by Jami Wagner
I’m about to take the first set of stairs when a pair of men’s boxer briefs hit the top of my box. My head jerks back and I scrunch my nose. Setting the box down, I look up only to be hit in the face with more clothes.
“Asshole!” a woman screams as shirts and pants drop from above.
“Liar!”
More clothes.
“Cheater!”
Shit, basket.
I jump to the side and then shake off the underwear from my box.
“Looks like someone is having a tough day,” a voice says next to me.
I pull my attention from the woman and find myself looking at the side profile of a very
attractive man with the most defined jaw I’ve ever seen. His scruff is shaved perfectly to display his features, and it looks really good on him.
Like really good. Maybe too good.
“Appears that way,” I say just as a white T-shirt covers my face.
“What do you think happened?” he asks.
“Well,” I say, shrugging off the shirt and propping the box on my hip. “She did call out the word cheater, so I’m going to go with ‘someone cheated’ for five hundred, please.”
A deep chuckle erupts from his throat, and I feel it all the way to my toes.
I twist at the same time he does and take notice of the slightly shaggy jet-black hair that peeks out from under a red ball cap, and this guy’s radiant white smile makes my lips itch to grin back. A pair of ocean-blue eyes meet my own gaze immediately. Not just any ocean blue, but off-the-coast-of-Mexico blue. Almost as if you were to look at them at the perfect angle, they would be clear. So I’ve seen in pictures, anyway. I was supposed to go to Mexico after high school graduation and finally see the ocean for the first time, but that never happened. Instead, Sam became my life.
“I’m Jett,” he says and offers me his hand. His head tilts and his eyes narrow as they hold steady with mine. “Have we met before?”
I shake my head. “No.”
A slow smile touches his lips. “No, I suppose not. I’d think I’d remember someone like you.”
Wow. Cue instant blush.
The door near the mad woman slams, pulling his attention. I take this time to let my gaze rake over his body. He’s got a solid build and is probably a good three inches on my own five-foot-six. Any smaller T-shirt and his biceps would definitely rip those sleeves up. I’ve always read about these types of muscular men before, but this is probably the first time I’ve actually seen and understood it. I mean, yeah, how creeped out would he be if I just reach out and touch him?
“That lady is crazy pissed off,” Sam says behind me.
“Hey, some opinions should be thought and not spoken,” I say to him. At least not spoken in front of people we don’t know.
“Yeah, but she started it when she shouted asshole from—”
“Sam!”
“What?”
“This one with you?” Jett asks. The fact he is entertained by Sam is evident in his laughter.
“Yes, this is Sam,” I say.
“Hi,” Sam says and shakes his hand.
“And you are?” Jett asks, his attention moving from my nephew to me. “I don’t think you had time to tell me before the crazy pissed lady disappeared.”
“See, everyone thinks she’s—” I pull Sam to my side and cover his mouth with my hand as I look at Jett. “I’m Charlie.”
Jett points to the U-Haul. “You two just move here?”
“Yeah, well, moved back anyway. We’ve been living in Arizona.”
“Need a hand?” he asks.
“No, I think we can manage, but thank you.”
“Uncle Jett!” A boy, who looks to be around Sam’s age, skips the last few steps and runs toward us. “Did you get it?” he asks, eyes wide and a big smile on his face.
“I might have,” Jett answers.
“Show me, please, please,” the boy begs, and his eyes grow even bigger.
I glance at Sam, who is watching the interaction just as closely as I am.
Jett pulls something out of a bag I hadn’t noticed he was holding, and not only is the boy I don’t know cheering, but so is Sam.
“Whoa! I’ve been wanting to play this game,” Sam says.
“Me too!”
“Why don’t you two go play?” Jett says, looking to me.
“Oh, I’m not sure,” I say. I don’t even know these people. He’s hot, yeah, but I can’t just let Sam go play with strangers.
“This is my nephew, Max. Max, this is Charlie and her son, Sam.”
The boys exchange a quiet hello. People always assume Sam is my son. I don’t correct them because our situation isn’t ideal and sharing that Sam’s mother was murdered, leaving me as his guardian … well, people stutter and forget how to make eye contact, once you say it.
“Please.” Sam’s eyes widen. I want to let him, because his game station has been packed up for a few days, but unloading this truck alone will take me all afternoon.
“If you let him play, I’ll help you unload your car. and I’ll recruit help,” Jett offers.
“I don’t want to impose,” I say.
“You’re not,” he says. “Besides, I think my sister could use the distraction.”
He flashes me a grin, grabs the box out of my arms, and heads up the stairs.
Oh no.
