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“This guy who is renting the Tolbert house behind us. Meredith doesn’t like him.”
He blinks, his face going blank. “You’re worried about a man your cat doesn’t like?” I nod. “She doesn’t like me.”
“Truthfully, she doesn’t like most men. Well, except for Jon. I have no idea why she likes him.”
Besides the fact that he’s pretty, his blue eyes are amazing, and he smells like a dream.
“Is the only reason you don’t like him because of Meredith?”
I shake my head. “No. He’s creepy.”
“Okay.”
I hear the tone. Listen, I know I’m a lot to take. Most people can’t deal with my constant struggle to remain on topic or my insane love for Taylor Swift. Also, not everyone thinks Froot Loops is a balanced meal. I get it. But there is one thing I am good at, and that’s reading people. One of the reasons I earned my BS in Sociology was because I could never figure people out. I would see their behavior and be perplexed by their motivations. Like Chet, my first serious boyfriend. I thought he was a good guy, but I was waaaaay off on that account. In my defense, I had been eighteen and thought I was in love.
“Avery?”
I glance up at him and smile. “Sorry. Off gathering wool. It’s why I don’t normally come to these things. I find them very overwhelming.”
Although, I do love the dress. It’s a dream, clinging to every one of my curves, and for once, that makes me feel pretty.
“No problem. I’m the same way, but I thought I should make an appearance. Estella insisted.”
“She did?”
He smiles. “Yeah. She showed up a day or two ago. You know, when Estella Howard shows up to the police station slash city hall, it causes people to freak out.”
I laugh. “I can imagine.”
“I think Jim almost passed out when she showed up at the desk and insisted on talking to me.”
“My grandmother has that effect on people.”
I turn, ready to make a sarcastic remark but can’t. I’m too stunned to make a sound. If Jon was pretty from across the room, he’s downright dangerous to my libido this close. He definitely tried to get his hair under control again tonight, but a few curls have broken free. His tux is definitely custom-made, and he looks like James Bond. That is, if James Bond was a persnickety know-it-all trying to make me homeless.
“Howard.”
“Collins.”
There’s a thread of danger to Jon’s voice, and I’m not sure what to think about that. I mean, other than to think about it later when I spend time with my vibrator.
No. Dammit. I need to stop that. He’s not the man I should be fantasizing about. He’s so particular about things, worrying about every detail. I can tell from the way he lives, and it is so annoying. It’s also so freaking hot because all I can think about is how he would be in bed. I mean, if he is that detail oriented about cooking, I bet he’s good with his hands.
God, why? Why do I think about these things? I know we have a truce of sorts, but I need to remind myself that he hates everything about me.
“I see you arrived finally.”
I frown at him. “Were you looking for me?”
He rolls his eyes. “No. It’s just that I thought you would be here earlier.”
“I had to be Cinderella’d to get here. Do you think I could get to look this perfect without a ton of help?”
His gaze travels down my body, then rises back up, seemingly fixating on my mouth. It’s ruby red, a color I don’t always use. Lord, that is hotter than any time a guy kissed me.
“You do look amazing.”
“Oh, hey, look over there. Someone wants to talk to me.”
