Free Szot, JC - The South Window (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) by JC Szot Page A

ten days, no one would have to keep looking across the street for Tess’s car.
    “Hey, neighbor.” Marty looked down at her from the top rung of the ladder.
    “Good morning.” Allie raised her hand to the sun. She must’ve had a wicked grin on her face.
    “Should I come down for this?” His lips curved into a sly smile.
    Allie nodded slowly. He stepped down the ladder, balancing a small can of primer and a brush.
    “What the hell’s going on? Looks like you just hit it big with the winning numbers.” He laughed.
    “She’s gone.” Allie waited for Marty’s reaction, wanting to eat it up like a sweet dessert.
    Marty had been lying low for awhile, avoiding Tess. Allie had seen Tess walk over to his place a few times before she left, but the heavy episodes in his workshop had stopped. Allie thought a small part of her ego was still trying to reel him back in.
    “You mean Tess?” He tilted his head toward her house.
    “That’s right.” Allie tried not to look too happy. She just needed a break.
    “What? Did she move to Readington to save on gas?” Marty laughed.
    “No, she’s off to St. Thomas with her ‘friends’ from Readington, as she put it.”
    “Mm, that sounds adventurous enough for her. So what brings you over?” He scratched a dried smear of paint on his cheek.
    “I think you should stop over tonight so we can pick the colors for your mural,” she told him.
    “Sounds good. How about seven?”
    “Great, see you then.” Allie watched him climb back up the ladder before walking back across the yard.

    * * * *

    “I think these are all great. You’re the artist.” Marty stood in front of her supply closet.
    “I’m going to start tomorrow,” Allie informed him. She snuck a glance at his face, flushed and clean shaven. “You’ve looked at the sketch, right?”
    “Sure. I love it.” Marty faced her. “You do brilliant work,” he said softly. His eyes gleamed, staring into her. “When’s Dan coming home?”
    His question hit her like a swarm of stinging bees.
    “Not until next month.” Allie closed the closet door.
    “That must be hard.”
    Allie turned back to him. His look was seeping into her. She felt a rising sensation in her belly, a thrilling ride that was gaining momentum, its destination unknown.
    “I’m used to it.” Allie waved off his comment. Marty’s stare moved with her. Allie could feel his heat, his woodsy scent filling the air between them. “Marty, Dan made his choice. It obviously wasn’t me. It was his job.” Allie turned away from him and started packing the paints into a basket.
    The only sound in the room was Marty’s boots moving across the floor toward the window. Allie had never spoken about Dan with such resentment. She’d kept things buried for so long. Now her resentment was rearing its ugly head. She’d given up a lot to move here with him, a successful art studio, her friends, and business contacts. There was only so much a person could hold in and keep contained. Her tolerance tank was full, unwilling to hold any more.
    Something inside of her had shifted. What had caused this shift was standing right here with her, in this room. While she packed the paints, Marty gazed out the window. Allie tried to read him, speculating what he was thinking. Was it the same thing she was?
    “Would you like anything, Marty? A glass of wine, maybe?”
    He turned away from the window, his hands in his pockets.
    “Sure. Actually, you don’t happen to have any beer, do you?” He walked toward her work table.
    “Actually I do. How about a Foster’s Lager?”
    “Perfect.” He took the basket from her, following her downstairs.
    They sat in the kitchen and drank. Allie was on her third glass of wine, Marty on his second beer. She told him Tess had given her permission to use her facilities while she was gone.
    “Oh, yeah.” Marty’s eyes brightened. “She does have a nice pool back there.” He wiped the condensation from the large can. Allie changed