I Burned Down His House (Love at First Crime Book 3)

by Jessica Frances

  “I’ve heard that, too. However, I think Mrs. Glovers’ ninety-year-old husband will disapprove of your attention.”

  “Who cares? I can take him,” Joey responds without missing a beat, flexing his arms.

  I feel a tingle at seeing his biceps bulge under his shirt.

  “Lucky her.”

  “Yep, and my other neighbor isn’t so bad herself.” He squeezes my foot.

  I try to swallow past my dry mouth when I take in his serious expression.

  What is happening right now?

  “So … So, what does Hart detail look like?” I quickly sputter, hoping to get away from our new topic.

  I don’t think I can handle a flirty Joey, particularly when a huge part of me is telling me I should ignore any trepidation or reasons for us to not rush into something and jump him right here, right now.

  Joey starts his hands up again, rubbing into the arch of my foot. I bite my lip to stop a moan from escaping.

  “Most nights, he eats dinner at some fancy restaurant, usually alone, although it’s not uncommon for him to have a beautiful woman at his side. They always check out when we run their details, and they often have some sort of standing within the community. He treats them well, and as far as we can see, he leaves them wanting more, not the other way around. Then he checks in on the club. He goes there every night. Sometimes for an hour, sometimes for many hours. He spends a lot of time on the floor with the women he employs, or the customers, but we have no eyes or ears in his office. Once he’s in there, we’re blind.”

  “Why can’t you get eyes in there?”

  “The security is too good. He either doesn’t have cameras in there, or Jerry hasn’t been able to hack into the footage. Gemma can’t even get her eyes on the inside of the room, let alone get her foot in the door. Other than his security, or his flavor of the month, no one gets in there.”

  I take this in, speculating over what sick secrets that room likely keeps.

  “And then he goes home and you do, too?”

  “Depends. If he spends a while at the club, then yeah, he heads home afterward. Sometimes across the street to his house, or sometimes he accompanies a woman to her house or a hotel. I’ve seen and heard that man have sex enough times to put a huge dent in my own sex life.”

  “I guess erectile dysfunction wasn’t too far off?” I joke.

  “You seem to be really stuck on that. You hoping I’ll ask to prove myself?”

  I flush again, wishing more than anything he would like to prove that statement wrong with me all night long. But, what if we did give in and things became awkward? I like what we have right now—our delicious dinners and easy banter. Can I really risk that for one night with him?

  “It’s okay. I don’t have a penis you can measure yourself against, so you’ll win in a battle of the cocks with me,” I finally say, keeping things light.

  He rolls his eyes, but his smile lights up his face. I have always known Joey to have an easy smile, but I love when he directs those huge grins my way. It makes me feel special. Even if that’s stupid, I’m not going to ignore it. I deserve to feel special.

  “Good to know about your penis-less state. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Keep it in mind for what?”

  “I don’t know. I’m a P.I.; I collect information.” He shrugs.

  “And knowing I don’t have a penis is pertinent information?”

  He grins. “It’s certainly not bad information to have.”

  I roll my eyes at him for lack of anything better to do. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Sure, like what?”

  Just as he asks this, he moves his hand up my leg, rubbing over my calf and tickling under my knee. How the hell can that feel so fucking good? He’s doing it on purpose.

  “Joey, you seriously have magic hands,” I murmur, closing my eyes so I can focus on the sensation.

  “You have no idea.”

  The insinuation is clear, but I can’t be bothered to think of a witty response. My brain is turning to mush like the rest of me.

  “How about you tell me why you became a private investigator,” I murmur, just wanting to hear his voice some more.

  “Because I’m good at it.”

  “That’s it?” I ask, opening my eyes to watch him shrug nonchalantly.

  “There were lots of reasons. I followed what my friends were doing, which at the time was tied to the P.I. business. I was a handyman for a few hotels, and it turns out I got some good connections out of that. When a case came up that involved a hotel, where I was friendly with the cleaner, I was able to get in and get what was needed.”

  “So, you’re good at it and you wanted to do it because your friends did?” I recap.

  “Not everyone has altruistic motives. Sometimes you just fall into shit. I fell into this. I liked that it came easy to me. I liked that it meant I got to spend time with my brothers. I liked that it meant I got laid a lot following these assholes to different bars. I’m not some noble guy.”

  I take in his defensive words, wondering why he’s speaking this way. Then I eye him carefully, noticing he seems determined not to look my way, focusing on my leg instead.

  “I don’t think there is anything wrong with any of that, except what you’re doing now is definitely heroic. Taking down Hart is important.”

  He works his jaw, his eyes alight with something I can’t read since he is still focused on my leg, not that I’m complaining about the attention he is still giving to my leg.

  “I know it’s important,” he finally says, his eyes meeting mine. “And I’m not trying to downplay that. I just mean I’m not some hero. Most of the time, I take photos of cheating spouses in compromising positions. I see the worst of humanity, and with all this shit we’ve taken on after Zander found Ava, well, that shit has gone tenfold.”

