Chapter 16
JORDAN
The cold hits me like a punch to the face the second we step outside Travis’ house. I didn’t bother with a jacket—my house is right next door—but I’m regretting that decision now. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I start down the driveway.
Reed and Drew break into “Jingle Bells,” the Batman-smells version we used to scream as kids, which is fitting since Reed’s maturity level never progressed past age twelve. They’re loud, off-key, and precisely the kind of obnoxious that makes me wish for earplugs.
Willow’s recording them for future blackmail. “You guys should take this show on the road.”
“Yeah, to their houses,” I say, hooking my thumb to the right. Reed lives on the other side of Travis, Drew next to Reed, and my parents’ house is next to Drew’s. We’re all lined up like a messed-up sitcom family. But most days, it’s great.
Willow grins. “Oh my God, I just thought of the perfect duo name. Are you ready? Two Pricks.” She snorts. “Get it? Because your last name is Thorne and you’re a prick.”
Reed rolls his eyes. “We’re buzzed, not stupid, Will.”
“I think it’s funny as hell,” she fires back.
“It is,” I add. “And accurate.”
Ginger wrinkles her nose. “Drew’s not a prick.”
Reed throws his hands up. “Oh, and I am?”
“One hundred percent,” Willow says before Ginger can.
He groans. “Why do I even hang out with you people?”
“We’re family. You’re stuck with us,” I remind him.
“And you have no other friends,” Willow adds, smirking.
Drew and I clasp hands and pull each other into a quick hug. “See you this week,” I tell him.
He nods. “If you want a real workout, come to the gym with me.”
“I’ll think about it,” I lie. No chance of that happening. He trains like he’s prepping for the Olympics, and my ego doesn’t need that kind of punishment again. My body doesn’t either.
Ginger hugs everyone, saving me for the end. Her arm curls lightly around my back, the briefest lean against me, then she pulls away with a look that asks, what now?
I pull out my phone and type a text.
Me: Drive around for a few minutes, and when you come back, pull into my garage.
Reed catches me texting and grins. “What’s that, man? Setting up a booty call?”
I laugh it off. “Just checking in with Travis about something.”
“Sure you are.” He slings an arm around my shoulders. “This is classic Jordan. Always down to fuck, no matter the hour.”
“Go home, Reed.”
He chuckles, unbothered, and starts down the street. Willow and Drew trail after him while Ginger gets in her car. She reads my message, glances up, and gives a single nod.
By the time she pulls away, I’m walking up my driveway, trying to shake off the irritation Reed left crawling up my spine. I’ll probably never outlive my ladies’ man reputation, but I’m working on being better. On being the kind of man Ginger deserves.
The porch light glares down on me, highlighting the crooked wreath I swore I wasn’t going to hang. I punch in the garage code, and the door rolls open. A couple of minutes later, headlights sweep over me as Ginger pulls inside. I hit the button to close the door, sealing us in our little bubble.
She steps out, grinning. “I feel like I’m on a spy mission. Should I use a code name or something?”
I grab her overnight bag before she can. “Sure, Agent G Thang.”
She throws her head back and laughs.
“Operation Sneak-In is officially underway,” I declare.
She wipes happy tears from her eyes. “Do you think we can pull this off without getting caught?”
“That’s doubtful. Reed’s probably looking over here with binoculars as we speak.”
She shakes her head. “No way. Willow would call me the second she suspected something. She’s like a shark smelling blood and going in for the kill. I’ve never been able to keep a secret from her for long.”
I lead her through the front door. She pauses to pull off her boots, sighing as she straightens. Her eyes go wide as she takes in the room. “Oh my God, Jordan. This looks amazing.”
This place barely resembles the fixer-upper I bought five years ago.
Back then, it had paneling, ugly carpet, mismatched furniture, and dozens of other things that needed to be updated.
Now, hardwood floors gleam beneath the soft glow of recessed lights.
The muted gray-blue walls create a calm and lived-in feel in the room.
