I pulled on jean shorts and a baggy black T-shirt, which I tied at the bottom so I didn’t look completely like a slob. With any luck, Jesse would’ve gone home or to the gym or to anywhere that wasn’t here.
Luck wasn’t planning to be any part of my day.
He was in the garden with Nate and Amber, my nieces splashing around in the paddling pool. A pitcher of some healthy-looking fruit drink sat on a table, and the pond puddle I’d left on the kitchen floor had been wiped up.
As much as I tried, I couldn’t not stare at Jesse. He was almost as tall as Nate, and just as broad, with lean, long muscles and a way of moving that reminded me of a big cat stalking its prey. His skin was swarthy, his hair dark, and his arms, body, and legs were peppered with tattoos in a variety of designs. He was every father’s nightmare and every good girl’s wet dream, including mine.
He'd changed out of the suit he’d been in when I’d presented myself drenched in pond-water, and was now shirtless and wearing a pair of football shorts. Short ones. Not the long, baggy ones that had been favoured a couple of seasons ago.
Every single reason why I’d made a fool of myself that night when I’d made a pass at him was on show. I turned around and headed to the fridge for a glass of white wine.
The fruit punch just wasn’t going to cut it.
“You smell better.” My brother snuck up behind me, a talent he’d been bettering since I was four and he realised I scared easily.
“I will have my revenge.” I found the bottle of pinot I was looking for.
Nate laughed. “I didn’t actually do anything! You fell in of your own accord.”
I mumbled a list of things he’d actually done, some going back two decades.
He laughed again. “Seriously, not my fault. Bring that bottle out and a glass for Jesse. I think he’ll need it.”
I put it down on the kitchen island and frowned at Nate. “What happened in court?”
“Lost his licence for six months, community service and a fine.”
I swallowed. I knew Jesse loved driving. His fleet of cars was his pride and joy and he’d said one night when we’d been babysitting the girls that if he hadn’t been a professional footballer, he’d have either been a race car driver or an engineer who worked on race cars.
“Shit.”
“I know. But it could’ve been worse, and fortunately, the press has more interesting shit to focus on right now.” Nate referred to an ongoing court case where the wife of one footballer was suing another for defamation. “How’s the book coming on? How’s the other one selling?”
I smiled. “Both are doing really well. I have to get this new one to my editor by the end of the week, but I only have one more read-through to do so I’ll be early with it.” Virtually no one knew what I was working on — steamy romance books that I was self-publishing under a pseudonym. I’d published the first a month ago, and it had done better than I’d expected for a first novel with no real followers of my own. My second would be due out in just over a month. It was a second book in the same series, and there was a little bit of buzz about it already.
That was what I wanted to do. Write. I’d told my parents I’d wanted to be an author when I was a kid and my dad had laughed and said it was a hobby and not a career. Making a living from it didn’t seem real, until I’d realised that people actually did. That was about halfway through writing my first book.
I hadn’t told my parents. I didn’t expect them to rejoice in the fact that their well-educated daughter was writing steamy romance novels that would make my mother need smelling salts should she ever read part of one. They wouldn’t understand. I just needed a few more months living off very little money while I worked out my flow, whether I could get by on a part-time job, or whether I needed to find something full-time and write around that. I didn’t want to live with Nate forever.
“How gutted is Jesse?” I tried to hide exactly how much I needed details behind a sympathetic smile.
Nate shrugged, pulling out a big bowl of salad and then putting it straight back. “Barbecue tonight, I think.” He looked back at me. “He’s gutted because of the inconvenience and implications. He’s totally reliant on other people for lifts and he’s worried he’ll have no privacy. If he employs a driver, or uses a club one, someone always knows his business.”
I let a breath go and collected two glasses for the wine, then apologised in my head to Amber for drinking when she couldn’t.
“Is Jesse staying here tonight?” Nate had plenty of spare rooms. His house was a freaking mansion.
“Yep. Which I’m glad about. He had a load of summer plans made but they’ve all been scuppered. Don’t speed, kids. Spoils your holidays in the south of France.” He popped open a beer. “Come sit with us. Promise I won’t call you Swamp Monster.”
I rolled my eyes. He was going to do exactly that.
Within the first five minutes of sitting down outside, Nate had called meSwamp Monster, Swampy,andthe Monster that Lives in the Swamp.I tried to not laugh, but it was impossible. I was just glad that no one had taken a photo.
“You didn’t take a photo, did you?” I looked at my brother.
He grinned. “I’ll tell you when you give me those photos you found.”
“Not worth it.” Nate would have a stag do coming up in the next twelve months — my guess was he was going to propose to Amber soon — and I was sure that whomever he chose as his best man would really appreciate them.
