The essay itself was good. Reece didn’t notice any glaring issues with grammar. The topic, on the other hand, made his chest ache. It was titled “The Invisible Jenkins.” Every paragraph detailed how she was so unsure of what she wanted to do with her life. She’d seen her big brother and sister master their careers, and she could barely pick her cereal in the morning.
How could he not have known his sister was floundering? He knew she had more attitude lately, but he thought that was normal, considering she was almost twenty and stuck at home with their mom. He loved his mother, but she was enough to handle once a week at family dinner and a couple of random drop-ins to help her around the house.
He continued looking at the essay, trying to piece together what to do. To come up with something to say that was a cliché that she’d roll her eyes at. But he was out of his depth. This was something that his mom or Erin would handle with grace.
Instead, he said, “Andie . . .” He trailed off. “I had no idea.”
She just shrugged. “Do you think this essay is enough? I know I’ve gone only a couple of times to the shelter to volunteer, but my high school grades were good, and I’ve held down a steady job.”
“It’s more than enough.” He paused. His sister felt like she’d been living in their shadows for years. Reece had been too busy with his own stuff to even notice, and it killed him. “You’re more than enough, kid.”
Andie rolled tear-filled eyes, some spilling down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell Erin or Mom. Because they’re the ones who are supposed to be all mushy. Not you.”
Too much family time must have been rubbing off on him. “It’s not mushy. It’s the truth, and you’d best start believing it because no one is ever going to give a bigger shit about whatever you do with your life than you.”
His sister was quiet for a moment, her expression softening. “Was that supposed to be like a Rocky pep talk?”
“No clue. Did it work?”
She shrugged. “Kinda.”
“Good. Show me this college application.” He set the computer back on her desk, avoiding the Hershey’s wrappers and scribbled-on pieces of paper. From his vantage point, it looked to be a list of pros and cons of the colleges.
She swiveled it to face her, typing in a password, and then positioned it back in front of Reece. For the first time in a while, she looked excited, bouncing on her toes as she waited for him to take a look.
“Have an idea on a major?”
“I’m thinking of going the law-school route. But first I have to take all the prerequisites.”
“Always did like to argue.”
Andie shoved him. “You’re one to talk. I saw you the other week with Sloane.”
Not one of his finer moments. Sloane deserved to be treated better than that. Reece decided to ignore her comment and said, “Your application is solid. They’d be stupid not to take you.”
“I blew it when I gave up my scholarship.”
He’d never been to a four-year university, but he’d like to think they’d be forgiving of mistakes like this. The older Reece got, the more he realized he’d known absolutely nothing in his teens. “You didn’t blow it. You know how many kids change their mind about college?”
She shook her head.
“Tons. Just explain to them that you were going through a rough time, and I’m sure they’ll be understanding.”
Since when was he the go-to for advice? First Sloane, now his sister.
“You’ll be fine, Andie.”
“I just want to get out so bad.” Desperation flashed in her eyes. He wished he could help her more, but aside from driving to the university and threatening the dean of admissions—which was a decidedly horrible idea—there wasn’t much else to do but wait it out with her.
“I know. And I’m here for you. And so are Mom and Erin. Even if they’re both overbearing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ya think?”
“You going to hit ‘Submit’?” He looked at the clock. “It’s due in five minutes.”
She worried her lip. “Yeah. Just freaking out a little.”
“I know what you mean. You’ve got this, though.” It seemed like his sister was finally getting her life together. He hoped that she was able to get the opportunity to prove herself. To build on this tiny bit of confidence.
She took a deep breath and hit the “Submit” button. “Guess I’ll know if it was enough in a couple of months.”
“You are always going to be enough. Doesn’t matter what a stupid university says.”
Andie gave a watery smile. “Thanks, Reece.”
He wrapped his sister in a hug. He had to admit, it felt nice to be the one people turned to in a time of need.
Chapter Thirteen
The next day, Sloane pulled her car into Reece’s apartment complex and cut the engine. She took a deep breath and stretched her neck from side to side, working up the nerve to see him. She’d expected to find him on the fifth floor, sitting in that drab place he called home. Really, the place didn’t even have a throw blanket. Not a decorative pillow in sight. The thought made her shiver. She’d come from parents who believed in filling the house with trinkets from their travels. Globes bought from their trip to India, intricate carvings from Guatemala, pictures of the two of them with locals. She’d adopted the same sentiment for her own apartment. She’d filled it with plush rugs, rustic frames, and antique end tables salvaged from secondhand stores.
