My boots clapped on the pavement, each new sound bringing another wave of goosebumps as I approached the front door. Someone walked past the window again, and I froze. She looked younger than in the picture. Could she be even more beautiful in person?
“Can I help you?” An angelic voice from behind me made me whirl hastily around, crashing right into the woman who had snuck up on me.
“Fuck! I’m so sorry,” I yelped as we untangled ourselves.
She wasn’t just more beautiful in person; she was the most perfect thing I’d ever seen.
Her white tank top was translucent where the sweat had pooled between her creamy breasts, allowing me to just make out the lines of her underboob and nipples in the strained fabric. She wore a pair of denim shorts that exposed her smooth, olive-toned legs that were tanned to perfection and ended in toes painted a deep red. Those green eyes stared right back into mine; green like the grass and trees absorbing the southern moisture, the color of life blooming in her irises.
A few strands of my mother’s long tawny hair had fallen in front of her eyes, and she secured them in her hair tie as she laughed softly. “That’s alright, I shouldn’t have ninja’d up behind you like that!” She insisted, straightening herself out and slipping off a pair of dirty gardening gloves. “Is there something you need? Lindsay is home if you’re looking for her.” She raised an eyebrow at me.
Lindsay? Was that the girl I’d seen in the window? Had I just been ogling my own sister?
“I–” The words just couldn’t find their way out of me. “Tracy? Tracy Dunn?”
She took a closer look at my face, her eyes going wide as her mouth fell open. I swear my name bounced silently off her luscious lips before she said, “Yes….”
I tried to stand up tall; I had a good two or three inches on her, but I suddenly felt small and afraid. “My name is Oliver.”
She dropped her gloves, throwing her delicate, veiny hands over her mouth. The wedding ring on her slender finger caught the sunlight as she gasped.
“I’m Oliver,” I said again, my voice breaking. “I’m your son.”
“Mom!” A young woman’s voice called out somewhere behind the house, and my mother’s neck snapped around and then back to me. Her lips were quivering, panic washed over her gorgeous face.
I didn’t know what else to say, so I said the first thing that came to mind. “Would you like to grab a coffee?”