Chapter Five
“This can’t be it.”
Right?
Roxanne eased up on the gas pedal as she came to the end of the street. She eyed the house, the number on the mailbox, and scanned the neighborhood. According to her GPS, she’d arrived at her destination. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected. She pulled in front of the last house on the cul-de-sac.
She shut down the engine and got out of the car, surveying her surroundings.
It was something out of a movie. A tree-lined street in a quiet residential neighborhood.
Most of the houses had a similar style. Cord’s stood out all on its own.
She rounded her bumper heading up the paved walkway.
The only car in the driveway was an old green beat-up hotrod.
Definitely not the car from the accident.
She eyed the detached garage, wondering if the car in question was hidden away in there.
Roxanne brought her attention back to the house.
The wraparound porch reminded her of her childhood home, but more upscale.
She walked up the stairs, admiring the railing, brushing her palm across the smooth surface.
The finish had so much detail as if it were hand-crafted.
It was grandiose in an almost subtle way.
She peeked over at the far end of the porch.
It was bare of any decoration or furniture.
Such a shame. It’d be the perfect spot for a set of rocking chairs with a small table wedged between them.
She followed the line of the roof. Hanging plants would add the perfect touch for ambiance.
Ferns were sturdy and strong to withstand the Texas heat in the summer.
Though the house was in dire need of color accents. Maybe marigolds instead of ferns?
What am I doing?
Roxanne shook her head, turning toward the front door.
She’d gotten distracted and needed to stay focused.
The only thing she was interested in was tracking down Cord and getting the money for the repairs.
And he will pay! Twelve hundred dollars wouldn’t be a huge hit to her bank account, but it was the principle.
He’d hit her, fed her a bullshit story that played on her compassion and convinced her not to go through insurance.
Of everything she’d listed, his sob story had specifically pissed her off the most. She trusted him and gave a stranger the benefit of the doubt.
Sucker.
Roxanne rang the doorbell, retreated a few steps and eyed the welcome mat.
At least that was what she assumed it once said.
The only visible letters were the w, half a c and an e.
Roxanne leaned past the door, peeking into the side window.
With the etched glass, she couldn’t make out much.
And there was no sign of movement. It was almost eerie how quiet it was.
She glanced back at the street. It was a nice neighborhood, but there was no one in sight.
An unsavory twist knotted in her stomach. She was about to confront a guy with no backup if the situation turned hostile. She hadn’t considered that prospect on her drive over. Roxanne rocked on her heels, wondering if maybe she should’ve taken Stone up on his offer to come with her.
No. She was an adult. It would be fine. Hell, even Bogs, who tended to be a little overprotective, had her back when she insisted on going alone.
Though she couldn’t quite shake the odd feeling she had about having his support in this situation.
He seemed very eager for her to venture to a stranger's house by herself. Weird.
Roxanne rolled her shoulders, inhaling a deep breath. I can do this on my own. Independence was something Roxanne had in abundance. She leaned forward, opting to knock on the door instead of ringing the bell again.
The door flew open seconds later and she was met with a guy who definitely wasn’t Cord, though they shared similar features.
He was tall with a lanky build and a messy mop of blond hair falling around his eyes.
Calling him a guy might’ve been a stretch.
Boy would’ve been a more accurate assessment. Sixteen, seventeen, maybe.
He didn’t say a word. No type of greeting. He was too busy ogling her. The corner of his mouth curled as his eyes slid down her body, landing and perusing a bit too long on her breasts. His mouth crept into a full-fledged grin. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Teenage boys.
“Eyes up here, buddy.” She snapped her fingers, and his gaze darted up. His cheeks shaded to a deep pink, and she bit back her smile.
“Hi.” Roxanne wiggled her fingers in a short wave.
His eyes widened, and he shifted on his bare feet, gripping the doorknob in a tight hold. He lifted his chin in what should’ve been a simple move to pull off. Not for this kid. He was trying way too hard to seem unaffected.
“Uh, hey.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, hi.” His eyes once again dropped to her breasts, but he seemed to catch himself and quickly return to her stare.
