She sighs. “I should’ve. I’ve never been there. I was supposed to come for a vacation once, but Ted isn’t a fan of people coming over.” She rolls her eyes. “You have met Ted, haven’t you?”
Ted Seltzer isn’t one of my favorite people in the world. He’s uptight and kind of a prick, and I’ve never understood what Libby sees in him. I go out of my way to be nice—friendly, even—in hopes that it’ll break through the ice and we can have neighborly barbecues because Libby is one hell of a cook, but it doesn’t work. The ice remains.
“Point made,” I admit. “But why were you breaking into Libby’s house? Didn’t she leave you a key?”
She gives me a knowing look. “Libby and I were going to have a girls’ weekend since Ted was in San Diego. Then Ted decided that Libby should go to California with him for a vacation—which is a super not-Ted-like thing to do. Lib told me that I could come here anyway since I already had a plan and a ticket.”
I nod, following along.
“I guess Libby was behind schedule the day she left and forgot to leave a key. She disarmed the security system this morning from her phone but told me I had to figure out how to get in.”
“Did she know you would go through a window?”
“Yes,” she says like I’m ridiculous for asking. “She even told me which window in the back might be open. I guess her guest bedroom and your master bedroom are on the same corner of the house.”
“Lucky you.”
“Lucky me.” She smiles. “I’m Jaxi Thorpe, by the way.”
“Boone Mason. But you already knew that.”
She doesn’t say anything else, so I don’t either. Instead, I move around the counter as innocently as I can so that I can take all of her in.
There’s a small mole in the bend of her left arm that she presses her right thumb against. Black leggings hug muscled thighs, and a pair of black-and-white-checkered Vans are on her feet. Small gold circles the size of pencil erasers don her earlobes.
She’s a massive juxtaposition.
The pout of her lips makes her seem innocent, yet the fire in her eyes lends an air of experience that piques my curiosity. There’s a sweetness to her face and an all-out sexiness to her body. The humor in her banter makes me feel like I know her, but a reserved glimmer in her eye feels like a barrier.
It’s a good thing I like puzzles.
“Libby didn’t tell me why you were coming to Savannah,” I say as I’m-not-poking-for-information as I can.
“I’m moving,” she says, stretching her arms over her head. “I sold everything I own and am boarding a plane to Hawaii in a week.”
“Do you have family there?” I poke.
“No. Libby is the only family I really have. I have a half sister who’s … God knows where.” Her gaze pulls from mine and settles on an empty juice container. “I haven’t seen her in a long time.”
There’s a hint of a hollowness to her tone that bothers me.
“That must be hard,” I offer, thinking about how much it would suck if I didn’t see my family. “But what do I know? Not seeing my four brothers for a while might be nice.”
She looks at me again. “You have four brothers? I can’t imagine.”
I hop up on the counter. As soon as I sit, my phone begins to ring in my pocket. I flip it to silent.
“Yeah. They’re a pain in my ass,” I tell her, motioning to the phone. “That’s one of them now.”
“I always wished I had a big family. I used to beg my mom to adopt kids, but she refused.”
“I begged my mom to give my brothers away, and she refused too.” I hit the side button on my phone to stop it from vibrating. “See? That’s probably a different brother.”
She cocks her head to the side. “That actually sounds nice to me.”
“What does?”
“Having people want to talk to you like that. If someone calls me, they want something.”
“Oh, they want something too. Trust me.”
The air between us calms and settles into a comfortable ambience. Jaxi leans against the counter like she’s done it a hundred times before.
“I really am sorry I broke into your house,” she says.
“It’s no big deal. Apology accepted.”
Her lips twist into a smirk as she looks around the room. There’s a humor in her eyes that makes me smile without thinking about it. It’s instantaneous.
“If I’m being honest,” she says, her gaze—still sparkling—lands on me again. “I’m kind of relieved this isn’t Libby’s.”
“Why is that?”
“Because if she were this messy, I’d have to reassess everything I thought I knew about her.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask as she begins to laugh. “This isn’t bad.”
“You have an absolutely beautiful home, and it looks like a frat house.”
My jaw drops as I turn to look around the kitchen. An empty juice container sits next to the toaster that I’ve never used. A pyramid of used K-Cups is lined up next to a pile of beef jerky wrappers and a yellow, sticky ring from an overflowed glass of lemonade highlights a dusting of lemonade powder that didn’t make it into the pitcher.
She’s not wrong. But I’m not going to admit that.
“It does not look like a frat house,” I contend. “Have you even been in a frat house?”
“Yes, I have. And, yes, it does.”
“Then I need to fire my housekeeper.”
She turns her head sideways and peers at me through the corner of her eye. “You do not have a housekeeper.”
“Yes, I do.” I nod emphatically. “Her name is Janey, and she’s a gem.”
“A gem as in she’s buried in the earth and doesn’t come to work?”
I try to stay stone-faced, but the twinkle in her eye breaks me quick.
Our laughter mixes together. The stress in my shoulders melts away, and I find myself getting a plan together to ask her to grab some dinner
