Chapter Three
Sebastian
The party had started to quiet down, the excited buzz of the evening giving way to contented fatigue.
Cam was basking in post-wedding bliss, and I was honestly happy for him.
At least one of us had made it to the altar without catastrophe.
I didn’t envy him the institution, but seeing the love and devotion between him and Sue sparked something sharp and unexpected in me.
Not quite jealousy. More like a twinge of.
.. longing. Not that I’d admit it to anyone.
My eyes met Jesse’s. The only woman who never let me get close.
She didn’t flirt back, didn’t throw herself at me like the others.
She looked at me as if she saw through every line, every deflection, every game.
Maybe that’s why I wanted her, because she was the forbidden fruit.
I’d respected her father too much to disrespect Jesse.
And anyway, she wouldn’t let me come near her.
As we left the venue, I offered her a ride home with Candi and me, which, granted, was probably not the highlight of her evening. Still, we were neighbors, and leaving her to wander the streets in those god-awful heels felt wrong.
Candi didn’t stop talking the entire way.
I tuned most of it out, mentally replaying the moment during the ceremony when Jesse caught the bouquet.
She’d looked like she’d been physically assaulted by a puff of sunflowers.
I might’ve teased her a little too much about it, but watching her flush and roll her eyes at me was more entertaining than anything Candi had to say.
It never bothered me before, but tonight, for some reason, Candi’s chattering was getting on my nerves. Probably because it made such a contrast with Jesse’s quiet elegance.
By the time we pulled into the parking garage, Jesse looked ready to open the door and tuck-and-roll into traffic. She shot out of the car as though she was on fire. Can’t say I blamed her.
Candi was staying the night at my place, which was not unusual.
I liked having women around. I liked the scent they left in my sheets, their little rituals, even the mess of hairpins and makeup.
I liked how they changed ten times before settling on an outfit, and the way they overreacted to something as small as chipping a nail and made me feel like the hero who comforts them.
I liked having someone in my bed at night. I wasn’t made for solitude.
We walked into the building together. Candi was still rambling about the bridesmaid dresses and whether teal was the new blush.
Jesse’s apartment was on the first floor. She stopped in front of her door and started fishing inside her tiny bag.
“Thanks for the ride, guys. Goodnight,” she called over her shoulder.
“Goodnight,” Candi replied brightly. “It was great meeting you, Jenni.”
I winced, my mouth twitching with humor. Jenni?
“You, too.” Jesse didn’t bother to correct her.
I trudged upstairs with Candi behind me. I was half distracted by her asking if I had any hand lotion, when I realized my apartment door wasn’t cooperating. The key turned only halfway, then jammed.
“What the hell?” I twisted it again.
It refused to budge. I jiggled the key again, harder. I pushed and then pulled at the door, with zero results. I cursed again, in earnest this time as I struggled to turn the damn thing.
“Is everything okay?” Jesse’s voice carried from downstairs in a loud whisper, so we wouldn’t wake the neighbors.
“No, it’s not,” I grunted. “My stupid door is stuck. It won’t open.”
There was a swish of fabric, and moments later, Jesse appeared on the landing.
“Is there anything I can do, pookey bear?” Candi stood like a kangaroo, her hands curled in front of her chest as though she was waiting for her nail polish to dry. She looked anything but helpful.
I shook my head. “No, it’s okay.”
Jesse looked amused. “Here, let me have a look.” She took the key out of my hand.
I stepped aside. She eased the key into the lock, trying to turn it. It wouldn’t go around more than a fraction of an inch.
“Do you have a flashlight?” she asked.
“On my phone.” I swiped the screen and turned on the flashlight.
She knelt in front of the door and pointed the light beam into the lock. “First thing, we check for dirt or some other obstruction. I can’t see anything though, it looks pretty clean. Maybe you should call Mr. Gore.”
As she got to her feet, she lost her balance because of her heels.
I caught her by the elbow. Her skin was warm under my touch, and impossibly soft.
My palm itched to explore more of it—all of it.
This was the first time we had touched. I told myself this explained the strange electric shiver that ran through me.
“Who’s Mr. Gore?” Candi asked.
I cleared my throat. “He’s the superintendent.”
I hesitated, checking my watch. The thought of summoning Adrian Gore from his subterranean kingdom was unsettling.
“I hate to disturb him at this hour, and on a Saturday,” I said.
