AllFreeNovel
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The house was built in the ’60s, so it has great bones. Brick exterior, so no siding to power-wash. My style on the inside is comfort first, style second, in gray and steel blue and black. I lean toward clean lines and modern lighting. Last year I installed the pale gray-flecked countertops and painted the cabinetry black.
“Wow. Nice place.” Allie sweeps a hand along the high bar top separating the kitchen and living room. “It’s cute.”
“Cute?”I ask, alarmed.
“Would you prefer manly?”
“I would. Yes.”
“It is masculine. The colors. The simplicity.” She taps the pile of mail on the kitchen table next to a laptop and a stack of receipts. “You should fire your secretary.”
“Yeah. He’s the worst.” We share a smile, knowing I mean me. “I expanded my company this year but haven’t committed to an office space yet.”
“Or help for the office.”
“Or that. Tour?”
“Sure.”
I show her around, which doesn’t take long. One bathroom, two bedrooms. My bed’s unmade, which she points out. I notice she lingers in the doorway, eyes on the sheets, but her expression reveals nothing.
We pass through the kitchen and step outside.
“Whoa. Jax. This is beautiful.” She’s referring to the deck/patio area—modern, stained natural wood, strings of white lights. (I flipped the switch on before we came out.)
“Last summer I built the contemporary slatted roof and installed a ceiling fan. The seating area’s new this year. I host a summer party every year. Figure the crew will enjoy that.”
“Totally.” She wanders down the steps, past the patio, and into the plush green grass. A fire pit overflows with stray sticks I picked up from the yard. “Sounds like fun.”
“It is. I make a batch of Burke-bombers, which puts at least one person on their ass every year. Last year it was Catarina, Barrett’s girlfriend.”
“Barrett Fox.” She nods in recognition. “Still friends with that troublemaker?”
“ ’Fraid so.”
“He and Beth finally called it quits, huh?”
“Yeah.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to say no one expects college relationships to last, but it hits too close to home, so I don’t.
“Why does the name Catarina sound familiar?”
“She’s the journalist who dated him for a column last year to improve the way he was being perceived by an unhappy public.”
“Right. I heard about that.”
“Neither of them planned on it, but what they had turned into more.”
“Amateurs,” she teases. Surrounded by twinkle lights, her hands in her back pockets, Allie couldn’t be more tempting. I look down at her as she looks up at me.
Unlike with Fox and Catarina, there’s no danger of Allie and me uncovering a hidden layer in the other. Of us being intrigued by the unknown. We’ve been there and done that and she likely has one of my old T-shirts to prove it. What’s between us is about now—right now. Adding a photo op or two isn’t going to change anything.
Our problem was never attraction—unless we’re talking about too much of it. Our problem was that she left and expected me to go with her. Our problem is that we want different lives. I want to own a business and build things, and she wants to be in the spotlight and attend parties surrounded by other famous people.
We may have been each other’s worlds when we were together, but we’re worlds apart now.
“Take me home?”
Now, why did my brain hear “take me to bed?” My dick stirs to life, mishearing the same thing.
