He held a hand to his mouth. “I’m sorry.” He laughed some more. “It’s just too funny.”
“I don’t find it even remotely amusing.” I blinked back tears. “How can you laugh about what people are saying about me? About us?”
That caught his attention. “You’re right.” He pulled me into his arms, and I rested my head on his chest. “It’s not funny.”
In his arms, I felt safe. In his arms, I felt whole. And while it had been easy to escape last night, easy to believe the fantasy was real, it had all come crashing down with one comment. One seemingly innocent question from Sophia.
“Preston, I’m ready,” Sophia called as her feet pounded down the stairs.
I backed away from him, putting some space between us. But he leaned in, speaking low in my ear. “You need to tell her about us.”
His breath tickled my ear, and I wanted to sink into him. “I can’t. Not yet.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but he glanced at something over my shoulder and smiled instead. “Ready, princess.”
“Nuh-uh.” She pointed at his shorts. “Where’s your swimsuit?”
“Oh right,” he said with an exaggerated eye roll. “I need to change.”
“What were you doing this whole time?” she asked.
“Talking to your mom.”
“About what?”
“Your…birthday party.” He strode toward the back door, opening it for her. When she hesitated at the threshold, he said, “There’re no cougars. I promise. I checked.”
I groaned and dropped my head on the counter, only to lift it a moment later when the doorbell rang.
“What now?” I padded over to the front door.
I was surprised to discover Christine, one of the agents from my brokerage, standing on my porch. I tilted my head to the side, one hand still gripping the edge of the door.
“Hey, Alexis,” she said. “I’m sorry to bother you at home, but I’ve been trying to call and text and email.”
She shifted her designer bag to her other arm, and suddenly, I felt incredibly underdressed in my scalloped shorts and tank top. My makeup was minimal, my hair was in loose waves, and I was positive from her expression that she’d never seen me look so…casual.
“You have?” I frowned, feeling a bit unprofessional. A bit—naked.
I glanced at my phone, realizing it was completely dead. No wonder there were no calls. I knew it had seemed odd. I hadn’t thought to log in to my computer because my emails automatically forwarded to my phone. Now I was kicking myself for thinking I could step back, relax, unplug.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I ushered her inside.
“Um, where to start?” She gestured wildly with her hands—always a tell that Christine was frazzled. “The seller for Miller stopped by wanting to talk to you. The escrow on Hummingbird fell through, and the buyer heard it from the bank before us. And…”
Her eyes were focused on something behind me. Even without looking, I knew it had to be Preston. A moment later, the glass door slid open, and he sauntered into the kitchen wearing nothing but his swim trunks.
He smiled, the white of his teeth almost as dazzling as the V of his waist. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we had company.”
I watched Christine, noticing how high her brows rose on her forehead.
“We forgot the sunscreen. I’ll just—” Preston hooked a thumb over his shoulder.
I returned my attention to Christine, leaning my hip against the counter. So far, she’d only told me bad news. I was hoping it would improve, but I doubted it. I’d been gone for one day.One. And the office seemed to have completely fallen apart in my absence.
“Is there something else?” I asked, impatient to determine the full extent of the damage.
She cleared her throat, returning her attention to me. “And the buyers on the Trousdale house are insistent they won’t close on the deal unless the light fixture in the kitchen is included.”
