CHAPTER FOUR
Jenna
The smell of salt permeates the air as I enter Jack’s beautiful tree-lined street, and when I come to a stop in front of his house, my jaw drops.
Not only does he live one street away from the beach in the most gorgeous town I think I’ve ever driven through, but his house could grace the cover of a home design magazine.
The modern glass and painted concrete structure sits back off the street, behind a perfectly manicured garden and lawn. It’s two…no, three stories high, and… Holy shit, is that a pool on the second level?
While the topic of money never came up in our letters, I got the feeling his parents had been well-off.
But I wasn’t expecting this. It doesn’t fit his personality.
He’s carefree and fun and not at all organized enough to keep this place in check.
Even if he’s paying a housekeeper to help. It’s not him.
Though, come to think of it, he hasn’t moved since the first letter he sent me. This could very well be his parents’ house. The house he grew up in.
If I grew up in a house like this, in this location, I wouldn’t move either.
God, I have so many questions. And that means it’s time to get the fuck out of the car to get answers.
Closing my window, I adjust my oversized sunglasses and grab my phone to leave, pausing when it vibrates in my hand.
Blair: I’ve changed my mind. Come home. What if he’s a psycho?
My laughter bellows and I wish Blair was here so I could reach out and hug her. It’s been eighteen hours since I last spoke to her and three days since I made the decision to come. Yet she chooses now, when I’m in front of his house, to change her mind. Oh, B.
My phone buzzes again, and I smile at Hayley joining the chat.
Hayley: He’s not a stranger, Blair. Jenna’s met him
Blair: Eight years ago. People change
Me: Some do. Some really don’t
Me: I’m already parked in front of his house, seconds away from getting out of the car
After puckering my lips, I touch up my gloss and grab the door handle, until another message comes through.
Blair: Wait! I’ve added to my cons list and I thought you should know
Blair: Cons—He could be a psycho. He might have an awful haircut (Hayley showed me photos of some popular Australian styles and just…no. You are better than that), and finally, he may be all talk and no action
An obnoxious laugh snorts out of me and I cover my mouth with my hand.
Hayley: Ooh she’s right. He could be rocking a long-haired mullet
An image follows showing a guy with a unique haircut that could rival something from the eighties, and I shudder at the sight. That’s got to be fake. I hope. But real or not, I’m confident in saying…
Me: He doesn’t have a mullet
At least he didn’t. Eight years ago.
The Jack I remember had short hair, almost a buzz cut, and a rigid jaw line.
He was also, as Blair said, a little bit nerdy.
He doesn’t strike me as the type of guy to have a mullet.
But… people do change. Hell, I’ve changed since we first met.
I was a platinum blonde with stick-straight hair back then.
Now I keep my hair natural—light brown with soft waves.
Makes me wonder why we never exchanged more recent photographs over the years. Although, I’m on TV and Jack’s a professional rugby player—Rugby, not league. I have no idea what that means but he was always sure to distinguish between the two. Either way, I’m sure I could find his photo online.
Hayley: You could look him up
I laugh at her thoughts reflecting my own, only I have a better option, now that I’m here.
Me: Or…I could just knock on his door?
Hayley: Yes, go get him, girl
Blair: Be careful
If I wasn’t as convinced as I am that I know him, I’d probably be worried like Blair, but I’m not. I’d be willing to bet he’s the same guy he is in his letters. Except maybe the last letter because that’s a whole different side of him that I never knew existed. I can’t wait to meet him.
God, if he—
A thundering knock startles me and I throw my phone, watching it disappear between the seat and the center console.
Goddammit. What the hell was that for? Armed with an obviously forced smile, I turn to greet the shadowy figure lurking by my window—ready to give them a piece of my mind—but freeze at the sight of him.
Hot damn. Are all Australians gorgeous? I should have made the trip sooner.
My smile turns real until I register the curl of his lips, and the anger in his eyes throws me. What did I do?
“Move your car!” He answers my unspoken question, gesturing for me to move out of my prime parking space and pointing down the road. “This is not beach parking.”
The beach? That’s not why I’m here. Not entirely. According to B, I’m here to meet my soulmate, and this guy is ruining my buzz.
“What?” I mouth, pointing to my ear, pretending I can’t hear him. “I’m sorry.” I frown sympathetically, hoping to get a rise, and he delivers with the most delicious scowl.
His nose flares, frustration rising, and I almost laugh but catch myself in time.
“Open the window,” he yells, tapping on the glass, seemingly believing I can’t hear him. Was he born yesterday?
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see them, and do as he asked, smiling while the window opens. “Can I help you?” I lower my sunglasses ever so slightly and innocently bat my eyelashes.
The guy’s eyes widen before he shakes his head in annoyance. “You need a permit to park here.”
“I’m sorry, are you a cop?”
“No. I live here.” He says no in that long way Aussies say it—nawr or noowa—and it makes me smile, further pissing him off.
