I Burned Down His House (Love at First Crime Book 3)

by Jessica Frances

  “Oh, shit,” I mutter, grabbing Karma’s collar and pulling her away from the closed door, which she is madly barking at.

  With her held back, I slip out quickly, shutting it before Karma can make her exit, then wincing at the scratches that will likely litter the door when I go back inside.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say to Hart, finally giving him my attention. He’s rubbing his forehead, but I see no blood, or other obvious trauma. Hopefully the worst I did was give him a little bump.

  “Interesting dog you have. I never knew you owned one,” he mutters, sounding distracted.

  “She’s not my dog,” I admit. “I’m looking after her because of what happened next door.” I nod at the burned remains of Joey’s house, trying to avoid eyeing it too closely. Guilt always rides me when I see it.

  Hart just smiles when he glances toward the ruin.

  That’s a weird reaction, right?

  “Yes, that is a shame.” He sounds anything but sorry.

  “Yeah, and an accident,” I throw in there, not wanting my neighbors to think I’m taking up arson in my spare time. “But, since I did cause it, Joey and Karma are staying with me for the time being.”

  Now Hart grimaces.

  I take my time to look him over more closely. He mentioned being in his early forties, but he has that silver fox hotness down pat. He’s a fit man, which isn’t a surprise since I often see him jogging. The best time to witness that is when he’s toward the end of his run, drenched in sweat, his clothes sticking to him, and his pale skin flushed attractively.

  He might not be my type, but I have eyes. I can appreciate a hot man when I see one.

  Hart seems like the ultimate bachelor. He drives nice cars, the outside of his house is always perfect because of the regular gardener he employs, and I have never seen him in clothes that aren’t flawless and expensive-looking. Judging from appearance alone, you would assume Hart could live in a much nicer neighborhood. I’m not sure why he stays here.

  In some ways, he is similar to Joey, in that he seems emotionally off limits. I have had many conversations with Hart since I moved across the street from him, but nothing that has ever delved deep. He always seems closed off.

  That is where the similarities between him and Joey appear to stop. While Joey has a revolving door of women, I have never seen Hart entertain one. I have seen a few men with him, but they appear stiffer and detached, like they are doing a job rather than going to his house for fun or a chat. And I don’t get a gay vibe from him. In fact, I have seen a few lust-filled gazes shift over me, which I choose to ignore.

  It is typical of my life that a man who appears like he could very well be a safe bet is one I am not interested in, albeit I could be wrong about that if Joey is investigating him. And a man who is most definitely not a safe bet and has heartbreak written all over him is the one my heart stutters over.

  “Surely, that isn’t your responsibility. His insurance company should be able to arrange for alternative accommodations.”

  “Perhaps, but I offered and he accepted.” I shrug.

  Inside, I’m questioning if that is true, and why Joey would rather stay with me than a nice hotel or have his own temporary housing. Is it just so he can keep a close eye on Hart?

  “Of course he did,” Hart mutters.

  Since I’m not sure he meant for me to hear it, or what it means, I don’t respond.

  “Is there something you need?” I ask instead, glancing around and do a double-take when I swear I see someone slinking down by Ms. Asher’s bushes. Is there a man hiding over there?

  “Yes, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ve been meaning to pop around since the fire.”

  “Oh.” I pull my attention back to Hart, noting his soft gaze full of concern. “That’s incredibly sweet of you. I’m okay.”

  “Kim isn’t causing you any issues about it? I know people. I can get you the best lawyer—”

  “No,” I quickly snap out, wondering who he’s even talking about. What is it with men calling other men by only their last names? “Joey has been sweet about it. I don’t need a lawyer, but thank you. And thank you for checking up on me.”

  He stares at me disconcertedly for a moment before giving me a smile. However, I can’t help thinking it seems like something is missing. Hart has given me plenty of warm smiles over the past few months; many times just in passing and without us saying more than a quick hello, yet I have always felt like something was missing from it. Maybe it’s just my reaction to it. Joey only has to give me a half-smile to get my heart beating fast, yet I feel nothing when Hart does it.

