Her voice quivered at the end of that sentence. So…she wasn’t as nonchalant about the situation as she wanted him to think.
“I’m going to call the Realtor and explain that it was my fault, because I got injured and you missed the meeting. They shouldn’t play games like this. We did everything she wanted. We were totally straight up with her.”
“Josh.” She whirled on him. “We lied to her. We pretended we were engaged, remember?”
“But—you were engaged.”
“Not to you!”
The fierceness of her tone shut him up right away. She sniffed, as if holding back tears, then brushed past him and fled into her bedroom, the door clicking shut behind her. The forbidden zone.
He felt like crap. First he made her lose her dream house, then he made her so upset she might be crying behind that closed door. And there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t get her house back. Or her family. Was there anything he could do for her?
“Hey, I’ll give you Park Place for free,” he called through the crack. “That would give you three monopolies.”
He was pretty sure he heard her laugh.
.
18
If Suzanne had known that hosting Josh was going to bring a constant stream of firefighters through her door…well, she might have done it even sooner. Whenever the Jupiter Point Hotshots were in town, at least one of them came to visit Josh. Most often it was Rollo. He helped Josh with his exercises. Then he and Josh—still on crutches—would walk the half-mile from her condo into the historic downtown area and wreak havoc on all the local businesses.
The good kind of havoc—shopping.
Josh stocked up on reading material at Fifth Book from the Sun. Rollo bought rounds of coffee for the old geezers who hung out at the Milky Way Ice Cream Parlor. They brought her take-out from Don Pedro’s and the new sushi place that had just opened. She got used to having the big, bearded Rollo around; he was the kind of guy whose sheer size might be intimidating except that his eyes were so kind.
One afternoon, she came back to find them scanning through video on Josh’s laptop and laughing their asses off.
“What are we watching?” she asked as she dropped next to Josh on the couch, nudging him over with her hip. She ignored the goose bumps that rose on her arm from that simple contact. She’d been trying really hard to keep things simple with Josh. Just because she was wildly attracted to him didn’t mean they should get involved.
Even though she thought about it nonstop.
“Marsh has all this crazy video from the fires we’ve worked. He has some awesome shit in here.”
“They let you take a camera with you?”
“It’s easy with an iPhone. I have about ten battery packs I take with me.” Josh spoke absently, totally focused on the laptop screen. “This was from Big Canyon. Day before the burnover. Remember that, Rollo?”
Suzanne watched a strange-looking green truck roll into view. It had a boxy shape, almost like a big ice cream truck. A man rolled down a window and stuck his head out like a wild man, eyes manic, mouth fixed in a scream. If not for his crazy expression, he’d be extremely good-looking, like an Italian prince.
“Who’s that?”
“Finn. He’s in LA now.”
Neither hotshot seemed to want to say more about Finn. The shot switched to Josh, who was holding the camera on himself while pretending his own glove was attacking him. It was hilarious to watch, and in the background firefighters were howling with laughter.
“Always joking around.” She elbowed Josh in the ribs. “Why am I not surprised?”
Rollo was wiping tears from his eyes. “You’d better get your ass back to work soon, Marsh. Things are getting too serious.”
Josh grinned. “Maybe I’ll come out and harass you guys soon.”
“Yeah, baby.”
But now that Josh was living on her couch, Suzanne knew that he didn’t joke all the time. Sometimes he had nightmares. She tiptoed into the living room one night and caught him thrashing on the couch, muttering words like, “stop,” and clamping his hands over his ears.
In the morning, when she asked what he’d been dreaming about, he told her it was the burnover.
“You dream about it a lot?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes. Not too often.”
“I heard you say ‘stop.’ Were you telling the fire to stop?” She smiled, expecting him to joke about it, but he just looked uncomfortable and changed the subject.
He did the same thing whenever she asked about his parents and their nutso divorce. He did not want to talk about it. His brothers called every couple of days but he kept those conversations short too. Yup, she was definitely seeing layers of Josh Marshall that she never would have if he hadn’t been crashing on her couch.
None of them made her less attracted to him. The more time she spent with Josh, the more she liked him. She liked the way he played so patiently with Snowball. She liked the way she sometimes caught him scowling at his laptop in concentration. She liked the way he teased her, the way he listened to her.
The way he looked at her with raw appreciation.
But he didn’t kiss her again. He didn’t touch her beyond a friendly hand on her arm as she reached for the dice in Monopoly. It was driving her crazy. She hadn’t forgotten one second of how it had felt to be pressed against him, with his big hands driving her to orgasm. She still remembered how his body had felt, the way his voice had sounded as he’d urged her to come. Even the way he’d smelled—a little smoke, a little antiseptic, a little sweaty.
How could she break through the “friend” barrier between them? Should she break through it? Or was that just asking for trouble?
Sweaty, manly men were not her type. She liked sophisticated, ambitious men who wore suits to work and used sculpting product in their hair. Men who were serious about their futures. Josh wasn’t that kind at all. He wasn’t a stick-to-it type of guy. And honestly, she completely understood why not. Now that she’d seen his parents in action, she didn’t blame him one bit for wanting to avoid marriage.
