Angie carried plates containing only the crumbs of Melanie’s incredible cake—which was shaped to look exactly like the blue Esky that had been keeping their drinks cold all afternoon. Feeling full from all the decadent treats, she was looking forward to going home and putting her feet up.
“What are you up to now?” Trent asked as they walked into the house together.
“Well, I’m going to explode from everything I’ve eaten,” she replied. “Jace will have to take me home so I can sleep it off.”
The innocent statement caused a spark in her imagination—sweaty bodies and clothes floating to the floor. She almost choked on the spot but covered it by clearing her throat. One kiss and she was acting like they were going to jump straight into bed.
“You can’t go home—it’s only six. You should come to the house party with me.” Trent took the dishes from her hands and stacked them into the sink. “It’ll be fun.”
“I think I’m fresh out of fun.”
“No way. You practically run on the stuff; I can see that in your smile.” He leaned against the breakfast bar, standing close to her in a way that should have had her heart racing. But all she could think about was Jace.
He stood outside, and she tried to catch his eye through the open double sliding doors. But he seemed to be studiously avoiding her. He’d been quiet ever since he deposited the freshly washed Truffle into the backyard to dry off. Was he regretting their kiss? How could he go from holding her one minute like she was the only woman on earth to not being able to even look at her the next?
What if this is another family competition thing? Oh my God.
She must be wrong. Jace wouldn’t do something like that, would he? She was in full panic mode now. This happened anytime something felt good and right, because she’d been trained to assume those feelings would never last long.
“Well…”
“Come on.” Trent grinned. “It’s always a blast. The Fisher family hosts every year, and they have this huge house with the most amazing view of the ocean from the back deck. You’d love it.”
I don’t think I would. Not tonight.
“You could come as my date,” he suggested with a charming smile.
This was what she’d been wanting—a cute guy who could be everything. A guy who came from a good family, who had a good heart, an amazing sense of humor. Trent was the whole package. So why did her heart feel as though it was throwing up big, fat no signals?
You don’t want him.
The second she thought those words, she knew it for certain in her gut—she should want to go with him, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She wasn’t attracted to Trent, not even a little bit. Because nobody made her feel like Jace did. And she was sure now that no matter how much “research” she did, no matter how many guys she investigated…there was only one Jace.
At that moment, Jace looked up from his phone and walked over. “Hey, what’s up?”
“I’m trying to convince Angie to come to the party with me.” Trent melodramatically clutched at his chest. “But she’s dragging her heels and breaking my heart.”
Jace’s expression didn’t reveal much. “You asked her out on a date?”
“Yeah, why the hell not?” He was so unashamed and unabashed that she had to laugh. Perhaps growing up the youngest of the four boys had given him the balls to take what he wanted instead of waiting for it to come to him.
“We’re at a family function,” Jace said, shaking his head.
“I asked her on a date. Not to join me for a drunken orgy at a sex dungeon, Jace.” Trent looked at his brother strangely. Did he suspect anything?
The air in the kitchen was now thick with tension. So thick, Angie was sure the cake knife wouldn’t even be able to make it all the way through. Jace’s blue gaze caught hers, and he was stock-still as if waiting for her response. Oh God, what was the right thing to do? Go with Trent so Jace didn’t think she was chasing him and then quietly feign a headache and slink back home by herself? Or go home with Jace and hope he wasn’t regretting everything and that he wanted to pick up where they left off?
Now would be an amazing time for Jace to give her some kind of clue as to what he wanted.
“I, uh…” She swung her head back and forth between the two men—who looked so alike with their sandy hair and oceanic eyes but who couldn’t be more different in personality.
“Anyway, I’m going.” Jace held up a hand in a kind of non-wave and headed out toward the front door, but not before Angie saw the hurt flashing in his eyes. Crap. “Are you coming home, Angie, or are you heading off with Trent?”
“I’m coming home,” she said, the air rushing out of her lungs. She gave Trent a quick, platonic hug. “Thank you for the sweet offer, but I’m seriously so ready for a night on the couch.”
“No worries.” He bobbed his head, a confused expression on his face. “Next time.”
“Sure, absolutely. One hundred percent.” She bounded out of the kitchen and said goodbye to Jace’s parents, thanking them for including her in their family festivities.
Out the front, Jace was waiting for her. The dogs were ahead of him, Tilly and a very pretty pastel-pink Truffle. For a few heartbeats, they walked in silence, as though neither one of them knew how to start.
“I wasn’t going to say yes,” she said eventually.
“I thought he was on your list?”
“Maybe he was…I don’t know.” Except she did know. “He’s not anymore. That I know for sure.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’d be a terrible match.” They were halfway down the street now, and Jace was barely looking at her. But he was still talking, so that was a good sign…right?
“Because he’s not a seventy-year-old model-train builder?” She attempted to make a joke, but it fell flat.
“I know him better than most people do, and you won’t be long-term for him.”
