The Uber stops in front of a Cape Cod style house.
It’s the most appealing shade of blue with a big oak tree in the front yard. There’s a wide wrap-around porch that runs around the entire house. Big lanterns light the garden. Even with all of those homey touches, somehow the house manages to be an ode to security and masculinity. No rounded corners anywhere. It’s precise. Knows exactly what it is. No whimsy, just classic lines and quality. My aspiring interior designer heart is already dying to know what it looks like on the inside.
Emma makes no move to leave the cab, so I nudge her. “Are you nervous or something?”
“Eh, kind of.” She sighs. “My mom and dad divorced when I was little. I was a mama’s girl. Still am. Jason—my real dad—tried so hard to make our weekend visits fun, but I cried and pouted the whole time, until they decided it was best if I just live with my mother. I always feel a little guilty when I see him.”
I pat her leg. “You were just a kid.”
“I know.” Her phone buzzes as we’re climbing out of the car, causing her to stop short on the sidewalk. “Ooh. There’s a party tonight at one of the frats. The guy I’ve been talking to is one of the hosts. We have to go.”
My stomach gurgles. “Maybe?”
Emma rolls her eyes. “Come on, Shea. Live a little.”
I might actually have to go to this party. Whatelsewould I do? Stay here and hang out with herdad?Hello, awkward. “Don’t you want to spend time with your father?”
“We will! The party isn’t until much later.” She links arms with me and drags my reluctant body up the paving stone path to the front door. After taking a deep breath, she rings the bell. “By the way, try not to be alarmed by his size. He’s not just tall,he works in construction, so he’s sort of on the brawny side. My mom calls him Paul Bunyan.”
“What do you mmm…”
The door opens to reveal a man who takes up the entire entryway. He’seasilysix foot six. Broad as a barn. Thick chested. Thighs that could hold up the roof of a Roman temples. Ink black hair threaded with gray. A weathered but quietly handsome face that needs a shave. Neck tattoos that continue all the way down his forearms, stopping at his knuckles. To top it all off, he’syoungfor a father of a college student.
Maybe this is a much older brother?
Yup. I’m staring.
I…can’t stop staring. Not only at his face, but his enormous hands.
They could rip my economics textbook in half.
“Hey, dad,” Emma says, a little hesitantly, going in for a hug. “Thanks for letting us crash for a little while. What a disaster.”
As he hugs Emma, his eyes meet mine over her shoulder and my tummy hollows.
Blue eyes. Same color as the house.
“Nothing my team can’t fix up,” Jason says, patting Emma on the back and pulling away. Though…is he still looking at me? “I do a lot of work in your area. I already put a call into your landlord. My company is going to do the repairs.”
“Really?” Emma sags in relief. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“Well, I want it done right.”
“So do we. No more falling ceilings, please!” Emma ushers me forward. “Dad, this is my roommate, Shea. She’s an interior design student, like me.” My friend hip-checks me. “We clicked, even though she’s kind of a prude.”
“No, I’m not,” I mumble, reaching out to shake his offered hand. “I’mcautious.”
“Cautious is good,” Jason rumbles, squeezing my hand. “Nice to meet you, Shea.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Ruston.”
“You can call me Jason.” Letting go of my hand with a reluctance I have to be imagining, he steps back. “Come on in. I’ve got the guest room ready.”
Good gracious, my entire arm is tingling. What is wrong with me?
I slide back into position behind Emma, but not before his eyes run down the front of my snug cotton sleep shorts. The ones I was wearing when the ceiling fell. Normally, I would never wear something so intimate out in public, but desperate times and all that.
For some reason, my body is on hyper alert, hair follicles standing on end as I follow Emma and Jason into the house.