Built-ins flank the fireplace, filled with books, records, and knick-knacks from my grandfather.
“Wow,” she breathes, fingertips brushing the back of the couch. “I thought your kitchen renovation was nice but this…”
I chuckle, a little self-conscious. “Not what you expected?”
“Not at all. I pictured more of a bachelor pad and less coastal comfort. But honestly? It’s just right.
” Her gaze drifts to the framed photos on the wall of my dad teaching us how to fish, my grandparents with my brothers and me on the beach, and a picture of my parents with all of us.
“These are great. Did you blow them up yourself?”
“Nah, I hired a pro and then had them framed.”
“They’re perfect.”
“Thanks. I’ll put your bag in my room—unless you’d rather stay in the spare bedroom.”
She shakes her head. “I want to sleep with you.”
Blood rushes south. I want to sleep with her too. I’m pretty sure we mean different things when we say that, though. Okay, that’s not helping.
I clear my throat. “Be right back.”
In my room, I drop her bag and drag a hand through my hair. I need to get a grip before I embarrass myself. I’m on edge, like a teenage boy about to touch a tit for the first time.
When I return, she’s examining the shelves.
“Can I get you anything? A drink? A snack?”
She peers over her shoulder, smiling. “I’m good. I already hit my sugar quota for the night.”
“From the sangria or the twenty kinds of Christmas cookies?”
“Both.” She turns around entirely. “But you go ahead if you’re hungry.”
“I’m good too.” I flip the switch for the gas fireplace. Flames instantly come to life.
“Nice trick.”
“Convenient, huh?” I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “I love the smell of a wood-burning fireplace, but this one’s low maintenance.”
“I’d love that,” she says. “No ashes or waiting for it to burn out before bed.”
“It throws decent heat too.”
She studies the flames. “I like it here. It’s peaceful.”
“Most of the time. Until Reed decides to shoot hoops in my yard at midnight.”
She laughs. “I can picture that.”
“If you wake up to a basketball pounding pavement, you’ll know what it is.”
Her smile fades slightly. “Are you sure you want me to stay?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
She looks down, fingers fiddling with her sweater hem. I cross the distance and pull her into my arms. Her hands rest lightly against my chest.
“You’re freezing,” she murmurs.
“You could fix that,” I tease.
She searches my face. “You really think this is a good idea?”
“Nope,” I admit with a grin. “But I think it’s the right one.”
She squints at me. “What does that even mean?”
I shrug. “Hell if I know.” And then I kiss her without distractions. There’s no one to knock on the door and interrupt or come crashing in and find us in a compromising position. It’s just the two of us, wholly immersed in one another. When we finally break apart, we’re both out of breath.
She traces a finger along my jaw, her touch soft enough to wreck me in the best of ways. “I don’t want to ruin your expectations, but I want to be honest. I’m not sure how far I want to go tonight.”
“I don’t have any expectations,” I tell her. “I just want to enjoy being with you. How’s that sound?”
Her smile returns. “Perfect.”
I lace my fingers through hers and guide her to the couch. She curls into the leather cushions, tucking her legs to the side like she belongs there. I drop down beside her and drape an arm around her shoulders.
We sit quietly, soaking in the warmth and newness of this—of us. I’ve never invited another woman over. This house has always been mine alone, my private space. But, somehow, with her here, it finally feels like home.
Her head tips against my shoulder. “I like this. You and me. It’s nice.”
“Nice is an understatement.” It feels like finding a piece of my world I didn’t know was missing.
She looks up, searching my face. “Really?”
“Yeah. Being with you is easy.”
“It is. But it won’t always be this way. Once everyone finds out…”
“I know.” I brush my fingers along her arm. “But I’m not worried about them. My focus is on getting this right.”
Her lips curve gently. “You are.”
I pull her closer. The weight of her against me feels natural, like something I’ve been waiting for. After a long stretch of silence, she murmurs, “I should go to bed before I fall asleep.”
