The Boy Next Door by Katy Baker

Tasting The Boy Next Door
    “ B ut I don't need anyone’s help!” Melissa Smyth yelled. “I’m nineteen years old and damn sure I can cope alone for one measly month!” She sounded like a spoiled brat but was beyond caring. Righteous indignation made her blood boil.
    Her father, Richard Smyth, spread his hands and sighed. “How many times must we go through this, Melissa? Rory is just going to help around the house and garden while we’re away. What’s so bad about that?”
    Although he spoke in a calm, soothing manner, his words only made Melissa angrier. She stamped her foot in exasperation. Her parents might like to dress this up as doing her a favor but Melissa knew what it really meant. They didn’t trust her. Thought she needed a babysitter.
    And to make matters worse who had they asked to help? Rory Thompson. Freckly, bespectacled, goody-two-shoes Rory Thompson, the geekiest boy in her class. Melissa had spent most of her childhood trying to escape him as he trailed after her all doe-eyed. But as he was the son of their next-door neighbor, she'd been hard-pressed to avoid him. Thankfully he’d been traveling the last three years so she'd not had to see his dopey face. But he’d come home last week and been recruited by Melissa's father to keep things ticking over whilst he and Melissa's mother, Claire, were on a business trip in Dubai.
    Did her father think her a complete idiot? How difficult was it to mow a lawn or run a vacuum cleaner over the carpet? When would he stop treating her like a baby?
    “Look, daddy, I'm perfectly capable—”
    “Melissa!” he cut in, frowning so his black hair fell over his forehead. “It's decided. Rory will be here in a minute and I expect you to play nicely. Clear?”
    Melissa recognized that tone. It meant he wouldn't be argued with any more. She crossed her arms over her chest and threw herself onto the couch. “Fine!”
    Her father seemed about to say something else but the doorbell rang and he marched into the hallway.
    “Rory! Good to see you!”
    “Hi, Mr. Smyth. Ready for the off?”
    “I was packed hours ago but I'm afraid my wife is still upstairs doing those mysterious last minute things only women seem to understand.”
    Indulgent laughter carried into the living room, making Melissa seethe. So her parents thought she needed a nursemaid did they? Rory Thompson thought he could waltz in here like a knight in shining armor did he? Well she’d show the lot of them! Oh she’d let Rory Thompson help her all right. She’d have him running around like a slave by the end of this month! He wouldn't know what hit him. A wicked grin stole over Melissa's face at the thought.
    “Melissa, come and say hi to Rory,” her father called.
    Pleased with herself, Melissa plastered on a sweet smile—one she knew would reduce Rory Thompson to a gibbering wreck—then sauntered from the living room, being sure to swing her hips in a most alluring fashion.
    But as she entered the hallway she halted in sudden confusion. A tall, tanned young man stood with her father. Soft brown waves fell onto his broad shoulders and the fabric of his t-shirt was pulled tight over his muscular chest in a way that made Melissa's mouth go dry. After a moment, the stranger turned large brown eyes on her and smiled, his full lips pulling back over perfect white teeth.
    “Hi, Melissa.”
    She paused, flustered. Who was this? Surely not geeky, annoying Rory Thompson? This guy was toned, tanned and totally hot! Could three years in Thailand turn him into this?
    She worked her jaw a few times before croaking, “Rory?”
    He laughed, a deep, clear sound that sent goose bumps riding up Melissa's skin. “Don't you recognize me? I shouldn’t be surprised — mom reckons I've turned into a hippie beach bum while I’ve been away.”
    Beach bum? Melissa thought. Hardly. The way his shirt hugged his rippling frame made him look more like some bronzed Adonis from Greek legend. Not that she was going to