I didn’t believe her, so I pushed past her spite and anger. “What are you doing up here so late? It’s after midnight.”
She looked resigned. “I come up here when I can’t sleep. Which is a lot.”
“Ah. An insomniac,” I said.
“Going for a swim?” she asked. “You’ll freeze.”
“That’s kinda the point. My shoulder’s worse. I’m out for a few games.”
Jessie’s face went sympathetic. “I’m sorry. That must suck.”
Her softness surprised me. Normally she fought me constantly. “Thanks. It does suck. Who got murdered this time?”
She looked alarmed. “What?”
“On your show. What murder are they talking about?”
“It’s a series on the Golden State Killer,” she said.
“Didn’t he live here? Maybe that’s what’s keeping you up at night.”
She laughed and her smile lingered. It was striking. She had two big front teeth that gave her a bunny-like appearance and a tiny dimple on one cheek. I liked how she wasn’t perfectly symmetrical. There was nothing fake about her, unlike the women who I usually frequented. Don’t get me wrong, they were beautiful, too. But I liked how Jessie didn’t seem to feel the need to change herself just because she wasn’t a runway model.
I’d never seen Jessie smile before, not with teeth. Her little wispy brown bangs accentuated her hazel eyes. The overall appearance reminded me of a young Stevie Nicks, except with just-above-the-shoulders brown hair. She was stunning. “They actually soothe me, believe it or not.”
“Stop right there,” I said, sitting on the edge of her pool chair. “Stay like that.”
Her eyes got big and her smile faded. “What? Is there a bug on me?”
“No. You’ve never smiled at me. This is a big moment in our friendship. I want to look longer.”
Jessie clapped her hands over her mouth and squealed. My fingers circled her wrists, trying to pry them away.
“Who are you, Ben Mikey Jockey? What is your deal anyway?” she asked as she fought me off.
“I’m your new best friend,” I said with a grin.
“No, you’re fucking not!”
“Okay, maybe not best friend, but can we at least call a truce? I’ve been told I lack a filter, but I swear I mean no harm.”
“Get out of my bubble and I’ll think about it!” she barked.
“Fine,” I said, standing and peeling off my shirt. I flexed my pecs. “Truce now?”
“Are you always this...” She frowned at me, searching for the word.
“Beautiful? Muscular? Friendly? Gorgeous? Those are all good words, Jessalyn.”
She got back to her knitting and chuckled. “I was thinking more ‘full of shit.’ Are you always this full of shit?”
“Is that a good quality or a bad one?” I wiggled my eyebrows at her.
She just shook her head. “What are we gonna do with you, Jockey?”
“Call a truce, that’s what.”
“Fine. Truce.”
