“So that’s why you offered to let them stay with you? Because you didn’t think it would actually happen?” she presses. “I’m fine with him staying with you. It’s about time you took on some responsibility with him.”

It’s about time I…Jesus. I laugh under my breath and shake my head, standing up. “You’re not how I like to start my day, Lin. You know that. Now what do you want?”

She’s quiet for a moment, and then I hear her smooth voice return to its teasing tone. “Oh, you know what I want.”

And despite the disdain I feel for her now, blood still rushes to my groin, much to my displeasure. We had some fun, after all. Back in the day.

And my body remembers.

Plus, I haven’t been laid in a while.

But I’m not desperate enough to be used. Not yet anyway.

“So that’s it?” I tuck my phone between my shoulder and ear as I pull my jeans off the bench at the end of the bed and slide my legs in. “You think I’m going to just be ready to go every time you break up with a guy, get drunk, and want to get laid?”

“Why not?” she shoots back. “No matter who comes into your life or walks out of mine, there was always one thing we did really well together, right?”

“Sure, Lindsay.” I don’t bother hiding the sarcasm from my tone.

“Well, you’re not seeing anyone, are you?” she inquires, but she already knows I’m not. “And it’s not like we haven’t jumped into bed together over the years to blow off a little steam from time to time. I don’t remember you ever not liking it.”

“Yeah,” I let out a hard sigh. “It’s called a lack of options. Small town and all?”

“Asshole.”

I chuckle despite myself. I have to hand it to her. The woman can roll with any insult.

The truth is, she’s right. After the break-up when Cole was two, we still hooked up from time to time, but what I said is true, as well. The sex was good, she still has a great body, and bed was the one place we never hated each other, but I only kept going back because it was easy. Every other woman in this town is someone’s sister or daughter, and you can’t just screw around with them without them expecting a ring at some point. And I wasn’t ready for that. Not after the mess I found myself in becoming a father at nineteen. If I ever get another woman pregnant it’ll be my wife, and my wife is going to be someone I can’t get enough of.

And I do want more kids. I’ve always wanted more. But at thirty-eight—two years shy of forty—it’s likely Cole will be my only kid now. I’m getting too old to start over again.

“Come on,” she prods. “What have you got to lose? I know you remember, and I know you like everything you remember, Pike. That summer when I was seventeen? Still the best memories of my life.”

Yeah, but not everything that came after it.

“You and me going at it under a blanket on the couch with my parents sleeping right upstairs?” she tells me as if I don’t remember. “I know you still have a very healthy appetite.”

Heat rises to my skin, and I pause.

“So get over here and fuck me then,” she says.

I hesitate for only a moment, but then I shake my head. It’s tempting. My body wants it. And if I only admit it to myself, I am kind of fucking lonely when I slow down long enough to let myself feel it. There are so many mornings I hate waking up alone.

But no. My pride is sick of taking a hit every time she thinks I’ll be ready to go at her beck and call.

“Gotta get to work.” I hang up the phone before I have a chance to think about it more, or worse, reconsider. I slide my cell into my back pocket and walk over to the dresser for a T-shirt. My phone buzzes again.

“She’s fucking relentless,” I grumble and pull it back out of my pocket.

But this time, I see Dutch’s name on the screen.

I answer it, holding it to my ear. “What?”

“It’s raining.”

“Really? No shit?” I chuckle, pulling my shirt over my head. “You’re a genius.”

“Look outside.”

I pause, every muscle instantly tightening. Dammit. By his tone, I know what I’m going to see, but I walk to the window anyway and pull open one of the curtains, peering out into the morning storm.

“Shit.”

The street outside is lined on both sides with rapids of rain water, all racing for the storm drains, the whitewash crashing into the curb before sinking down into the sewers. The street itself is an orchestra of white noise, the drops bouncing off the ground or pummeling hoods of cars, the rain so thick I can barely see the houses across from me.

“I’m meeting the guys over at the shop,” Dutch tells me. “We’ll load up tarps and sandbags and meet you at the site.”

“I’ll be there in twenty,” I say, and we both hang up.

Grabbing some socks out of my drawer, I slip my phone back into my pocket and walk into the bathroom, doing a quick sweep with the toothbrush before I leave the room. I walk down the hall, past the empty bedroom, the main bathroom, and then a closed door, the other spare bedroom, quickly remembering it’s no longer empty.