“You don’t think he’d see me as a long-term option?” She looked at the ground as they walked, mustering a half-hearted smile for Truffle, who turned back to look at her as he trotted—oblivious of Jace’s hurt and Angie’s mental anguish and the fact that he looked like a My Little Pony reject.
“Look, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but you won’t hold his attention. Nobody does. It’s not how he operates.”
“So I’m not good enough to be that special someone.” She swallowed, her gaze trained on her feet.
“You are special, Angie. You’ll find the right guy one day, but right now…” He looked at her briefly, and it was like being lanced through the heart. “I think you’re playing a losing game.”
Why, for once in her damn life, couldn’t things go the way she wanted them to? Why had she kissed Jace this afternoon? If she hadn’t, then she’d probably be going up to the house party with Trent now, blissfully unaware that her sexier-than-sin landlord and the object of her most ill-advised crush thought she was a giant dumb-ass.
Except you know it wouldn’t have gone anywhere, even if you did go to the party. You know it in your gut.
“I guess some people aren’t meant to be winners.”
“Who’s going to win in this situation?” Jace sighed and raked his free hand through his hair. “You’re looking for someone who’s going to fall head over heels for you and then sign on the dotted line in what…five weeks?”
“Six,” she whispered.
“Do you have any idea how unrealistic that sounds?”
She did. Of course she did—the whole batshit plan was denial hiding out in a new form. When she’d listened to Jean talk about her husband, she’d believed…hell, for a moment there she really had believed in miracles.
“Do you really watch those movies and think it could happen?” Jace asked. “Hollywood isn’t selling the truth, because people are messy and relationships stumble and not everythin
g works out in the end.”
“Wow, I didn’t know you were so cynical. I’d always assumed artists were dreamers.”
Jace’s jaw tightened. “I don’t fit any of my labels neatly. I thought that was obvious.”
She did. Heck, it was one of the things she liked most about him. He was a bit left of center, a bit out of step. Just like her.
“Is it really so bad to think that someone might fall in love with me?” Her voice wobbled. “Or am I the one who’s lost my grip on reality, because I’ve been hoping for that very thing ever since I was a little girl? That someone, somewhere might want me.”
Jace stayed silent. It was like she’d taken a knife and cut her chest open in front of him, and he’d suddenly turned into stone.
“You know, one of my foster mothers told me once that she thought my life would be easier if I smiled more. So I smiled. I smiled at every goddamn person who came my way, and I kept smiling when she took the money that was supposed to feed and clothe me and spent it getting high. I smiled through my fear when I tried to report her and her husband to Child Protective Services for chaining me up next to their dog to teach me a lesson for complaining that I was hungry. And I smiled through my tears when they sent me back there anyway because there was no proof.” Her lip trembled. “And I’m still here, and I’m still trying to smile…trying to believe there’s good in the world and that I might end up somewhere beautiful and calm.”
“God, Angie.” When Jace looked at her, he had that look. The look that stopped her from telling people her story, because it was so brimming with pity it made her want to put a fist through a wall. “How did you get through that?”
“I kept hoping.”
She was a survivor, at least that’s what all the papers had said. She’d become the face of child neglect, after someone at Child Protective Services grew a conscience and decided to drop in after her report didn’t go anywhere. They’d found her skinny and half-starved, with a chain thicker than her arm holding her captive, her face covered in so much grime, her tears left tracks in the filth. The picture she’d taken had been leaked, and Angie had spent every day since with the past around her neck. Squeezing. Ever-present.
“So yeah, my plan might be crazy but…a long shot is all I’ve got.” Shame burned through her like wildfire. “Because I’m desperate, and I know the smell of it drives people away. So I try to be happy Angie, kooky Angie with her zany plans to make this town a better place. I stand up and I speak up and I keep trying because it’s all I have in my control.”
The house was in front of them now. She hadn’t even realized they’d made it so far—she was lost in her own head and the soothing slap-slap rhythm of their steps and watching Truffle’s pink furry butt.
“I don’t expect you to understand, Jace. I’m sorry I kissed you… I felt…” What? Like the one guy who actually got her heart thumping and her pulse racing might be the one for her? Like they were both a shade different than the norm, and yet they fit together. “I felt something, and I thought you might have felt it, too.”
She looked at him, searching his face for confirmation that she wasn’t the only one putting herself out there. Her breath halted while she waited for him to say something—anything. To lean in and kiss her again.
But Jace was as immovable and strong as an old gum tree, stoic. Unreadable. Sharing nothing.
Shaking her head, she jogged toward the side of the house, slipping out of sight and down the path toward the little unit she wouldn’t be able to call home in a few short weeks. Her vision blurred, making it tough to see the lock, and she fumbled with her key.
Metal scratched over metal as she frantically tried to let herself inside so she could hide from the world. And start to make plans for the fact that life as she knew it was coming to an end.
Because one thing was for sure, her plan was officially obliterated, and she was going to have to not only leave the town she’d come to love but Jace, too.
