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“And you?” I ask with an accusing tone, feeling hurt by his question and wanting a little revenge.
“No,” he answers quickly and softly. “There’s nobody.”
I should feel glad, but it’s the way he says it that shifts my mood instantly.
“But, family?” I ask him, probing deeper only because I can’t believe someone as remarkable as Blake Mason is alone in this world.
Nobody. That title’s reserved for short, thicker girls who majored in photography.
“Nope. Just me,” he says again, shrugging and holding his hands’ palms up out in front of himself.
A second ago I thought he was having a dig at me for being single. But hearing Blake say he’s alone really hurts me more for some reason.
What chance do I have if the Blake Masons of this world can’t find anyone?
“It doesn’t mean I’m not available,” he says confidentially, leaning over so close to my ear I can feel the warmth of his breath. Getting another blast of his delicious spice and woodsy scent.
My mind goes blank for a second I almost forget how to drive. The sound of Blake shifting back to his side of the car brings me back around again.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Blake Mason was flirting with me.
But an older guy like him? A man with a god damned platinum credit card and a custom tailored suit?
I’m still not convinced and tell myself he’s jet lagged or that I’m just reading too much into things.
We drive in silence for a while, having had some time to mull things over he seems to want to start fresh.
“So, how are my fish?” he asks, catching me off guard really because I have no idea. Only that my dad said he was feeding them.
“Oh, fine,” I tell him too quickly, feeling his sidelong glance as he smiles to himself yet again.
I hope for my sake they are fine.
But I still can’t get over it.
Blake Mason. Our new neighbor.
Shit.
Chapter Four
Blake
It’s not long before I realize that Krystal knows about as much about her ‘dad’s new neighbor’ as I do.
Lucky for me, although none of it makes any difference. I’d have thought of something to get and stay close to Krystal as soon as we met.
Circumstance just helped me along a little.
Helped us both.
So far I know her dad’s away and that she’s single. Which is excellent news, for me.
I tell her I’m flying solo too, but that I am available, which isn’t too over the top for the first half-hour or so of knowing someone.
Is it?
Never would I say something like that to anyone else, but with Krystal, I need her to know.
Asking about the fish her dad’s been feeding is supposed to make me sound more like whoever the hell this guy is, but I decide to keep the questions toned down a little until I do get ‘home’.
Then I can start snooping good and proper, find out who I really am pretending to be.
That’s if he isn’t home already.
I frown at the thought, but figure lady luck’s been on my side all day so far. I don’t feel like anything can go wrong when I have days like this.
Days where everything I touch seems to turn to gold. Or in this case, turning to Krystal.
She makes some small talk, and I can sense she’s steering things away from fish, magazines, and romance.
Asking me about my ‘trip’ to London is fine, I’ve been there so many times I could talk to anyone about it all day.
“I’d like to travel one day,” Krystal sighs dreamily, and I remind her it’s not always glamorous.
“Long haul flights, change in the weather. Not to mention the food. Some places it’s not even safe to drink the water,” I hear myself cautioning her.
A bigger part of me only wanting her to stay here where she belongs. With me.
“You seem to have coped okay,” she observes with a sly grin, letting her eyes stray to my lap again before moving up my body.
“From the jet lag, I mean,” she adds quickly.
“It probably hasn’t hit me yet,” I tell her. Thinking about my good fortune in meeting her over any supposed jet lag I’m supposed to have.
I talk some more about the pros of travel, suddenly realizing travel with Krystal would be exciting.
Hell. Just riding in a tiny car with her is exciting enough for me. She could drive us cross country in this thing, as long as I’m with her.
“You have a passport?” I find myself asking, already planning the possibilities in my mind.
I curl my lip in frustration when she tells me no.
“Well, we’ll have to sort that out,” I murmur, and hearing me she seems to become inwardly excited.
“It’s worth having,” I add, offhand. “You just never know when you might need to travel,” I tell her with an air of mystery but in reality, I’ve already started the process of her application in my mind.