“I can try to fix it.” Jesse lifted one shoulder. “But I’m not making any promises. I don’t have locksmith training. Hold on while I get my toolbox.”
“Your toolbox?” Candi’s tone was somewhere between horrified and fascinated. “Are you, like, a repairman, Jenni?”
“Something of the sort.” Grinning, Jesse made her way back downstairs.
I stood there, still mildly stunned. I knew Jesse had taken over her father’s hardware store, but I hadn’t realized she’d inherited his skill, too. The woman intrigued the hell out of me.
Candi covered a yawn. “What if she can’t fix the door?”
I glanced at her. Her face looked tired in the hallway light, all sleepy eyes and smudged lipstick. Something in me softened—out of habit, mostly.
I reached out and pulled her in for a quick kiss. “If she can’t fix it, we’ll call Mr. Gore. But this could take a while. Why don’t you grab a cab and go home?”
She pouted adorably, staring up at me. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I pulled out my phone and ordered the taxi before she could argue. Then I slid a hand down her ass, not ready to be entirely chaste. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, babe.”
She leaned in, rubbing herself against me. “If you can’t fix the door, you’ll come and live with me.”
I smiled, knowing full well she didn’t mean it.
I wasn’t a fool. I knew Candi’s ambitions went beyond a mediocre geek like me.
I’d been to her condo, I knew how she lived.
And I knew she didn’t pay for that lifestyle on her own.
I was providing entertainment that her sugar daddy didn’t.
I was okay with it. He must have been okay with it, too.
He couldn’t possibly think a woman like Candi spent months on end all alone, waiting for him to come visit.
I figured as long as we played safe, everyone got what they wanted.
I wasn’t looking for soulmates anyway. My only real focus was my work.
During the day, I was running satellite data through climate modeling software, debugging lines of code that might help save some corner of the world from drought.
At night, I let women like Candi distract me from the silence that crept in when the code went quiet.
“I’ll fix the door,” I promised lightly, then patted her ass. “Message me when you get home.”
She gave me one last sultry look before disappearing down the stairs.
Moments later, Jesse reappeared, still in her dress, her heels replaced by flip flops, a heavy-looking toolbox in her hand.
That combo of sexiness and competence was hotter than hell.
Her hair had been tamed into a cute pixie for the wedding, but now it was winning the battle against hair spray.
I usually liked long-haired women, but I loved Jesse’s short, spiky look.
She was a natural redhead. Her dad had the same thick auburn mane.
It worked incredibly well with her light, creamy skin, and freckles so adorable she could be a makeup model.
“Okay, let’s see.” She knelt in front of the door, gathering the swishy folds of her dress. The contrast between soft fabric and hard metal tools did something kinky to my brain chemistry.
She started digging into the box. “Where’s Candi?”
“She left. She was tired, so I suggested she take a cab and go home.”
Jesse looked up from under her lashes, a tongue-in-cheek smile on her face. “She ditched you, huh? I’m guessing you two aren’t going to make it to the for-better-or-worse part?”
I gave her my driest look. “I believe it’s a little too soon to think about that, Princess.”
“Hey, it’s almost the end of the month. You can get a head start on finding July’s flavor.”
“You’re not only bitchy, but judgmental as hell. That’s not very nice of you, Jenni.”
That earned me a laugh—a rich, feminine sound that caressed all my senses.
I was used to women who lived filtered, polished lives, women who were easy to understand at a glance. Women who liked to take selfies and photos of themselves doing yoga in matching sets.
Jesse was nothing like that. She was a contradiction wrapped in confidence—sharp, self-reliant, unexpectedly graceful even when she was elbow-deep in a toolbox.
I crouched beside her as she pulled out a small can. “What’s that?”
“Lubricant. It’s the first thing to try with a jammed lock.”
I watched her spray the lock, then slide the key in and out a few times with the kind of rhythm that shouldn’t have been sexy, but somehow was.
“Not enough lube?” I couldn’t help myself.
Her expression didn’t shift. “Your mind really enjoys the gutter, doesn’t it?”
“Just making a joke. Why are you always so touchy?”
“I’m not touchy.” Her tone made a solid case to the contrary.
She dug into the toolbox again, taking out something that looked like a set of torture instruments.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a lockpicking kit.” Her reply was casual, distracted even, as though that was a normal accessory to pair with a bridesmaid dress.