The boys and I follow him till we reach the third floor. The angry woman dashes out of her apartment, which is directly across from mine, and shoves more items over the railing. Good Lord, how much more could this guy own? The inner courtyard is disappearing quickly from all his clothes. Jett just stands there like it’s nothing, while Sam follows Max inside her apartment.
“Oh, I—” I begin.
“Whit,” Jett says and the woman stops.
“What?”
Jett nods my way. “This is your new neighbor. Her kid just went inside to play the new Madden game with Max, and I recruited us to help her unpack.”
“Hiya,” Whit says.
“Hi,” I say back.
You wouldn’t know by her beaming smile that she’s just been shouting profanities to no one in particular.
“I’m Whit,” she says, offering me her hand, and with the other she flips her black hair over her shoulder. It reaches to about the middle of her back. She’s got on a pair of black yoga pants and a red shirt. Standing barefoot, she looks to be my height. Her blue eyes are what catch my attention, though. They are almost as deep as my sister’s used to be.
“Charlie,” I say.
Jett’s phone rings right then, and he sets my box down and gives a one-sec finger before he disappears inside.
“Shall we?” Whit says and bops down the steps.
“You really don’t have to help me,” I say, following behind her.
“It’s nothing, really. I need something else to focus on.” She pauses on the steps and turns to look at me. “I’m not always this dramatic. Just so you know.”
She heads back down the steps.
What do I say to that?
“There aren’t any rules when a girl is cheated on, so please, by all means, be crazy,” is what I come up with.
Whit laughs. “I think I like you.”
“You don’t know me.”
“True. What’s your shoe size?” she asks, glancing at my cream wedges. Not exactly moving shoes, but they are strappy and go with any outfit—even the skinny blue jeans and orange V-neck I have on right now.
“Eight and a half,” I answer.
“Mine too! Mint or Oreo?”
“Both. Is that even a question?”
“Trick one. You passed. Yoga or CrossFit?”
“Yuck. Yoga. I feel like I just had a Step Brothers interview,” I tell her.
“You watch Step Brothers? Now I know you are meant to be my best friend.”
I read a meme once on Facebook about how weird it is when you meet someone and almost instantly you think, “yep this will be my friend.” I thou
ght it was silly, but now I know exactly what it means. I don’t know if it’s because she clearly takes no shit or because she has that upbeat personality like my sister had, but I think Whit and I will make great friends.
“So which boxes do you want to move first?” Whit asks as we reach the back of my car and stare at my entire life jammed into the U-Haul.
“I mean, I’m not exactly eager to move any of them, sooo,” I say, and Whit begins to laugh at the same time she grabs a basket stuffed with blanket and sheets.
I laugh with her and pull out two rolling carry-ons.
“What are you two laughing at?” Jett’s asks, reaching past me to grab another box. His muscles tighten against his shirt, and I can’t look away.
“Charlie?”
“Yeah,” I say and look up.
His shit-eating grin says he caught me.
“Do you want help with that?” he asks, his eyes flashes to the luggage I’m half holding half letting slide out of the car.
“Got it,” I say and re-grip the damn thing.
I retreat up the stairs, prop up both suitcases just inside my entryway, and before I follow Jett and Whit back down the steps, I poke my head into her apartment.
“Sam, I’ll just be out here if you need …” My words trail off as I catch a glimpse of the breaking news banner at the bottom of the TV screen.
Jimmy Kincaid escaped custody and is on the run. The escapee is highly dangerous—
Max switches the screen to the video game before I can read the rest. I don’t need to. I saw more than enough.
The best friend of Sam’s father, the man who harassed Sam and me for weeks about stealing some stupid money that belongs to him, just escaped prison.
“Charlie?”
I flinch and bump against the door frames as I twist to face Jett. “Yeah?”
“Everything okay?”
“Yes,” I say and march right past him to my car.
I sure as hell hope my answer is real, because if Jimmy finds out Sam and I are back, I’m not sure what he’d do. And I don’t want to find out.
Jimmy has never been the kind to understand and move on—he’s the type to get what he wants and kill if he doesn’t.
***
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JAMI WAGNER was born in Wyoming. Still living in the Cowboy State, Jami and her husband are currently writing their own love story with their yellow Lab.
Jami enjoys writing romance and published her debut novella, Date in the Dark, in 2015. Her first full-length novel, Just One Kiss, was published in October 2015 and is the first book in her Black Alcove series. The six-book series is available now on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.
Visit and connect with Jami at www.jami-wagner.com, on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AuthorJamiWagner, on Twitter at @Jami_Wagner, or on Instagram at @jami_s_rogers.
