“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 with me. Before I can think it through, she turns toward the doorway.
“Where are you going?” I ask, scrambling off the counter.
“Apparently, I need to break into Libby’s house now.” She looks at her elbow as she walks. “I think I’ll aim for a lower window this time. I had to jump a little to get into yours and sliced my arm.”
She pauses in the doorway to inspect her wound. I reach out and touch her wrist without thinking about it. Our eyes snap together at the contact. Slowly, our lips spread into smiles.
She rolls her arm over. Red, angry scratches mar her soft, otherwise smooth skin.
“Your window ledge is super sharp,” she says softly.
“Probably because it’s not made for people to climb in and out of.”
With a solid dose of hesitation, I drop my hand. My palm still tingles from the contact with her warm skin as my gaze flips to hers again.
“I’ll help you get into Libby’s,” I tell her. “No more climbing.”
My phone buzzes. Again.
I pull it out and see a list of texts from Coy. The previews get increasingly more hostile. Before I can hit reply to any of them, his name flashes as an incoming call. Again.
“You better get that,” she says, pointing at my phone. “I’ll figure this out on my own. No worries.”
I grin. “Nah, you’ve made it my problem now. I can’t, in good conscience, let you climb through another window. Besides, I told your cousin I’d watch out for you.”
Something I said makes her bristle.
Her back straightens in the slightest way, her chin lifting a smidgen. “I’ll be fine.”
“Yes, you will. Just let me answer my brother real quick.” I motion for her to wait and then answer the phone. “Hey, Coy.”
“You’re alive,” he deadpans.
I turn to the side and pretend to look out of the window. “Obviously.”
“You could’ve texted me that, asshole.”
“Let’s dial down the dramatics, okay?” I say, running a hand through my hair as I watch Jaxi head toward the door.
“What? You are telling me to dial down the dramatics?” He groans into the phone. “I’m going to kill you myself.”
Jaxi opens the door and steps onto the porch. I follow her.
“It was the role player, wasn’t it?” Coy asks. “Damn you, Boone. I’ve been worried, and you’ve been—”
“It wasn’t her, actually, but …”
Jaxi stops at the edge of the porch. The evening sun streams through the trees, and every ray seems to somehow find her. She stands in the glow of Golden Hour, the light giving her a soft filter.
“Are you listening to me?” my brother asks, snapping my attention back to the phone. “Oliver wants to play corn hole, and I need you on my team. Me and you against Oliver and Holt because you know Wade’s lame ass isn’t playing.”
Slowly, Jaxi drags her attention back to me. A cautious grin splits her cheeks.
My heartbeat picks up as I lean against the wall. There’s an energy between Jaxi and me, a chemistry that overrides the wild circumstance. I just met her—she just broke into my house, but I feel like I’ve known her longer than ten minutes.