  “You’re welcome, Teagan. I hope you have a lovely weekend.” His smile remains through his words, his eyes travelling to my lips.

  Before I worry about him kissing me or adding more to his sentence, like asking for a date, Karma sounds like she body slams into the door.

  My head jolts to the side and I take a step away, leading back to my once beloved front door. “I should get going. Thank you for dropping by. Have a great weekend yourself.” I give him a quick wave, hoping I don’t seem too rude or skittish as I escape back inside.

  Karma bounds over to me, almost bringing me to my knees as she licks me all over.

  “What the hell has gotten into you?” I ask her, wondering if she has too much pent-up energy. Maybe she needs a longer walk?

  I could try to give her a walk today, but after a moment, she loses interest in me, racing into the living room to stare back out the front window.

  I wipe the wet spots off my exposed skin, brush off the loose hair Karma has covered me with, and look back at my front door to see plenty of scratch lines down the bottom and a few piles of drool over the floor. So, this is what happens when you have a dog in your house.

  Karma’s yap brings my attention back to her. I turn the corner to see she is wagging her tail excitedly.

  I glance out the window, trying to figure out what has her excited now, but all I see is Hart backing out of his driveway before driving down the street and out of sight.

  I glance back over to Ms. Asher’s bush, seeing no sign of anyone hiding there.

  Was I imagining things, or was someone over there? And if so, for what purpose? To watch me? To watch Hart? Or maybe to vandalize Ms. Asher’s front porch?

  I glance over at her house again, not sensing anything amiss, when a gurgling sound brings my attention back to Karma, only to see she is now licking herself.

  Gross.

  When did my life become this?

  I shake my head, moving back down the hallway and finding myself in the same position as before—in the doorway of my spare room, the room currently occupied by Joey’s things.

  I know I should just turn around and leave. I’m not his mother, and I shouldn’t invade his privacy. I wouldn’t like it if someone randomly did my laundry. Just the thought of Joey touching my underwear makes me cringe.

  I make a quick mental note to keep my comfy but granny lookalike underwear hidden deeply in my drawer, never to see the light of day until I’m on my own again. Then I walk inside the room, knowing it’s not the right thing to do.

  I might not like someone going through my things, but Jarrod always assumed I would do the cleaning. Not once did he ever do laundry.

  Joey isn’t Jarrod, but I like things in a certain order. Leaving dirty clothes around isn’t something I like, and I get the feeling Joey is so laidback that my ignoring it or doing it wouldn’t faze him either way.

  I straighten up his bedsheets, tidy up the multiple shoes thrown into a corner, and then grab his pile of dirty laundry.

  Standing up, I listen as something drops to the floor. Unsure what it is, I leave the clothes on the bed and look down to see a notepad has flopped open. It must have fallen out of his clothes, or been abandoned under the mess.

  I reach down and grab it, seeing messy writing scrawled over the open page. It’s almost illegible, but I make out the words The Glitter Fountain. It sound
s vaguely familiar, but I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s a movie or something? Then I recall seeing it on a sign attached to a building. Is it a club? A restaurant? Some sort of messy children’s daycare?

  I swear I have heard it muttered before. For the life of me, I just can’t recall the context of the conversation.

  Before I can consider grabbing my phone to google the answer, I hear Karma’s excited bark, and then the front door opening and closing.

  This propels me into action, feeling a lot like I’m about to be caught red-handed snooping when that totally wasn’t what was happening. I mean, I didn’t mean for his notepad to fall open like that, and what I read wasn’t anything invasive or important, right?

  I drop the notepad on the bedside table before quickly grabbing the pile of clothes again, carrying them out into the hallway. I don’t glance back as I make my way into the laundry room.

  I’m separating colors and trying not to worry about entering the realm of creepy as I pull out Joey’s briefs when Joey himself appears.