Instead, she found Reece shirtless in the parking lot. It was an uncharacteristically warm day for December, the temperatures touching into the high sixties. He held a garden hose, dousing the Jeep. As far as she knew, Reece had three different cars. He had his truck that he drove around most of the time—at least that was the one parked in the Jenkinses’ driveway whenever she’d visited for dinner. Then there was the Jeep that was from this century. And then this Jeep, which had seen better days. Pale green, rust in spots, a few dents in the quarter panels. It reminded her of ones that were taken on safaris. When they were kids, she remembered him being obsessed with the brand, even going as far as taking pics with ones they found downtown. Weird kid.
Suds slid down the panels of the car and fell to the ground in a steady stream.
But Sloane’s attention wasn’t focused on the car. Her gaze was glued to Reece’s chest. She’d seen it before, when he’d been covered in blood and in need of stitches. But that was at work, and she made a point to never ogle when on a shift. Now, her handiwork was an angry red scar along his clavicle.
Reece was all muscle. His broad shoulders glistened in the afternoon sun, and beads of water dribbled down his pecs, moving toward his abs.
Her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth. On anyone else, this would be a glorious sight. She’d welcome it. Snap a pic of it to send to her group chat with Madison and Erin to ogle. A powerful body like that taking her from behind, rough fingers gripping her hips as she fought to stay upright, hands clutching her headboard. Yes, she wanted someone to take charge. To make her lose control.
“Gonna stare? Or do you want to help out?” He flung a sponge at Sloane, and it smacked her in the chest with a wet thwap. Beads of water pooled on her shirt and drizzled down the inside of her bra. Just lovely.
She chucked the sponge back at him and pulled her shirt away from her skin. “Sorry, was zoned out. I think your innate paleness momentarily blinded me.”
He smiled and shook his head, continuing to wash the car. Reece was on the paler side, but by no means worthy of shielding her eyes with sunglasses.
“What’s with this car, anyway? It looks like it needs to go in a museum.”
“She didn’t mean that, girl.” He patted the Jeep lovingly. “It’s history, Smurfette. Can’t compete with good ol’ American-made cars.”
She moved to the bucket and grabbed another sponge and started wiping down the back quarter panel, to give her hands something to do. Her gaze kept darti
ng to the basketball shorts slung low on Reece’s hips. The dusting of hair starting below his belly button and disappearing into the fabric.
She swallowed hard and turned to the very dirty wheel. She scrubbed, harder than she needed to. Anything to get that last thought out of her mind.
Just as she was about to stand, a spray of water hit her back, and she jumped up, shrieking as the cold water crawled down her spine. She straightened, sucking in a coarse breath. Now both her front and back were soaked.
“Oh no you didn’t.” She pulled her shirt from her back, the material suctioning to her skin as soon as she let go.
“Oops, I guess I missed.” And there was that shrug again. His lips twisted into a grin, and he looked like he was ready to take another shot at her.
“You’re so full of crap.” She charged at him, and just as he jerked the hose back, she grabbed the bucket at his feet and drenched Reece from head to toe.
The material of his shorts molded to his body, leaving no detail untouched. His thick thighs. The V of his torso. The curve of his hips. The massive . . . Oh wow.
Her gaze whipped to Reece’s face.
“See something you like?”
Her cheeks heated. Did she like it? Very much so. She just wished that his body was attached to someone else. One that she didn’t have such a muddled past with. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“For future reference, your eyes give you away. Might want to try looking away next time.”
She flung her sponge at him, and it hit him square in the face.
He let out a deep laugh that went straight to the space between her thighs, and then he beamed at her, his lips twisting in a smirk that made everything clench.
“You really want to play like this, Sloane?”
She cocked her brow in response. And within the span of a breath, he’d taken aim with the garden hose and pushed on the nozzle. The spray made a direct hit to her stomach, drenching her clothes completely.
The cold water made her skin prickle. Her lungs were suddenly devoid of oxygen. And yet she was smiling like an idiot. If it had been anyone else wielding that hose, she’d admit defeat and retreat for the nearest towel. Somehow, with it being Reece, it had the opposite effect. Made her want to march right in front of him. To do something that would wipe that smug look off his face. “You’re going to pay for that!” And with that, she charged him. He grabbed her with both arms and threw her over his shoulder. She landed against his back with a lung-crushing thud, her cheek plastering to his warm skin. From this vantage point, she noted the curve of his spine, the freckles and ink. A tattoo that read Love will tear us apart. The one thing she craved was also a warning permanently inked onto his skin.
