But before Patton can answer, Bob’s nose wiggles, taking quick inhales of my black combat boots. He trails up my bare legs to the crotch of my ripped denim shorts before taking a long, shameless inhale.
“Wow. Oh, please,” I drawl. “Go right ahead. Make yourself at home.”
Patton’s lips pull into that infuriating grin that’s unlike anyone else’s, the one that’s haunted me since I was sixteen. “What can I say? Bob’s always had discerning taste, just like hisdad. Plus, remember that bit I said about him being drawn to positivity?”
I wrap my arms around my chest, drawing Patton’s eyes to my breasts, before raising a brow. “He’s also clearly a pervert,just like his dad.”
Patton shrugs, unfazed. “Can’t blame the guy for going after what he wants.” As if appreciating the encouragement, the droopy-eyed behemoth wags his tail, sniffing more fervently to find any spot on the bottom half of my body he can reach. “Besides, you can’t open the door wearing those shorts, showing off that midriff, and expect a man, or his dog, not to notice.”
Patton’s gaze follows a trail up my torso, taking in my cropped white tank top with the kind of appreciation that should annoy me. But my brain isn’t cooperating at the moment, acting no different than this dog at my crotch, desperate for every morsel of attention it can get.
And my body? It’s all too eager, swaying toward him like it’s being pulled by a magnet. When his eyes linger on my lips with an intensity that literally has me perspiring—and not because of the July heat—I stutter in a breath.
Get it the fuck together, Nisha. Remember why you left him? No? Well, let me remind you: Patton Pierce puts nothing before his aspirations, and that includes his wife.
And that’s when my brain reboots and I repeat my question, snatching the box from his hand with more force than necessary.
“Why would you get a box delivered for me at your house?” I inspect the name on the shipping label, confirming it’s mine, before realizing the seal has already been slit. “And if you knew it was mine, then why did you open it?”
I’m just prying open the flaps with one hand when Patton throws a thumb over his shoulder. “Oh, the delivery person must have just gotten the house number wrong. You know, since I live right across the street from you now.”
My hand freezes mid-rummaging, and my eyes snap to meet my husband’s—uh, ex-husband’s—earthy brown ones. “Wh–what do you mean you live across the street from me?”
Having gotten enough from my crotch and clearly not giving a shit about my body going into fight-or-flight mode, Bob makes his way over to smell the other plants on my patio.
God, please don’t let himvibewith their positivity, too.
Patton tries to mask his smirk, turning to look over his shoulder at the beautiful mid-century modern we both damn well know he’s talking about. “I mean, I moved into the house across from you yester?—”
“No.” My heart rattles inside my ribs like a caged bird, and I shake my head, cutting him off. “No, that can’t be true. I didn’t even see a moving truck or . . . or movers. How could you have . . .?” My voice shakes, getting higher with each word. “And why? Why would you move there when there are literally a million other homes in the city? Mansions, penthouses . . . castles with moats!”
You know, all the things he was working those long hours for. All the things he always wanted. More than he wanted anything or anyone else.
I look to the left and right, examining the quiet tree-lined street. “And do you know how absolutely insane it is for you to live here? You won’t have the kind of privacy and security you need. You’ll have paparazzi swarming?—”
Patton leans in, bringing with him the scent of bergamot, fresh mint, and something familiar, something uniquely and devastatingly him, and the rest of my words die on my lips.
“Breathe, Little Borealis.” His eyes peer into mine before dropping back to my lips. “I get what this looks like?—”
“What itlookslike is that my ex-husband, who is possibly the biggest star on the planet, is hell-bent on ruining my sanity byshowing up, not just to mydojanglast night, but moving into the house in front of mine.”
I don’t mention the fact that I haven’t stopped thinking about his parting words—“Either way, it’s to chase you.”They were a nod to the question I asked him that evening a year ago—why didn’t he chase me if he missed me so much?
Patton pulls his cap off his head, sliding long fingers through his disheveled dark hair before placing it back on again. I know him well enough to know he’s using the time to think about his response.
“Look, you know I’m going to be working with Troy at that old baseball field nearby. A lot of the shooting for the movie will likely be there as well, so I’ll be in town longer than I expected?—”
“How much longer?”
He shrugs again, but there’s something in his eyes. Something less nonchalant than the casual gesture he’s trying to mask it with. “Months. A year, possibly.”
“A year?!” The panic surging inside me can’t be stopped from rising to the surface. “Patton?—”
“As I was saying . . .” He tilts his head, but I don’t miss the flicker of hurt that passes over his features in response to my outburst. “I’ll be working nearby—on set most days—so I figured I’d find a place around here instead of living out of hotel rooms and trailers the entire time. When Troy told me the house across from yours was on the market?—”
“Troy told you about the house?” My mouth hangs open.
Why would Troy do that? My soon-to-be brother-in-law might be crazy about my sister, but he’s not crazy enough to meddle in anyone else’s life. Sure, I haven’t given him the details about my and Patton’s separation, but he knows enough. I’m sure my sister has filled him in, too, given she practically lived through the ordeal with me.