  “Hey,” he says as he leans against the doorway, intently watching me.

  I never knew he was a doorway leaner, but it’s rather hot having someone give you their undivided attention while also showcasing some serious bicep guns as he crosses his arms over his chest.

  “Hello.” I sound a little breathless from racing around. “Just getting in?” I ask in concern, noting the dark rings under his eyes. He looks exhausted.

  If he’s been sleeping here, then he gets home after I’m asleep and leaves before I wake up. Either way, that’s not enough sleep.

  “Yeah, been busy with work.” He sounds weary, but he still appears sharp as he keeps his attention locked on me.

  What does he see when he looks at me? What does he think of me?

  “What are you working on?” I ask, thinking back to the conversation I overheard the other day.

  “Nothing fun,” he quickly answers, not bothering to elaborate. “How has your day been?” The question seems innocent enough, but Joey’s intent gaze doesn’t match his tone.

  “Fine, just doing some laundry. You don’t mind, do you?” I think to ask, holding up one of his newer T-shirts.

  “I don’t, but I hope you don’t think I expect it.” He takes a step inside the room now, and what I once thought was a suitable space for a laundry tub, washing machine, and dryer, suddenly feels ten times too small.

  “I know.” My voice is little more than a squeak. “I just thought … I mean …” My voice peters out to nothing.

  “You in tonight?” he asks, resting his hand over my shoulder.

  His touch is warm, and I fear it is obvious my heart rate just jumped into overdrive. That beating sound is just obvious to my own ears, right?

  “I don’t have any plans,” I answer then ask myself when the last time I actually had plans was. Since my divorce, I have embraced being single and stepped away from people. Even the women I work with have been unable to entice me to have a night out. Maybe it’s time I start branching out? Take a chance?

  “Cool. I got tonight off. Was thinking, if you don’t mind, I might try to have an easy night and maybe watch a movie? You feel like joining me?” When he gives me a little squeeze, I fear I might actually dreamily float a little closer to him.

  He was the first one to take a step into my space, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t want me to suddenly wrap myself around him.

  Wait, did he ask me a question?

  “Huh?” I stupidly say, flushing when he laughs at me.

  “Want to stay in and watch a movie with me tonight?” he repeats with a grin.

  My first panicked thought is that he’s asking like this is a date, but I quickly dismiss that. He’s being polite, and technically, this is my house, so his invite is rather moot when I already said I don’t have plans.

  “Sure.”

  “Great. I’m going to catch some shut eye, but if anything happens, I want you to wake me up. Got it?”

  “If anything happens? Like what?” I ask, uneasy over the serious way he’s staring at me. Is this because of Hart coming around? Or something else?

  “You know, like any unwanted visitors, or if you get the urge to light another match.” He moves his hand from my shoulder, shifting until he’s wrapping his arm around me and pulling me into his side, laughing when I elbow his ribs.

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Actually, I think it is.”

  I shake my head, missing his touch when he pulls away and makes his way back out into the hall.

  I only just hold in a sigh, wishing I could be the type of person brave enough to take a risk on Joey, and that Joey wasn’t the type of person who was such a risk in the first place.

  I turn around and shut the door on the washer, switching it on before walking away, feeling out of sorts having someone else in my house.

  Since I left Jarrod, and ever since I lived here, I haven’t had to think about keeping quiet or planning meals. Usually, I can make as much noise as I want, and if I ever feel like taking an afternoon nap, or having quiet time to read, I don’t need to confirm this with anyone, or ever change my plans in case someone needs me to be quiet.

  Now I am tiptoeing down my hall, though I doubt Joey would hear much since I’m only wearing socks. Then I wince when the water turns on for the washing machine and the water rushes along the pipes in the walls, hoping it doesn’t annoy Joey.

  I haven’t had to consider someone else for over two years, and I’m not sure how I feel about having to consider someone now, even if it’s just for a short while, and because of a reason that is my own fault.