She was lucky; she saw the bright side of marriage all the time in the starry-eyed newlyweds who came through her door. Even though her parents had skipped the country, they still loved each other. She believed in marriage, although she had to question her “logical” approach to it, given the fiasco with Logan.
But Josh…Josh seemed to see marriage as something to avoid, like a hot stove or measles. She wasn’t naive enough to think she could change that. So as much as she wanted him, as much as she yearned to go out there and straddle him, ride that perfect ripped body until he screamed for mercy…
She knew better. If only she could convince her impractical side. The rebellious, fun-craving, reckless side that wanted one man only: Josh.
About two weeks after she learned that she’d lost Casa di Stella, Suzanne came home to find her condo empty. Josh must have taken Snowball for a walk; he claimed it was part of his rehab. She’d been in a terrible mood all day—restless, antsy, irritable. She’d even snapped at a honeymoon couple, causing the new bride to burst into tears.
She knew exactly what the problem was. The problem was six feet tall and sexy as sin. The problem had sun-streaked hair he liked to push back from his face, gray eyes, a playful grin, and no interest in putting his hands on her.
Damn him.
When someone knocked on the door, she figured it was Josh, forgetting his key again. But when she opened the door, she saw the last person she expected—or wanted—to see. “Logan?”
He gave her a smile, which she didn’t return. She was too much in shock. In his open-collared shirt and dark trousers, he looked…smooth. That was the best way she could put it. Maybe her eyes were too used to Josh now. She wanted to tousle Logan’s hair, maybe force him to grow a little more stubble on his chin. Lose that smug, cocky smile. Allow his clothes to wrinkle once in a while.
“Can I come in?”
She shook herself
out of her paralysis. No, she really wasn’t ready for him to come inside. “Um…what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to tell you I finished my finals. And I got a job.”
“Congratulations. That’s great.” Still she didn’t open the door any farther than a crack.
“And I have a surprise for you. I really think you’re going to like it, so why don’t you just let me in? Jesus, Suzanne.”
“Sorry. Sure, come on in.” Forcing a more gracious expression onto her face, she opened the door for him. He breezed in, all smiles again. Logan always felt entitled to whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it.
That was the key to his whole character, she realized suddenly.
“Is someone staying here?” He surveyed the living room, which was littered with evidence of Josh. His laptop sat open on the coffee table, a copy of the Mercury News-Gazette lay scattered in sections, some on the floor, some on the table.
“Yeah, it’s…a friend of Evie’s fiancé. One of the hotshots broke his leg during a fire and he needed a place to stay.”
Ugh, why did she sound so defensive? She and Logan were through, she didn’t have to explain anything to him.
“You didn’t fly all the way here from Palo Alto to tell me you got a job, did you?”
“No.” A look of barely suppressed triumph simmered in his eyes. “I said I have a surprise for you.” He held up a manila envelope. “You’re going to love me for this. I mean, I think you already love me. I believe that. We were good together and I know I messed it up. I’m here to make up for all that.”
“Logan—”
“No, listen. As soon as I got that last exam out of the way, it was like a weight lifted off me. As if a house had landed on me and now it’s gone.”
He looked at her expectantly, as if she ought to know what he was talking about.
“Well, I’m glad you got through your exams okay. But there’s more to it than that.”
He groaned. “Please don’t mention the free pass again. We talked that shit to death already. I’m ready to move on. You will be too when you see this.”
He teased open the flap of the envelope. She stopped him with a hand on his, then snatched it away. She didn’t want to touch him.
“Logan, you really shouldn’t be here. Our relationship wasn’t right, I can see that now. I’m sorry I didn’t see it earlier, but I definitely see it now. It wasn’t based on anything real and lasting. It was based on…I don’t know. Mutual self-interest, I suppose.”
He cocked his head with a puzzled frown. “Of course it was. That’s why it worked. There’s nothing wrong with mutual self-interest. Everything is about mutual self-interest. You find me the lowest scum of the earth, and I can make a deal with him once I know what he wants. Mutual self-interest makes the whole world go around. It’s just the way it is. Face the facts, babe.”
Her face twisted in revulsion. His point of view sounded so logical, and maybe she’d believed the same thing when they’d gotten engaged. And yet it didn’t feel right anymore. It didn’t cover everything.
For one thing, it didn’t take love into account.
“Some people say that love makes the world go around.”
“People say all kinds of things. Are you willing to risk your future on something you can’t touch or see or…live in?” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.
“What are you talking about?”
“Take it.” He handed her the manila envelope. The weight of it felt ominous in her hand. “Open it,” he told her.
Carefully, she pried open the flap and peeked at the documents inside. On top was a title of ownership.
The property in question—Casa di Stella.
The buyer: Logan Rossi.
“I got my dad to pony up for the down payment,” he said smugly. “Kind of a graduation gift.”
She was still staring at the evidence before her. “You made the other offer. You’re the reason she didn’t reschedule my signing.”
“Yes, isn’t it awesome?”
“You own my house now.”