This wasn’t the first, or second, or even the hundredth time she’d been standing in a situation similar to this one. She was by no means, the most beautiful woman on the planet. But she owned a mirror. She knew her beauty, as all women should. However, this whole scene was slightly absurd.
Black hair, blue eyes and breasts. There are a million of us out there. Pull it together, kid.
She drew in a breath, smiling. “Is Cord here?”
She knew he heard her, but he remained in a semi-awkward daze.
Now, she was wholeheartedly regretting her decision to come on her own.
The boy might not pose any threat, but getting his eyes off her body and actually engaging in some semblance of conversation might be a hell of a lot easier if she had Stone standing next to her.
Ah, teenage boys.
“Sweetheart?”
He blinked, white-knuckling the doorknob. “Yeah?”
“Cord?” She widened her eyes, gestured to the door. “Is he home?”
His smile faltered, and he shook his head. “No.”
Just great!
He stepped forward, widening the door, giving her a glimpse into the entryway of his home.
From her view, she couldn’t see much except for a large couch set in the back and the wooden staircase leading to the second floor.
That was really what caught her eye. No one had cascading stairs anymore, probably because of the expense.
It was obviously mahogany, which she knew wasn’t cheap.
She craned her neck over the boy’s shoulder for a better glimpse. Beautiful.
“Hey, um,” he hooked his thumb over his shoulder, “do you wanna come in and wait for him?”
His eagerness was almost comical. Roxanne surveyed the boy.
She was usually a good judge of character.
Not always, but for the most part, she could read people well enough to weed out the decent from the dangerous.
This kid may be eager and flustered but wasn’t a threat.
She took in his size and build, cocking her head to the side. I could take him if needed.
“Okay, sure.” She walked forward and hid her smile when he stumbled backward. It was as if he were in shock she actually took him up on his offer.
Roxanne only made it to the foyer when it was her turn to be entranced. She looked up at the tray ceiling, scanning the crown molding.
God, this is amazing. Her view from the porch was nothing compared to the close-up she had now. This was spectacular. Old-world charm, something straight out of the fifties in the very well-to-do era.
“Your house is beautiful.”
“Uh, thanks. My brother built it.” He closed the door, turning around and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Well, he rebuilt it. All the interior is new. Gutted the whole place.” There was an element of pride in his tone.
Roxanne glanced over her shoulder, smiling. “Your brother is incredibly talented.” She pointed toward the arched doorway leading into the living room. “Do you mind if I …”
She hadn’t even finished her sentence when he rushed forward, passing her. “Yeah, come on in.”
She followed him into the room, down two steps. Everything from the floors to the molding on the windows had the same dark mahogany wood as the staircase. There was no denying the details. This house was somebody’s baby. A labor of love.
“I helped.” Roxanne glanced over, and he waved his hand, gesturing to the room. “I mean, I helped my brother with some of the stuff. Like the building stuff.”
Roxanne pressed her lips together. Whether or not it was true, it was said in a way to impress her.
“Well, you and your brother did an amazing job.”
His chest puffed out like a rooster.
“You should see the upstairs.” His face immediately shaded red, and his mouth fell open. “I didn’t mean like come upstairs or anything creepy.” He gulped, and she raised her brows. “Not trying to get you up to my room, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
It had been a long time since she’d been around a fumbling teenager.
Most men she spent time with, besides her brothers, had the market cornered on being a player.
It was almost refreshing to see a guy flustered.
Although she was pretty sure that if she took him up on the offer he was currently denying he made, he’d be running up the stairs in record time.
“Uh, I’m Holden, by the way. Cord’s brother.”
“Roxanne.”
“Roxanne,” he whispered, and his lips spread in a wide smile. “That’s a cool name.”
She chuckled. “You think?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Roxanne rounded the coffee table, pausing near the brick fireplace. “Do you always invite strangers into your house?”
He scoffed and shrugged. “You know Cord, so you’re not really a stranger.”
Oh, this is going to be fun.
Roxanne folded her arms and stared at him. “I asked if he was home. I never said we were friends.”
His smile faltered, and his face paled. “Oh shit, you’re not one of his psycho exes looking to rip out my heart and leave it on his bed as a sign of retribution for him fucking you over, are you?”