“Open the window,” he yells, tapping on the glass, seemingly believing I can’t hear him.Was he born yesterday?
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see them, and do as he asked, smiling while the window opens. “Can I help you?” I lower my sunglasses ever so slightly and innocently bat my eyelashes.
The guy’s eyes widen before he shakes his head in annoyance. “You need a permit to park here.”
“I’m sorry, are you a cop?”
“No. I live here.” He says no in that long way Aussies say it—nawr or noowa—and it makes me smile, further pissing him off.
“The fun police then? Got it. I’ll risk the ticket.” I grab the door handle, as his fingers curl around the windowsill, the veins in his tanned skin bulging.
Andfuck me…I’m moving here. I don’t need to be a Hollywood star. I’ll be a beach babe. I’ll—
“Move yourdamncar.” His hand tightens around the metal and I struggle to avert my gaze.I wonder if he realizes the anger makes him hotter. “Look, I just got home from a long night at work.”
“So…?”
“You need a permit to park here!”
“Oooh. You want myparkingspace?”
“Yes!”
“Can’t you park somewhere else? Don’t you have a driveway?”
“I do but I can’t park there because… God. I don’t have to explain myself. I need you to move your car.”
“Where am I going to park?”
“Not my problem.”
“It kind of is. I’m not going to move until I know where to go.”
“God—” He cuts himself off and steps back, running a hand down his gorgeous face, his expression turning neutral. “Please. Can you please move your car so I can park here? The inspectors come by at least three times a day. Trust me, you don’t want that fine.”
My shoulders drop along with the tone of his voice, and I let out a soft sigh. “Okay. I’m going.”
“Thank you.”
He walks away without another word and I search around for my phone, taking one last look at Jack’s house before throwing my rental into drive and pulling away. I resist the urge to flip him off, but when it takes me another twenty-five minutes to find somewhere that isn’t marked with a residents only sign, I regret that decision. At least then I’d have an ounce of satisfaction to accompany my frustration.
I’m a hot mess by the time I make it to Jack’s front door, and only then does it occur to me that he may not be home.Why the hell didn’t we exchange goddamn phone numbers?
I knock on the huge gray door until I find what appears to be an intercom and buzz the doorbell. A red light comes on and I smile, certain that somethingthatfancy has a camera.
I almost wave until the door flies open and I jump, coming face-to-face with someone that is definitelynotJack.
Instead, the broody god from the street stands dripping in front of me, an obnoxiously bright beach towel wrapped around his waist. Water pools in the crevices of his abs, and I find myself watching one little drop as it makes its way toward his—
“Can I help you?” He clears his throat, repeating my words back to me. I continue to stare at his chest, the answer yes sitting on the tip of my tongue.
I bet he could help megoood.
My body heats, imagining all the things he could do to me.
“Jenna?”
I snap out of my fantasy, my gaze darting to Jack standing behind my new “friend,” finding him in a similar state of undress, only, he’s somehow more alluring since he’s wearing gray sweatpants and an adorably confused expression. Much better than a scowl.