“Okay.” I rise and offer her my hand. “Let’s get you to bed.”
She arches a brow. “I bet you say that to all your hookups.”
“Ha ha. That’s funny,” I say, but it’s not at all. Why would she say that when we’ve been having such a great night? Is she feeling insecure because of my past?
“Wait.” I stop just inside the threshold of my room, framing her face with my hands. “You should know, I’ve never brought another woman home. No one but me has slept in this bed.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. The only person I’ve had sex with in this house is myself.”
She bursts out laughing, which is the reaction I’d hoped for.
“Surprised?” I ask.
“A little.”
“I’ve never wanted to share this with anyone else. Only you.”
Her arms slide around my waist. “I’m glad. I like being here.”
“Good. Because I plan on keeping you around for as long as I can.”
She grins. “You just want muffins in the morning.”
“What? No,” I say, feigning offense. “Although, I might have all the ingredients in my pantry.”
She widens her eyes. “What a coincidence.”
“Right?”
“I should probably change and get to bed if you’re putting me to work in the morning.”
“If you want privacy, the guest room’s next door, and the en suite bathroom is right there.” I point at the open door on the other side of my room.
She hesitates, giving me a look that burns straight through me. “As tempting as it is to tease you, I think I’ll change in the bathroom.”
“Ladies first.”
“Thank you.” She grabs her bag and disappears behind the door.
I sit on the end of the bed and scrub my palms down my face. There’s no way I’m sleeping tonight. Having her in my bed will be torture. I’m about to have a hard-on for seven hours straight. Fuck me.
I need a distraction from my thoughts, so I stand and strip down to my t-shirt and boxer briefs. When she comes back out, she’s wearing sleep shorts and a t-shirt, her face washed clean, and I groan. “You trying to kill me?”
She laughs. “In this?” Her fingers pull on the shirt. “This is what I normally sleep in.”
“It’s sexy as hell.”
“It’s a t-shirt and shorts, about as non-sexy as you can get.”
“I can see your nipples,” I point out. “And those shorts aren’t doing me any favors.”
She glances down and shrugs. “Oh well. Nipples happen.”
I laugh. “I like when yours happen.”
She moves to the bed. “Which side do you like?”
“Left.” I duck into the bathroom to attend to my nightly routine.
When I come out, she’s under the covers. I shut off the light and then slide in beside her. For a moment, neither of us moves. Then she turns toward me.
“Hey,” she whispers.
“Hey,” I whisper back.
Her hand settles on my chest, right over my heart. Can she feel how it’s racing?
“This feels weirdly normal,” she says.
“That’s because it is.”
Her lips twitch. “Does normal usually make your heart race like this?”
Without warning, I lean in, catching her lips with mine.
The kiss starts soft, barely there, but then she sighs into my mouth, and my plan to keep things PG-13 takes a nosedive straight into R-rated territory.
Sliding my hand along her jaw, I deepen the kiss, dragging her on top of me.
She’s warm and soft, and fits like she was made for me.
Her thighs straddle my hips, and I can feel her heat through her thin cotton shorts.
I slide my hands under her shirt, palming the smooth skin of her back as she moves against me.
“I thought we were just going to sleep,” she murmurs against my lips, but there’s no conviction in her words.
“We can still sleep,” I say, trailing kisses down her neck. “Eventually.”
She laughs softly, the sound vibrating through me. “You’re a bad influence.”
“You started it by looking so damn beautiful in my bed.” I roll us over, placing her beneath me with her hair fanned out across my pillow.
The sight of her here like this stirs something primal in me.
I trace the curve of her cheek with my thumb, marveling at how essential she’s already become to me.
“What are you thinking about?” she whispers.
“How important you are to me,” I answer honestly. “And how lucky I am that you’re here.”
“You’re important to me too.”
Lowering my mouth to hers, I take her lips in another kiss, trying to convey all the things I’m not ready to say out loud.