“Be that as it may, we don’t need cameras with my son around. He keeps an eye on things,” she insists, touting her son’s merits. “There haven’t been any incidents since the broken window. I think that says it all.”
I size up Freddy: late twenties to early thirties, five-ten, slight build, head and gray eyes downcast, as if he’s not the topic of discussion. Describing them as odd is an understatement, but they both need to be set straight.
“I don’t know anything about your son’s credentials, but his job here is not security—mine is. And Ms. Sinclair is following my recommendations.”
“You are a very disagreeable person.” Her tone sours, while Freddy seems to retreat further inside his hood. “An opportunist who must have frightened that dear girl living all on her own into this overpriced nonsense. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Jordyn Sinclair,a dear, frightened girl…have they met? Speaking of said woman, she’s back from the gym. I watch her come through her patio doors and step on the terrace, carrying a large paper cup. At least she’s pulled a T-shirt over that nothing-of-an-outfit. Her auburn hair has a slight kink to it, and her fair skin has a rosy post-workout glow.
I rein in my own visceral reaction to pay close attention to Freddy’s. He shifts anxiously in the grass and glances up for the first time, his gaze skittering over her. When those hazel-green eyes catch him, he quickly looks back down.
“Miss Carol, is everything all right?” she asks.
“No, Hun, it’s not.” Laying her offense on thick, she goes from Mama Bear to sweet grandmother. “I’m concerned that this rude and dreadful young man has taken advantage of you with all this security.”
“Mr. Stiles can be gruff and stingy with emotion, but he’s not dreadful, nor can I be taken advantage of without my permission.” She slyly winks at me. “I know this seems like a lot, but it’s really just a few cameras and a new lock.”
“But Hun, Freddy can keep looking out for you the same way he’s been doing.”
“Freddy has been very helpful,” she agrees. “I appreciate that so much, but he can’t be on the lookout twenty-four-seven. Besides, Freddy will be leaving once he has a job, right?”
“That may be, but in the meantime—”
“We’ll have this added security as a bonus,” Jordyn Sinclair politely interjects. “I think it will make all of us feel a bit safer.” Then she adds, “You look a little flushed, Miss Carol. Why don’t you get out of this heat? Freddy must be boiling up too.”
Effectively dismissed, a displeased Miss Carol leaves with her son shuffling behind her.
I might have applauded Jordyn Sinclair for her surprising diplomacy, but…
“You shouldn’t encourage them.”
“Excuse me?” she balks. “I came out here to find my tenant upset. I think I did a great job of defusing the situation.”
She’s right, but I’m not willing to budge an inch. “Freddy might seem like a shy, introverted mama’s boy, but I saw the way he looked at you—with interest.”
“You’re imagining that. He does give off creepy vibes in that hoodie, but he’s never come on to me or said or done anything to indicate interest.”
“That proves nothing. He could still harbor an obsession.”
“I doubt that.” She rolls her eyes upward. “But even if it’s true, why would he slash my tires and break my window?”
“To get your attention by hatching this plan to cause damage, then swoop in to guard you and the premises.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“And his mother’s probably in on it or protecting him.”
“Oh, my God. You’ve been out in the sun for too long.”
“Think about it.” I hold her gaze beneath the bill of my cap. “Why else would she be so upset about the cameras?”
“Because she’s a Nervous Nelly who worries about everything.”
“Including cameras catching her son in the act.”
“Come on, Jasper.”
Damn. Why do I love the way she says my name with that bluesy rasp of a voice?
