Chapter 1 #2
With a totally different attitude, Knox slung his heavy arm around Ford’s shoulders again. “You don’t think I could do better than him?”
Ford ignored his grin. “You wish.”
“I know all his worst habits, and believe me, he has plenty. I would never live with him. As a friend, though, he’s not a bad guy.”
“Gee, thanks for the glowing endorsement.” Ford shoved him away. “I’m not into guys. How about you?”
“Sure,” Skye said. “But not my ex, and not you guys, either.”
Clutching his heart, Knox lamented, “Damned by association.”
“I’m glad you’re finding this all so amusing.” To Ford, it was just confusing. “He’s a friend—though that could end at any moment.”
“You two bicker like a married couple.”
Loving it, Knox hauled Ford nearer again, practically crushing him into his side. “How women put up with him, I have no idea.”
Again, Ford freed himself. His brain was working overtime trying to figure out Skye’s motivation. In all the time she’d lived next door, never, not once, had she just moseyed over for a favor, much less a “single guy” favor. To him, it felt suspicious.
Apparently, Knox had a different take, because he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “So who’s it to be? One of us going to help her out?”
“As a cop,” Marcus said, “I should only get involved in an official capacity, but she doesn’t want that.”
“Sorry, no,” she said. “The police have enough to do without concerning themselves with my social calamities.”
“If he needs to be pulverized”—Bray shrugged—“I’d be happy to help.”
“I promise he doesn’t.” Skye grinned. “But if it’s ever an issue, I know who to call.”
Knox opened his mouth—and his phone dinged. He pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the screen, and said, “Sorry, but I gotta roll.”
Frowning, Ford asked, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. An elderly homeowner just asked if I could come by tonight instead of tomorrow to give an estimate on a new roof. Her husband’s medical appointment changed.” He texted a reply, then glanced up at the sun, which was hanging low in the sky. “I’d better get to it.”
Knowing Knox would always put his customers first, Ford watched him head back to his lawn chair to grab up his shirt and shrug into it.
“Well.” Skye looked at him. “I guess that leaves only you, but if you’d rather not, I promise I understand.”
“I’d rather not.”
Her smile only slipped a tiny bit.
Marcus and Bray glared at him as if he’d just kicked a puppy.
From behind him, Knox growled, “Screw it. I’ll tell the homeowner I can’t make it after all.”
With a roll of his eyes, Ford gave up. “I’d rather not—but I will.” There. He’d be benevolent. He’d play her savior. He’d lend a hand to scare off her nuisance ex. Feeling selflessly smug, he bestowed a smile on her.
But this time, Skye was the one to balk.
“I’m not sure Clyde would believe that you like me.
You’re a pharmaceutical rep, not an actor.
” Heaving a sigh, she said, “I thank you all, but I knew it was a long shot anyway. I promise, it’ll be fine.
” She started backing up. “No worries at all. I’ve totally got this.
” Going for a look of confidence, she said, “It was great meeting you all. Again, so sorry I interrupted.”
Then she had the audacity to turn around and sashay off. And yes, the woman absolutely did sashay, whether it was intentional or not.
Ford watched as she crossed the yard and reentered her house through the back door. When he realized everyone was staring after her, he said, “Ahem, married men, remember?”
“Go to hell,” Marcus said, looking extremely disappointed in him. “I wasn’t ogling her. I’m worried.”
“I ogled,” Knox admitted. “Not sure I’ve ever seen a supermodel up close and personal.”
“She’s not,” Ford groused. He seemed to remember mention of her being a buyer or merchandiser or something like that.
“She’s model-worthy, and nice, too. Which makes me wonder what’s wrong with you.”
Ford ignored him.
Bray said, “I was watching her, waiting for you to stop her. Now I just realize how bullheaded you are for letting her walk away.”
If Bray wasn’t such an enormous ape, Ford might take offense. “Me, bullheaded? Am I the only one who sees that for the trap it was?”
Marcus and Bray shared a look.
“They’re doing it,” Knox said. “That silent exchange thing that means they’re seeing something we don’t see.”
Well, hell. Marcus and Bray had both come from abusive homes, so they often picked up on clues that others might miss.
Ford, however, wasn’t as intuitive as they.
Was Skye afraid of her ex? She hadn’t seemed to be. Surely a woman as gorgeous as she could have her pick of heroes to hang around and play protector.
Provided she wanted that sort of thing. She’d claimed the ex was only a nuisance.
That she didn’t want to get serious. But maybe he’d read the situation all wrong.