“The fun police then? Got it. I’ll risk the ticket.” I grab the door handle, as his fingers curl around the windowsill, the veins in his tanned skin bulging.
And fuck me…I’m moving here. I don’t need to be a Hollywood star. I’ll be a beach babe. I’ll—
“Move your damn car.” His hand tightens around the metal and I struggle to avert my gaze. I wonder if he realizes the anger makes him hotter. “Look, I just got home from a long night at work.”
“So…?”
“You need a permit to park here!”
“Oooh. You want my parking space?”
“Yes!”
“Can’t you park somewhere else? Don’t you have a driveway?”
“I do but I can’t park there because… God. I don’t have to explain myself. I need you to move your car.”
“Where am I going to park?”
“Not my problem.”
“It kind of is. I’m not going to move until I know where to go.”
“God—” He cuts himself off and steps back, running a hand down his gorgeous face, his expression turning neutral. “Please. Can you please move your car so I can park here? The inspectors come by at least three times a day. Trust me, you don’t want that fine.”
My shoulders drop along with the tone of his voice, and I let out a soft sigh. “Okay. I’m going.”
“Thank you.”
He walks away without another word and I search around for my phone, taking one last look at Jack’s house before throwing my rental into drive and pulling away.
I resist the urge to flip him off, but when it takes me another twenty-five minutes to find somewhere that isn’t marked with a residents only sign, I regret that decision.
At least then I’d have an ounce of satisfaction to accompany my frustration.
I’m a hot mess by the time I make it to Jack’s front door, and only then does it occur to me that he may not be home. Why the hell didn’t we exchange goddamn phone numbers?
I knock on the huge gray door until I find what appears to be an intercom and buzz the doorbell. A red light comes on and I smile, certain that something that fancy has a camera.
I almost wave until the door flies open and I jump, coming face-to-face with someone that is definitely not Jack.
Instead, the broody god from the street stands dripping in front of me, an obnoxiously bright beach towel wrapped around his waist. Water pools in the crevices of his abs, and I find myself watching one little drop as it makes its way toward his—
“Can I help you?” He clears his throat, repeating my words back to me. I continue to stare at his chest, the answer yes sitting on the tip of my tongue.
I bet he could help me goood.
My body heats, imagining all the things he could do to me.
“Jenna?”
I snap out of my fantasy, my gaze darting to Jack standing behind my new “friend,” finding him in a similar state of undress, only, he’s somehow more alluring since he’s wearing gray sweatpants and an adorably confused expression. Much better than a scowl.
“Holy fucking shit.” His face splits into a wide grin. “I’m in shock. Jenna Brooks is standing on my doorstep. What are you doing here?”
“I was in the neighborhood and—”
“No way, really?” His eyes grow and a laugh escapes me.
“No. I got your Christmas letter and decided to come and explain myself in person.” While also seeking answers on what the hell your letter was about.
“You did?” Surprise registers on Jack’s face, and his eyes briefly flash to the guy holding the door.
“I did.”
He frowns, and for the briefest of seconds, I wonder if I made a mistake. Until I remember I’m in Australia. What do I care if he tells me to fuck off—there’s plenty for me to do. And I don’t just mean activities.
I raise a questioning brow, and Jack’s expression morphs until he’s smiling in awe.
“Sorry. As I said, I’m in shock. I can’t believe you’re here.
At my house. In Australia. Bro, can you believe it?
” He turns to look at the gorgeous grumpy asshole again, and it’s then I see the resemblance.
“It’s Jenna, bro. The girl I’ve been writing to for years. Jenna, this is my brother, Mason.”
Before I can respond, Mason looks my way again, his grayish-blue eyes appraising me with dislike. “The infamous pen pal,” he says, sounding bored. “I’ll leave you two to…whatever.” He shrugs, turning away.
“I believe the description you’re looking for is ‘catch up.’”
Mason glances back at me and sneers, releasing the door and walking away as it closes in my face, forcing Jack to rush forward to grab it.
“Sorry.” Jack cringes. “He’s pissed off because I made him answer the door when he’d just jumped into the pool.”
“The one on your balcony?”
“No.” Jack frowns again as though that’s a preposterous idea and gestures behind him. “The one out back.”
“Oh, riiight.” I wink with a grin and Jack chuckles, the sound of it bringing me back to our time together in college. Like nothing has changed.
“I still can’t believe you’re here.” His awe returns and I feel good about my decision to come.
“Surprise.” I wave my hands around. “But…are you going to invite me in?” I raise a brow, and he curses, chuckling to himself.
“Fuck, yes. Come in. Come in. You actually came on a good day. We’re having a pool party with some friends. You brought bathers, right?”
“Bathers?” A soft giggle escapes me, remembering how much shit I gave Hayley for using that term. “I did. A pool party sounds fun.”
He smiles brightly and my heart jolts, a warmth spreading through me that I haven’t felt before. I smile back but shake off my thoughts the second he turns to guide the way. Dammit, Blair. He is not my soulmate.
Soulmates don’t exist.