“See, that’s the beauty of it. Once we get our wedding back on track, you’ll own it too.”
For a moment, the future shimmered before her just as she’d planned it. Married to Logan Rossi and living in Casa di Stella.
Then he kept talking. “I looked at the pictures of it on Zillow. I have a plan to turn it into vacation rentals. We can make bank.”
Vacation rentals? She shuddered. Logan didn’t understand anything about what made the house so special. “Why didn’t you just let me buy it? Why’d you have to get in the middle of it?”
“It’s a gesture, Suz.” He gave her an annoyed frown. “A romantic fucking gesture.”
A romantic gesture…was it? She shook her head, trying to make sense of this. She’d get the house, but only if they got married. Wasn’t that more like bribery? “If it was really romantic, you would have put it in my name.”
“Yeah, right.” He snorted. “Nice try. Not until we’re married.”
She stared at him, speechless for a long moment. Was she crazy, or was he? “Sell it to me, then. That’ll prove you’re being romantic.”
His face darkened. “I don’t like your attitude. I was trying to do a nice thing for you. You act like I did something wrong by shelling out a hundred thousand dollars.”
“You mean asking your daddy for it.”
“You didn’t used to have a problem with my family’s money.”
“Well, I still don’t. The money isn’t the problem. You’re the problem.”
“Because I bought you a house?”
“You keep saying you bought it for me, but in case you’re wondering, I hate the idea of vacation rentals. That’s the opposite of what that house is supposed to be. It should be a home, someplace where people are happy together. An oasis in a world of crap. A place to come home to where everything is calm and safe and beautiful and…” Her breath caught in something close to a sob. Sure, it was a fantasy. But it was her fantasy.
“Are you hormonal, babe? You’re crying when you should be kissing my ass.”
“Are you going to sell me the house?” she demanded.
“Not unless you start acting a lot nicer to me.”
And that was it. Suddenly she couldn’t bear to have him in her house another second. “Just get out. Forget the house. I don’t want it anymore.”
“Babe. Babe, come on.”
“You heard me! Go! Get out!” She manhandled him across the living room. The door opened before they reached it, and Snowball bounded inside. Josh appeared right behind her, a messenger bag slung over his chest.
“What’s going on?” His slate-gray eyes scanned the two of them. Even on crutches, his muscular physique and alertness made an impact, especially on Logan, who took a quick step away from Josh. “We heard yelling.”
“I bought her a house and this is what I get for it.” Logan ducked past Josh and stormed down the sidewalk. “Forget about trying to buy it from me. If you want to stay in it, you can rent it like anyone else.”
Fighting tears, she dragged her gaze to meet Josh’s. His expression mirrored exactly what she felt inside—disgust, fury, incredulity. “Was he talking about Casa di Stella?”
Unable to speak, the breath catching in her throat, she nodded.
Not long ago, marriage to Logan and Casa di Stella were the sum total of her dreams.
Now both were gone.
19
Josh stepped carefully over the threshold, following in Suzanne’s wake. He took off the messenger bag Evie had given him at the gallery and set it on the coffee table. This wasn’t the right time to give Suzanne the gift he’d gotten her. She could have been a walking storm front. Emotions poured off of her.
He settled on something neutral.
“Want a beer?”
Then he winced at how cavalier that sounded. Hey, you just lost your dream house to your weasel fiancé—want a beer?
But luckily, Su
zanne wasn’t the kind of girl to take offense at something like that. “Yeah, I could probably use a beer right about now. But I’ll get it. You’re on cru—”
He threw up a hand. “I got it. The day a guy can’t walk on crutches and get a beer out of the fridge is the day he turns in his man card.”
Humor lit her deep blue eyes. “Someday I hope I get to see this mythical man card I’ve heard about.” She flung herself onto the couch. Josh gave a quick glance to make sure he’d left it in an acceptable state. Not too bad, although he’d left his laptop on the coffee table. He stumped to the kitchen and snagged a longneck bottle, which he held between his index and middle fingers as he crutched back to the living room. He handed it to her, which earned him a questioning glance.
“Nothing for you?”
“I still occasionally pop a pain pill at night. Not a good mix.”
She put down the bottle. “Never mind, then. I have a rule against drinking alone. I might end up sloshed and sobbing my heart out, and no one wants to see that.”
“Honey, this is your place. You do what you need to do. I’ll stand guard. I’ll be your designated…not driver. Something else.”
“Designated keeper-from-making-a-fool-out-of-myself? Keeper for short?”
He snorted and lowered himself onto the couch next to her. “I’m no one’s keeper. Can’t barely keep myself.” With both hands, he lifted his cast onto the coffee table to rest.
“That makes both of us.” She twisted her long hair into a rope, which she settled over one shoulder. The soft, lustrous strands slid across her skin, too slippery to stay put. “What did I ever see in him?”
“It wasn’t love?”
“No.” She answered quickly, like an exclamation point. “Definitely not that. Unless you call mutual self-interest love.”
“If you’re asking for a definition of love, you’re asking the wrong guy. Are you okay?” He brushed her cheek with his knuckle.
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