“Hey, baby, you ready?” The guy Amy was hanging on earlier stands a few feet away and nods toward the door.
“Gotta go,” she says. She wriggles her fingers in a little wave. “Enjoy yourself tonight.”
I shift on my stool to check on Stella, but she’s gone. So much for enjoying myself.Chapter ThreeKaceThe sun is shining, the smell of barbecue is in the air, the beer is cold, and my favorite people are scattered in groups around the pool and in the yard beyond. This is why I wanted to buy this house—not because of how it could look once restored to its former glory, not because of the backyard privacy fence so tall I forget I even have neighbors, but because of whom it could hold. This’ll be the place where Hope has her birthday parties. It’ll be the place where I invite my friends for pool parties in the summer and gluttonous feasts at Thanksgiving. If I couldn’t keep the family I planned, I’ll celebrate the one I have in my friends.
It’s far from perfect, and the few months of work I’ve put in have barely scratched the surface, but today I’m reminded of why I took the plunge and bought the old plantation-style home in Orchid Valley’s historic district. I needed to get out of the house where I thought I’d grow old with my wife.
When I got home last night, the quiet was so deafening that I almost considered opening up that app Amy installed for me. Almost. Instead, I focused on last-minute prep work for today’s cookout and then crashed, trying not to think about Amy going home with that guy. Finally, my mind settled on thoughts of Stella . . . and stayed there until I forgot about Amy completely.
Now Stella’s stretched out by my pool in an itsy-bitsy, pink-striped bikini I’ve been trying like hell not to appreciate since the moment she peeled off her sundress. Her red hair is piled in a messy bun on top of her head, and one long leg is stretched out in front of her, the other bent at the knee. Her sunglasses are perched on the tip of her nose, and she’s biting her tongue between her teeth while she messes around on her phone.
Is she messaging someone? Some guy who might be willing to do something about the thirst she mentioned last night?
I’d bet she has a list of guys who’d run right over if she asked. And from the way she talks, I’m pretty sure she asks as often as she pleases, which—good for her. She’s young and single. She can do whatever and whomever the fuck she pleases. And if the idea bugs me more than it should? Well, that’s something I’ll be taking to my grave.
I stoop to the cooler and pull out a White Claw—Stella hates beer—and take it to her. “For you,” I say, offering the can.
She drops her phone between her legs and props her sunglasses on the top of her head before taking it from me. “Thank you.” She grins. “Is serving me, like, your thing now?”
She said serving me, but my brain heard servicing me, and my imagination grabs on to that with both hands. Fuck. “You’re welcome.” My gaze dips to her cleavage and the sheen of sweat that’s gathered in the afternoon sun. I’m pretty sure this is the part where I walk away, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to say anything to encourage her, either, so I go all boring-dad mode on her instead. “I hope you have sunblock on.”
“If I said no, would you help me get my back?”
I cough. Don’t make it weird. “Sure. Whatever.”
She chuckles, a low, husky sound that seems to reroute all my blood to south of my waistband. There’s nothing that amuses Stella more than watching me get awkward when she pretends to throw herself at me. The thing is, it wouldn’t be awkward at all if I weren’t so determined to resist. If she were serious and I decided to indulge in that little fantasy . . . Fuck. I already know it’d be damn good.
“Good to know.” She cracks open the can and brings it to her lips. I’m mesmerized by the single drop of sweat that rolls down her neck as she tilts her head back and drinks. When she pulls the can away, she grins, like she knows just what I was thinking.
Friend zone. Keep it in the friend zone. “Thanks for coming today, Freckles.”
She smiles at her old nickname and stretches her legs in front of her, pointing her toes. “I’ll hang out at your pool any time you want for as long as you want.”
I arch a brow and let my gaze slide over her. “And will you wear that?” Apparently the beer and the warm sun have made me forget all my better judgment.