Playing With Trouble (Desire Bay 1)

“You have to eat sometime,” he said. For now. Because he wanted another night with Laura. “I’m ready to be wowed.”

She smiled and opened the door. She walked through, and Jake placed both his hands on the door frame and leaned in to get a good look.

“Holy hell,” he said in surprise. The place was clean, smelled like vanilla and fresh rain, and was . . . warm. He kept his spot on the outer step but shoved his big body through the doorway a bit more to look around. There were pops of color everywhere. A little vase of flowers on the small, two-person table. The bed was made up with a purple, gold, and cream quilt and matching pillowcases. He blinked to clear away the mirage he was seeing. Because this had to be a mirage.

Laura sat at the table and reached down to take off one heel, then the other.

“I love that face,” she said, looking at him with pure joy.

Jake frowned. “What face?”

“The one you’re making now,” she said. “You’re impressed and realize that I’m right. It’s nice in here. May not be a . . . what was it? Gorgeous, custom-built house? But it’s homey. And it’s mine.”

Jake glanced around again. She was right. It was homey. So much that he wanted to come inside. Have a cup of coffee with her. Because every inch of the camper was all her. And Walt. It was a Baughman place. And damn if he didn’t desperately want to be a part of that.

“You can let yourself out now,” she said.

Jake nodded once. They were right back to square one. Which really sucked, because he was trying for more squares. But he was growing increasingly confused. She’d obviously spent hours cleaning this place. Between that and making that list of hers, she must not have slept at all last night. But she’d made the camper her own. Would that make her stick around this time and not take off at the next best

opportunity? He didn’t get how someone like Laura could be so wrong, yet so right.

Wrong for him, at least. He’d been burned once and knew better than to trust her kind of woman. The kind that was constantly eyeing the bigger, better deal. But there was a kindness to her. A good work ethic. A spirit of ambition.

Yes, he liked her.

Had for a long time.

But he still had to be smart. Responsible. Sort of.

Nothing about her made sense, and he was starting to feel like a key puzzle piece was missing.

“I really do like what you’ve done with the place,” Jake said honestly. “And the woman today at my house was my sister.”

She paused and looked up at him. Jake figured Laura hadn’t gotten a good look at her and even if she had, Erica had changed a lot in the past decade. A flash of emotion spread over Laura’s face. Sadness, happiness, relief? It was so complex he couldn’t pinpoint it. But there was a slight downturn of her mouth that made him think she was hurting.

He didn’t know why he’d said that, but he’d felt like he had to. To clear the air. To let her know he wasn’t with anyone but her.

“It’s your life,” she said. “I’m not asking questions.”

With one last look at her, he stepped down. He was officially on the outside and she was on the inside. And for some reason, his big, beautiful, custom-made house didn’t feel so great at the moment.

She wasn’t asking him questions. Wasn’t asking him in. In fact, he stood there, with the sun starting to set, wishing he could do some of the asking. First question would be why she had a sad look in her eyes. Why she was working so hard at something that was doomed. Why was she so . . . relentless?

Wanting to know Laura Baughman was a bad thing. He should be concentrating on keeping his distance, not wondering what she was doing later and if she’d ever consider having dinner with him.

He tried again.

“Laura,” he said despite his better judgment. “I’d like to take you to dinner. Any night, you pick.”

Her eyes looked soft; then she said, “I can’t. I have plans.”

“All week?”

She nodded. “I can’t do dinner with you, Jake.”

That’s when the events of last night hit him. “Can you do dinner with someone else? Like Deputy Quarterback?”

She didn’t say anything. And the longer Jake stood there, the more he felt like an outsider. Literally.