, I knew I would have to sometime in the next twenty-four hours before my Bunco Sisters came crashing in my house ready to drown themselves in berry bliss.