“Go get in your swim before your brother arrives,” she tells me when the ribs are ready and resting in the trays.
I love swimming and don’t have to be asked twice. The water is crystal-clear and a pleasant reprieve from the humidity. I slice across the pool in butterfly strokes while Mom and Dad relax in the loungers, holding hands, chatting, and sipping wine. They make marriage look easy, but I know they work at it.
When I hear Jared and Mara arrive—another happy couple—I pull up to the side, slick my hair off my forehead, and cross my arms on the ledge. Mara sends me an enthusiastic wave. It took me a while to get used to all her bubbly energy, but I like her. She’s personable, loves my brother, and fits in well with the family.
Jared squats in front of me, squinting against the sun. He has Mom’s darker hair, skin tone, and brown eyes, but Dad’s athletic build. This is utterly wasted on him, though, because he can’t play soccer or any sport worth a damn.
“Hey, Archie.” He grins, using the nickname he’d given me at eleven based on the redhead character from the comic book.
“Hey, Jughead,” I retort and climb out of the pool. But rather than wait to dry off, I give him a hug, full-on, dampening his shorts and polo shirt.
“Fuck, Jordyn.”
“Language, Jared,” Mom scolds.
He scowls at me and shakes himself like a wet dog. Annoying my brother is one of my favorite pastimes.
Over a dinner of ribs, potato salad, and corn-on-the-cob, Jared and Mara talk about a fixer-upper property they plan to buy and resell. “Did you get the house inspected?” Dad asks, always the practical one.
“Yep. We made a conditional offer.”
“Good man.” He squeezes my brother’s shoulder. “How’s your job, Peanut?” He turns to me.
“Work has been crazy with this new project,” I say, licking the BBQ sauce off my fingers.
“Is that Talon still giving you a hard time?”
“Nothing I can’t handle. He knows his stuff and is meeting his deliverables. That’s all that matters.”
“Make a note of any issue, even if it seems minor, in case you need to report it later.”
“Yeah, dudes like that can be vindictive,” my brother adds.
As in slashing my tire and breaking my window, that’s exactly what my father and brother will think if I tell them about the vandalism. They’ll be as bad as Stiles with their suspicions. And my mother won’t be much better. I don’t like keeping secrets from my family, but telling them would be a freaking disaster.
“I’ll watch out for any issues,” I say. “But I don’t think I have anything to worry about with Talon. His career is impacted by the project’s success too.”
“It doesn’t hurt to be prudent,” my mom says as reinforcement.
“Right.” I nod, noting that maybe I should add some of those security upgrades. Not because I think I have anything to fear or because Stiles suggested it, but security is a big thing these days. It could improve my rental value, ward off more vandalism, and offer my family peace of mind when I eventually tell them.
If only I could say the same about hiring Stiles. Jasper and my peace of mind definitely don’t go together.
WHAT HAPPENED TO KEEPING MY distance? That’s the question I contemplate as I climb the front steps to the triplex Jordyn Sinclair has converted into separate apartments. It’s one of those houses that is said to have good bones. It’s older, but with a solid foundation and structure that has weathered well.
She styled it up, adding wrought iron railings and balconies, trellises with vines climbing through them, and a teal blue door with a decorative brass lock that wasn’t worth shit. My take on her carelessly dismissive attitude yesterday was that she thought she was so tough as to be invincible. But something had changed between the time I left and her call last night.
“Okay, Robocop, I’m in—security cameras, a new front lock, and an alarm system. That’s it. When can you start?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Fine.” She’d hung up before I could ask her any questions. I like to have myi’sdotted and myt’scrossed before starting a job. But had I called back, or hesitated to hustle my ass over here this morning, or even wisely considered giving the assignment to another member of my staff? That would be a hardno. It’s the same impulse that had me coming over yesterday after Dee Peters told me about the so-called vandalism. It was none of my damn business, and yet, that hadn’t stopped me either.
Feeling my brows drawn together in irritation, I press the intercom button beside 1A. When she buzzes me right in, my brows snap tighter. What the hell is wrong with this woman? I storm down the hall to her apartment and bang my fist on the door.
She whips it open, loaded for bear. “What’s got your panties in a twist this time?”
I could throttle her, and what the hell is she wearing now? White Lycra booty shorts and a mint green sports bra that bares an athletically toned physique that could probably bounce a quarter. I’ve always been attracted to tall, curvy women. She’s no more than five-foot-two, compact and pure muscle, and the sight of her sends electricity zinging through me. Before I lose my focus and embarrass myself, I drag my gaze back to her eyes, shooting green daggers.