…
Jace watched Angie bolt, his heart heavy and his mind mushy like scrambled eggs. Truffle and Tilly stood still for a moment, clearly confused by Angie’s sudden departure, but Tilly looked back over her shoulder, her dark eyes narrowed as if she knew exactly how much of a jerk Jace had been.
He was the king of jerks. His royal highness of Jerkington Kingdom.
“I screwed up,” he said to no one in particular.
Tilly made a snorting noise as if to say, You sure did.
He’d taken Angie’s bubbly, yellow-balloon optimism and aimed a big, pointy needle at it. And why? Not even for anything as noble as keeping her best interests at heart or being honest that she and Trent would be a giant disaster—even though that was what he thought. There was his bluntness ruining everything again. His inability to read the room and lack of verbal filter making other people feel bad. He’d poured salt on the wounds made by her past.
Ass. Hole.
Worse, he didn’t even know how to make it better. An apology wouldn’t be enough. But what else was he supposed to do? Bring flowers? Chocolates? Or was that old-fashioned?
He led the dogs into the house and paced around his kitchen until he was sure he would wear a hole in the floor. This was why he wrote about a character who lived on his own—because solitary life was simple. He could have his surfing time, his working time, his relaxation time all uninterrupted. He could cruise through each day knowing exactly what he was going to get done and setting his goals with no one in mind but himself.
It was perfectly uncomplicated.
But the thought of it now felt hollow. Some of the best times he’d had in the past few weeks were doing things with Angie, Tilly, and Truffle—the beach party, fish and chips in the back of his car. Even “researching” Theo had been entertaining.
What would his life be like when Angie left and Eugenie came back to pick up the dogs?
Tilly whined and scratched at the back door, her big paws having already created some grooves in the wood. “You want to go out, girl?”
He flicked the lock on the door and let it swing open. She immediately bounded across the yard and went straight to Angie’s door, whining and scratching. It wasn’t possible she knew they were fighting…was it?
“Tilly!” He clapped his hands together, but the dog ignored him. Jace strode out into the yard, shaking his head. “Stop that now!”
Before he could make it all the way over, Angie’s door swung open, and she tensed up at the sight of the big dog standing on her doorstep. His heart twisted in his chest, because now he knew why she reacted that way.
But Tilly nuzzled her head straight into Angie’s palm, making a soft crying noise as if offering her version of canine sympathy. Angie’s eyes were red and watery—and somehow, even crying, she was the most beautiful woman Jace had ever seen.
Yeah, she was sailing on a hope and a prayer…and what she needed was a friend to fill her sails. Not deflate them.
“I don’t know what she’s looking for,” Angie said, obliging the dog by scratching behind her ear.
“I’m pretty sure she’s here in female solidarity.” Jace jammed his hands into his pockets. “She was looking at me like I’d kicked a puppy.”
Despite her tears, Angie laughed. “Glad to know I’ve got someone on my side.”
“I am on your side.” He took a step forward, and when she didn’t retreat, he took another. “My practical nature gets the best of me sometimes, and when you pair that with a big mouth and a missing mental filter…”
Angie leaned against the door, watching him. Her gaze was so intense, he seemed to want to look anywhere but directly at her—hey, was that a crack in the frame above her head?
Focus. And don’t screw this up. Not again.
He wanted to make amends, but he didn’t have any flowers or chocolates in his house. He didn’t know how to do the grand gesture thing, like t
hey did in those movies she loved to watch.
Think, dammit. What else have you got?
Angie was still observing him, her hair kinked from when it had air-dried in the sun after the water gun fight. Having her watch him made it harder for his brain to work. It felt like an old machine that was turned on for the first time…sluggish and dusty.
Dusty! He was sure there was a bottle of gin back in the house. Jace wasn’t much of a spirits drinker, as he had his preferred brand of beer and never deviated, but someone had given him a bottle once. People in movies had drinks. Maybe that would work?
“So…uh. I have gin,” he said. It wasn’t the best start to an invitation, but usually he liked to rehearse these kind of things and now he was totally winging it, flying out of his comfort zone like a paraglider over a volcano. “It’s a bit dusty, though.”
She raised a brow. “The gin is dusty?”
“Well, the bottle is dusty. I assume they seal them well enough to keep the dust on the outside.” Holy awkwardness, Batman! “I’m sure it’s fine to drink.”
He chanced a quick glance at her, and her expression shifted, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it meant. Angie’s face was like looking at the sky sometimes—a person better at reading people than him would have been able to identify her feelings like watching shapes in clouds as they blew by.
“Okay.” She stretched the word out like toffee. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I thought maybe we should drink it.” He cleared his throat. “Together.”
“And why would we do that?”
Jace let out a long breath. He’d been hoping the invite might be enough, but… This was one of those times where he needed to push past the things that made him uncomfortable, for the other person. Like he did with his family sometimes, because he cared about them.
And you care about Angie?
He looked up, meeting her eyes and watching the change in her face. Watching the pink come to her cheeks and the blacks in her eyes grow a little wider. God, she was beautiful.
The Aussie Next Door Page 16