But as I hit the top of the stairs, a sweet and heady scent hits my nose, making my skin buzz, and I stop to breathe in. A slight hunger pang hits my stomach, and I flinch. The girl blew out a candle yesterday. Did she leave another one burning all night? We might have to have a talk. Not only is that unsafe, but I’m really not into this whole aromatherapy thing where your body is tricked into thinking there’s blueberry muffins in the house when there’s really not.

I head down the staircase, the house creaking under my weight, but when I reach the bottom, I look around, noticing the living room lamps are on and there’s soft music coming from the kitchen.

Stepping in, I spot Jordan sitting at the island in the dark. Her laptop is open in front of her as she warms her hands around a cup of coffee.

I hesitate for a split-second, taken back by how different she looks at the moment. The light from the screen makes her eyes glimmer as the steam rises from the mug in front of her face. Then she purses her lips and blows, trying to cool the drink, while strands of her blonde hair fall around her face from the messy bun piled on top of her head.

The narrow slope of her jaw, the long lashes, the soft point of her little nose, and…. My eyes drop before I can stop them, and I take in her flawless, smooth and tanned legs, visible because she’s still wearing her sleep shorts. Heat stirs low in my stomach, and I turn away, digging in my eyebrows.

They can’t be the same age. My kid is a kid, and she’s…

A kid, too, I guess.

It’s just weird. Last time I met one of his girlfriends the chick had braces. It’s off-putting to think of him dating girls now that were my type back in the day.

“Morning,” I say as I walk past her to the Keurig.

I see her pop her head up out of the corner of my eye. “Oh, hey. ‘Morning.”

Her voice is small and cracked, and I hear the laptop close shut as I stick a K-cup in the machine and a metal travel mug under the spout. I look over my shoulder to see her quietly sliding off the stool and gathering up her computer and notebook.

“You don’t have to leave,” I tell her. “I’m on my way out anyway.”

She gives a small, tight smile but doesn’t look at me as she tucks her things to her side and picks up her coffee again.

“Have you been up a while?” I ask.

“I’m a light sleeper.” She finally raises her eyes and laughs at herself. “Thunderstorms are hard for me.”

I nod, understanding. The heat is the same way for me. The AC needs to be set at sixty-five degrees every night for me to be able to sleep. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her if the temperature bothered her last night, but there’s really no point. I need to sleep, I’m not changing it, and she knows where the extra blankets are if she needs some.

We stand in silence for a moment, and then she finally blinks and gestures to the stove behind me. “There’s, um…blueberry muffins if you’re hungry,” she says. “They’re just out of a box, but they’re pretty good.”

I twist my head around, and sure enough, a muffin pan I don’t own sits on top of the stove, each cup overflowing with a golden-baked muffin. I reach over and grab one, hiding my smile. So no scented candles raising false hopes, after all. I think I like her.

She turns around and starts to leave the room, but I call out. “Do you think you could wake Cole up real quick, please? The rain really screws with my timetable at work, and we’re still setting the foundations, so I need help sandbagging today.”

She looks at me over her shoulder, curious. “Foundations?”

“For the site I’ve been contracted to build,” I clarify. “We can’t work today with the weather, but we have to make sure the basement level doesn’t flood. I could use Cole’s help.”

Realization hits and the confusion on her face vanishes. “Oh, right. Sure.” She nods and quickly leaves the room, her footfalls hitting the stairs with purpose.

If she hadn’t already been up, I probably wouldn’t have thought to ask Cole to come help, but the opportunity to go through her instead was too good. If I ask, it’ll piss him off. If she asks, it might go over better.

And besides, he knows this is part of the agreement. He and Jordan clean up after themselves, help with the cooking, do the yardwork, and help with anything else I might need, and I’ll pay bills while they save up enough to get back on their feet. It’s not too much to ask.

I fix the lid on my travel mug and go through two more K-cups to fill my Thermos before carrying both to the front door where my work boots sit. Sitting on the bench next to the door, I set my stuff down and pull on my shoes, grab my keys, and take my black rain pullover jacket out of the entryway closet, pulling it on.

I pick up my mug and Thermos. “Cole!” I shout, ready to leave.