  “Not everyone is awful,” I defend. However, with my cheating ex-husband, along with the betrayal from my ex-best friend, can I truly believe that life isn’t full of imperfect people making mistakes every day?

  “I know there are good people. My brothers are good people. Sasha is good people, although sometimes annoying and meddling as hell. Ava, Van, Jensen, Cynthia, my parents—they are all good people. You’re a good person. I get that.”

  “Do you? Because you seem to fly through women, if my eyesight isn’t betraying me. What is your longest relationship?”

  His hands freeze over my leg. “We’re seriously having that talk right now?”

  “It’s what friends do, right?”

  “I’m not some jaded person, Teags. I just know that life is too short to waste on something pointless. For me, relationships are just that. I am willing to invest in friendships, I love my parents, but that’s it.”

  I take that in, not sure how I feel. Haven’t I thought something similar since my divorce? Except, after the storm I weathered, I didn’t even indulge in friendships, let alone relationships.

  “You’re right.”

  “I am?” He scans over me, perhaps looking for evidence that I’m lying.

  “Yes. Relationships are messy. I am divorced for a reason.”

  He doesn’t look surprised by this, so I assume he must have found that out since he mentioned looking into me to Zander and Declan.

  “He an asshole?” is what he asks instead.

  “Yep.” I don’t elaborate. Though, I must admit, seeing Joey’s anger on my behalf makes me feel a little better.

  “Sorry you went through that.”

  “I’m not.” I take a deep breath as those words settle inside me. Up until this second, I wasn’t sure that was true. But it is.

  I was never truly myself with Jarrod. We drifted for a long time before his cheating came to light. To be honest, I was just going through the motions, feeling like I was following the plan. Get married, have children, do couple things, have a couple friends, and stop doing things alone and do things together. It never occurred to me to question if I ever wa
nted any of that. It didn’t enter my mind that I was settling for some preconceived notions that didn’t fit me. It might be right for some, but it wasn’t for me. Not then. Maybe not ever.

  If I hadn’t found them together that day, if he hadn’t been a cheating asshole, I still would be with him now. And I would have never been completely satisfied with my life.

  The fire had long left us. I’m not even sure what we felt for each other was ever fire. There had been a spark. Was that it, though? A spark can’t last a lifetime.

  I never let that truly sink in until now. And the relief I feel makes my shoulders literally droop.

  It hurt to be betrayed and played like I was, but it all worked out for the best. I might be a little bruised, a little scarred and weary, but I’m still better off. I can live the life I want now. I can do anything I want.

  “Teags, you okay? You just disappeared on me,” Joey asks, shifting so his magic fingers are off my leg and leaning close enough that his body is almost touching mine, concern written over his face.

  Why is it that what I want is so unattainable? Has heartbreak written all over him?

  “I’m fine,” I assure, gently pulling back to give us more room. I tuck my feet under me, aware having his hands on me is not a good thing. It’s messing with my thoughts.

  He seems reluctant to let me go, but he does. His concern doesn’t disappear, though, nor does his attention.

  “New topic?” he suggests.

  I nod, but then my mind quickly snags on something I need answered.

  “Wait, just tell me. Why do you feel that relationships are pointless?”

  He stares directly at me, and I try to imagine what he sees. A friend? Someone vulnerable he has to hold himself back from? Or does he see something more?

  “Because, in my experience, they just are.”

  “In what way?”

  “Teagan, really?”

  “You don’t have to answer. I just wanted to know. It’s not a big deal.”

  While he seems to still be assessing me, I hold my breath. Then he opens his mouth.

  “I’ve never wanted to settle down with someone. Forcing it to happen is unfair to me and whomever I’m with. I’ve tried to feel something more, especially since Zander and Declan have found themselves with a ball and chain, or at least, in Dec’s case, a soon-to-be ball and chain.”

  I inwardly gasp at that piece of intel. Is Declan planning to propose to Sasha soon?

  “But I feel nothing,” he continues, giving me a one-shoulder shrug. “I feel horny, I fuck, and then I feel nothing.”

  I try to take in his words without feeling disgust, but I don’t hide it well.

  “I’m not trying to make the women I’m with sound like they’re nothing. We both get something out of it, and I’m always upfront. I’m not interested in more, and they know that. Do some feel like they can change my mind after a hot night with them? Sure. If I knew who those women were ahead of time, I’d stay clear and save them the hurt and me the hassle. But, for the majority, they’re happy with a night of multiple orgasms.”

  “Multiple?” I squeak out, hating that my surprise is so obvious. I should have played that cool.

  “You’ve never gotten off more than once?” he gasps out, freezing in shock.

  How about I would be lucky to even get off once?

  “No,” I finally say, wondering why he suddenly appears to be in pain. “Why are you looking at me like that? It’s not the end of the world.”

  “Of course it is! Now all I want to do is give you half a dozen orgasms and set your world on fire.”

  My mouth drops open. I’m torn between wanting that desperately and recalling his words earlier about losing interest once he’s had sex.

  Maybe having Joey for one night would be worth the heartache later, but I’m not willing to risk it. Not when I’m just starting to find myself.

