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I snort to myself. I should really leave the baseball metaphors to someone who actually watches baseball.
Climbing out of my car, I shut the door, bleep the locks—though I’m not sure it’s necessary within their gated driveway—and head for the stairs. I have the first foot poised on the very bottom one when the door bursts open and a tornado of arms, legs, and tanned-skin teenager comes flying through.
I, being the graceful human that I am, trip and fall immediately. “Oh my God,” the blond girl shrieks. “Dad!”
All of a sudden, I’m being lifted to my feet by strong hands under my armpits. When I look back over my shoulder, Jake Brent’s blue-green eyes are assessing me closely. I swear I didn’t even see him descend the stairs.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and the mortification of being rescued by him for a second time today makes my neck feel hot.
“Yeah,” I assure him through a thick swallow. “I’m fine.”
Just another night in the blundering world of Holley.
“You’re not hurt?” he prods further, pushing me back and away from his body a little so he can run his eyes over the length of me.
His scrutiny makes my hot neck spread into pink cheeks, but I shake my head. “I’m fine. Really. Just a little clumsy.”
“I’ll help you up the stairs,” he offers, but I shake my head to refuse.
“I know I’ve made quite the impression today, and I really do appreciate the offer, but I’m currently trying to hold on to my final shred of dignity.”
He smiles then, stepping back and sweeping his arm out ahead of me. “Understood. You lead the way.”
I do as he says, taking each step one at a time. Walking up a set of stairs isn’t normally such a difficult task for me. But today, with his eyes burning into the flesh at my back, it seems astonishingly more difficult.
A breath of relief fills my lungs as I make it to the top and turn to wait for his arrival. The girl’s energy is palpable as she skips from the doorway over to me and sticks out a hand for me to shake. “I’m Chloe, by the way. And sorry if I startled you. I’m just super stoked that you’re here.”
Jake rolls his eyes, but I take her hand all the same. She is, as it were, the one I have to thank for his entry in the first place.
She’s also the one who caused this whole debacle of a day, but after reading the ads I did over the last several hours, her gifts really outweigh the negatives.
“No worries, Chloe. I’m not the most graceful anyway.” Jake snorts, and I glare at him. “I owe you a thank-you for entering your dad, and more than that, it seems.” I lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper, though I’m absolutely positive Jake can still hear me. “How did you convince him to do it?”
Chloe starts to giggle, but Jake grabs her gently at the back of the neck and turns her toward the house without waiting for her to answer. Instead, he raises a pointed eyebrow at me.
“That’s not important. But if you don’t want me to change my mind, you should probably go ahead inside.”
As much as I want to needle him, I don’t dare test the waters. I need him to do this too badly at this point. With the bound of a gazelle, I prance inside.
He laughs, evidently hip to my point.
I’ll give Jake Brent that. So far, he has a great sense of humor. Not many men would find it in their hearts to be teased by a woman like me. A woman who, so far, has brought nothing but chaos to his life.
It hasn’t been on purpose, but it’s undeniable. I’ve yet to be anything but a giant thorn in Jake’s side.
Unfortunately, knowing what I know about the rules of the contest, I don’t see that ending anytime soon.
“Come on. Let’s head into the kitchen,” Jake suggests. He walks down the hall, and I follow, Chloe noticeably bouncing behind me.
Her feet make the cutest little rap on the wood floor.
I pay attention to the craftsmanship as I walk down the hallway. High ceilings, crown molding, and impeccable built-in shelves for neatly organized belongings. A light at the end of the hall beckons, opening up into what I can already tell is a large, state-of-the-art kitchen.
I can’t make out more than the color and quality of the cabinets as of yet—a beigey-gray custom wood—but they really say it all.
This house is the crème de la crème. Honestly, it pulls out all the stops.
Knowing that Jake is in the construction business, I can’t help but wonder if he built it himself.
And perhaps, what kind of sexual favors it would cost me to get him to do some work at my place,