  I eventually make it into the kitchen and check out my food situation. It hasn’t changed since yesterday, so I guess I will need to add shopping to my list of jobs for today.

  How did my life go from the excitement of a new TV show moving to Netflix, to having my ultimate fantasy living in the same house as me and casually mentioning that we will be having a non-date night together?

  I’m not sure I’m ready for any of this, but I do know I don’t have a choice.

  ***

  Dinner ends up being easy. Joey eats everything on his plate and even goes in for seconds. Then, for the movie, we easily decide on a film we both want to watch and find ourselves engrossed by it.

  I don’t even notice when I lean in closer to Joey, and I don’t think he realizes when his arm winds up against the top of the couch behind me. We are both almost touching, but there is a small amount of space between us, making this feel more friend-like and less romantic.

  Joey has always seemed almost untouchable. I always saw him from afar and never in any sort of context that showed him as anything other than unattainable.

  He always looks hot, always has an easy smile, and the few times he spoke to me, he seemed unaffected. His job is to read people, so I’m sure he saw through me enough to know I’m not some sort of dog killer, but that appeared to be as far as his thinking toward me went.

  I, on the other hand, came up with elaborate fantasies when it came to Joey. From the exciting ones where I needed to be saved, and he was my knight in shining armor, to the downright dirty ones that were basically just a porno in my mind, starring us.

  I pictured Joey almost daily, doing something exciting, or fun, or romantic. I never imagined us both just sitting next to each other on the couch, enjoying a movie, after finishing a nice meal together.

  It isn’t exciting, it isn’t anywhere near pornographic, but it feels nice. It’s real, and there is a sense of sweetness that makes this just a little better than my imagination.

  This is real life. And, as it turns out, real life isn’t so bad. I might not get the guy in terms of a happily ever after, but I get him in a way that has the potential to be just as long-lasting.

  Now I just need to work on maintaining this feeling when Joey eventually brings around a woman, since I have been too chicken to talk about the house rules to him. Several times, I have bee
n all set to lay them out, but I clammed up and decided to wait a little longer.

  Joey drops his arm to my shoulders, jolting me out of my thoughts. I hold my breath, wondering if he’s doing this on purpose. Then he applies pressure as he pulls me against him.

  “Joey …” I begin, not sure what the hell I want to say, but before I can say another word, Karma leaps onto the couch and lands half on me, and half on the space I just vacated.

  “We usually sit on the couch together at home,” he explains, not moving his arm from around me.

  I force myself to take a breath and not think about the fact that I’m half-sprawled over him.

  “This okay?” he asks after several minutes of me silently hyperventilating.

  I nod, still unable to speak, my mind completely losing focus on the movie. Instead, I think about how comfortable this is. It isn’t exactly romantic in the sense that Joey just couldn’t keep his hands off me, or didn’t want there to be any physical distance between us, but it is nice to feel him surrounding me, to have his scent wrapped around me. It’s slightly domestic with Karma sitting with us and also comforting.

  I never had this with Jarrod. He was always busy with work. Looking back, he was probably busy carrying on his affair. When we did sit down to watch a movie together, he liked to sit on his La-Z-Boy, not exactly conducive to cuddling.

  Not only that, but Jarrod wasn’t a touchy-feely person, and because we were together for so many years, I never thought of myself as one, either. But here, in Joey’s arms, I’m changing my mind.

  When Karma lets out a loud fart, scaring herself from the noise and enveloping us in what I’m surprised isn’t an off green mist, I nearly pass out from the stink.

  “Karma!” I whine, turning to hide my face in Joey’s T-shirt while he booms with laughter against me.

  “Oh yeah, she likes to do that, too,” he manages to get out.

  “Her butt is against my couch. That smell is never leaving that spot,” I joke, a small part of me questioning if that could be true. Can a smell last that long? That horrendous fart is assuredly enough to defy the laws of possibility.