If she’d truly only wanted a friendly neighbor to lend a hand, then yeah, that made him a jerk.
Damn it, now he was starting to feel guilty.
“He’s coming around,” Knox said low, as if confiding a secret to the others. “I know the way his mind works.”
Bray said, “You know, you two do your own silent communicating. Skye was right about that. You could pass yourselves off as a couple.”
“Hate to repeat myself, but he’s not my type.” With mock regret, Knox said, “Too fussy.” With a whack to Ford’s shoulder, he added, “Do the right thing, and let me know later how it goes.”
“Yeah, all right.”
Grinning, Marcus said, “I gotta go, too, but call me.”
Ford reached for him, but Bray got in his way. “Ease up there, Gas Pedal. You’re pissed at yourself, not anyone else.”
True. After glancing at Skye’s house, Ford blew out a breath. “I wouldn’t have hurt him—much.”
Marcus snorted. None of them took such threats seriously—they’d been friends for too long. Sharing insults was practically the same as a friendly greeting.
Bray said, “Jokes aside, keep us informed. If her ex turns out to be a bigger problem than she thinks, don’t take any chances.”
Since Bray’s wife had dealt with the ex from hell, Ford understood Bray’s concern.
“It’ll be fine, but thanks.” It was another couple of minutes before his three friends departed.
With his thoughts churning, he gave himself a few minutes to mentally prepare, going around back and tidying up, as always taking pleasure in what was his.
He’d worked hard to earn a good-paying job, a nice car, and a house. For as long as he could remember, he’d wanted those things. He’d wanted autonomy. He’d needed to prove—to himself more than anyone else—that he was different. Reliable. Productive. Honorable. Upstanding.
At twenty-seven, he’d reached the majority of his goals.
Giving himself a pat on the back, he took in his rectangular, aboveground pool.
Not super fancy, but it looked great now that they’d built a deck all the way around it.
There was room to add a small patio table and chairs, a few lounge chairs, maybe even a potted plant.
He envisioned many happy hours lounging in the cool water this summer.
He’d just put away the folding chairs when he heard a car pull in and everything inside him went on alert.
Jogging to the side of the yard, he saw a slick red Mustang in Skye’s driveway.
In a split second, Ford made up his mind. He sprinted around to her back door and started to knock, but then he saw her sitting at her kitchen table, her head in her hands, her long hair streaming forward, and her shoulders a little slumped.
It was the oddest thing, but something that felt remarkably like guilt gave his heart a firm kick. His conscience, too. The dual assault was damned uncomfortable, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t want anything about her to make him uncomfortable.
Worse, other body parts did strange things that made absolutely no sense in this situation. Lungs expanding, muscles twitching . . . Awareness sparked.
Well, hell.
Knowing he only had a moment, he rapped his knuckles on the frame of the sliding door and said through the screen, “Mind if I come in?”
She jerked around so fast she nearly fell off her seat. That long, sun-kissed, honey-colored hair swung out around her. Her eyes rounded, then narrowed. “I let you off the hook.” She even managed a smile. “If your friends pressured you, they shouldn’t have. Everything is fine, so—”
“The ex is here, and I want to help. Trust me, I’ll have no problem playing my role.” The natural attraction he felt for this beautiful woman, regardless of whether she was in trouble or not, would aid him.
Straightening her shoulders, she said, “Not sure I believe you.”
He couldn’t blame her. Cautiously, in case she protested, he slid the screen open. “You should keep that locked.”
One dark brow lifted.
“Okay?” He stopped a few feet from her. “If you want me to leave, say so now. Otherwise, let’s do this.”
Lips that were, maybe, just a little too full, slowly curled. “You’re not a martyr. You don’t need to do this.”
Yeah, he most definitely did. Later, he’d figure out this new altruistic bent. For now, he wanted to get on with it. “This is me, entirely willing.”
She scoffed. “Clyde will see right through you, and that’ll just make it worse.”
“I promise he won’t.” Crouching down in front of her, he smiled. “Want me to convince you first?” His smile was slow and intimate as his gaze moved over her face. “I can, you know.”
Her lips parted and her eyes softened.
In a gruff whisper, he asked, “Am I convincing?”
* * *
Skye disliked the way she suddenly felt, a little twitchy, a little too warm, and definitely aware in a sensual way, but whatever.
Though he’d made his objections clear, Ford was here now, likely prodded by his more chivalrous friends, but so what?
He’d do as well as anyone, and their association would be so temporary as to practically not exist.
Reminding herself that it was all for show, she let out a shaky breath. “If this goes off the rails—”