  For over two years, I felt lost, afloat in my own life. Now I have Joey as a friend. I have Harvey. I have Sasha, Ava, and Cynthia. I won’t risk my even footing for anything, not even a passionate night with Joey.

  “That won’t ever happen.”

  He begins to nod, but then his attention shoots back to me, surprise on his face. “You’re serious.”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “You’re saying you will never have sex with me. Why?” he demands, sounding offended.

  “Were you not present for the conversation we just had? Besides, we’re friends, right?”

  “Of course we are.”

  I’m pleased by how adamant he is about that.

  “I haven’t had many friends in recent years. That is more important.”

  “You’d think differently if you had a night with me.” He sounds cocky, but his cheeky grin tells me he isn’t being serious. At least, not too serious.

  “Perhaps, but I’m never going to find out.”

  “What do you mean when you say you haven’t had many friends?”

  I wait for the anger to flare up, for the betrayal to hit me like it usually does. Instead, I feel nothing.

  “I just lost most in the divorce,” I tell him, not even bothering to explain.

  He looks like he is going to ask more when his phone beeps. He quickly checks it, leaning back from me to grab it off the edge of the couch and giving me some breathing room. I didn’t even notice we had gotten closer to each other again.

  “Clayton is on the move early. Harvey thinks something might be up.”

  “You have to go, then?” I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. Be safe.”

  He snorts, and I stop myself from getting up to look back over at him.

  “What?”

  “I haven’t had anyone tell me that since I lived with my parents and was taking a girl out on a date.”

  “I don’t mean that in a sexual way, though you should always be safe then, too. I just meant you should be safe while you’re out.”

  “I know what you meant. It’s still funny.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “It just feels weird for you to say that to me.”

  “Good weird or bad weird?”

  He snorts again. “I doubt anything with you would be bad weird.”

  “Not even if I said I had a thing for clowns and bright purple wigs?” I throw out, not even sure where that came from.

  His mouth drops open for a second in surprise before he bursts into laughter. “It’s a little scary how quickly you came up with that. But, I just mean, it sounds domestic of you to say that. Like we’re together.”

  “We are together. We live together, and we’re friends. Therefore, I get to care about your wellbeing. Besides, if anything happens to you, I’ll have to fight Harvey for Karma, and I’m not sure I’d win.”

  Joey laughs again. I admit it would be easy to get addicted to seeing him like this. I have the urge to make him laugh every day.

  “Right, I’ll be sure to make an appointment with my lawyer at my earliest convenience to put in writing that you get Karma in the event of my death.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” I say on a smile that’s a little forced since I don’t like thinking about something like that happening to Joey.

  While Joey gets ready to head out, I quickly clean up the glasses and plates. Then, with a quick wave to me, a scratch behind the ears for Karma, Joey is out the door.

  I worry about both him and Harvey being out there, working the kind of case they are. Someone else should be doing this, even if it’s personal after what happened with Ava and Zander. But no matter how I think of it, I can’t imagine anyone more dedicated to finding answers than Joey and the rest of his gang.

  I just hope they find their answers soon so things will calm down.

  An hour after Joey leaves, I get ready for bed. It isn’t until I’m under the covers that my phone beeps.

&
nbsp; When I open the message from Joey, a smile already on my lips in anticipation for what he has sent me, I laugh at the picture of myself holding a new sign saying: I like big clowns and I cannot lie. He has placed a red spot over my nose and given me a curly purple wig, as well.

  My huge smile doesn’t leave me, not even when I finally succumb to sleep.

  It isn’t lost on me how much more I laugh and smile nowadays since Joey and his friends crashed into it.

  Why do I get the feeling that no matter how much I try to shield myself from it, I’m already doomed for heartbreak with him?

  Chapter 11

  A few days later, smiling after a message I just looked at from Joey, I’m disrupted by Wynona, a coworker.

  “There is a seriously hot guy waiting out front for you. Are you holding out on us?”

  My first thought is of Joey, so I might smile mysteriously and have a little bounce in my step when I leave the babies’ room and make my way over to the front desk.

  When I see who it is, though, I stumble in my haste to slow down.

  Hart Clayton is standing by the window, his back facing me, hands in his pockets, making his jacket ride up high enough that his ass sticks out. Already, I feel the girls watching us through the gaps in the drawings from the kids over the glass wall, trying to catch a glimpse of him, and likely us together.

  “Hart,” I say, my throat drying up almost instantly as nerves attack me.

  Why is he here? What does he want? Should I be screaming?

  “Teagan, so lovely to see you again,” he says, striding toward me and placing his hands over both my arms, holding me in place before giving me a kiss on the cheek.

  It all feels very … civilized and routine. Like we are good enough friends.

  Except, we aren’t, and he’s never kissed me like that before in the seven or so months I have known him. What is he playing at?

  “I didn’t expect to see you in here,” I finally manage to get out, leaning back from him as far as I can since he keeps a hold of my arms. His grip isn’t painful, but it isn’t light, either.

  “I know. I don’t have any children … yet.” He winks.