Blood rushed to her head, and she smacked his back, trying to wiggle free. “Let me down, you oaf.”
“Now, is that any way to talk to the person who literally has your life in their hands?”
“Spare me.”
A jolt of surprise shot through her as Reece’s palm bit into the back of her leg. Sparks of pleasure exploded between her thighs, and everything clenched. A mix of a moan and a cry escaped past her lips before she could hold it back.
His hand stilled on the back of her thigh, the touch warm, heat radiating from his palm. “You like that?” Even though she couldn’t see him, she couldn’t deny the desire laced in those words.
Did she like it? Yes. Too much.
“Let me down,” she said again, her voice shaking.
This time Reece obliged, pulling her over his shoulder. He let her down slowly, inch by inch, her body rolling over his hard muscles. Every speck of skin prickled, her shorts rubbing against her aching center as she slid from Reece’s chest, to his stomach, and then to his thickening cock. The last one made her breath hitch, and she was aware of how badly she wanted to be taken here in the middle of a parking lot. She was fully clothed, but everything about this felt so intimate. So intense.
Once her feet were planted on the ground, she chanced a glance his way and found him looking down at her, eyes wide, nostrils flaring.
“Next time you decide to spray someone, make sure they have a change of clothes.” She broke eye contact with him and looked down at her soaked T-shirt and shorts. They were plastered to her skin, and everything in her screamed to cover her arms over her torso, to hide every imperfection. Instead, she squared her shoulders. “Fake it until you believe it” was another one of her mantras, and she was sticking to it.
He prowled closer to her, his gaze starting at her eyes and going lower, lower, lower. His pupils dilated, and a grunt escaped from his parted lips. “I can help you out with that.”
Those words promised a lot of things.
Yes, Reece, please help me out of these wet clothes. I’m sure your plethora of muscles can act as a sufficient means of keeping me warm.
She took a step back, her back bumping into the Jeep. She was pinned between Reece and the car. Her first thought should have been to give him a slap on the face. Instead, she wanted that face in other places. Spots he had no business being. She swallowed hard. And then he took one final step toward her, closing the gap between them.
“In your dreams, Jenkins.”
“Maybe so.” Damn him and those cute lines that formed around his mouth when his lips pulled back into a wide grin, which showcased his dimples. “But I meant I have some clothes upstairs you can borrow.”
Oh. Maybe they were on two separate wavelengths. “You think anything of yours will actually fit me?” This was basically like asking a Smurf to fit in Dwayne Johnson’s clothes. There wasn’t enough drawstring or elastic in the world to make that happen.
“I’m sure we can find something.” He stepped back, and the sudden rush of air hitting the front of her body sent a shiver rushing through her. She shook it off. This was Reece. She didn’t have those types of feelings for him, especially when he did nothing but piss her off. And she couldn’t forget the fact that he only ever went on first dates. Her friends and coworkers were living proof.
He quickly squirted off the remaining suds from his Jeep and then grabbed the bucket and motioned for her to follow him upstairs.
Sloane’s shoes squeaked as she followed him up the stairs to the fifth story.
Peaches ran to greet her when they opened the door to his apartment. The first thing she noticed was how clean it was. She’d always assumed that he would be messy, the kind of person to leave week-old pizza boxes strewn about. But everything was in perfect order. Her bowl and spoon in her own sink made her look like a slob in comparison.
The second thing she noticed was that it was really clean because . . . there wasn’t really anything to clean up. Because just like when she’d visited his apartment last year, the apartment was still bare bones. Like he was ready to move out at any minute. She’d expect to open up the hall closet and find packed boxes.
She gestured to the vertical blinds over the sliding glass door. “An entire year since I’ve been here and you haven’t even managed to buy curtains for the place?”
“I happen to be a fan of clean geometric shapes and the color beige. And what is with everyone hawking me about it?”
She started to shiver and folded her arms over her chest. “Because it doesn’t even look lived in.”
“I like it this way. It keeps it simple. No cleanup.” He rummaged through a linen closet at the end of the hallway and handed her a fluffy black towel.
“Kinda like your relationships.” Her teeth chattered as she wrapped the towel around her.
“Exactly.”
His smile wavered. Maybe she’d hit a nerve. She reminded herself that this was the same man who’d been a total asshole to her. Right now, all she needed to focus on was getting warm. “Clothes?”
He led her to his bedroom. White walls. Black bedspread. One pillow in the middle of the bed. And . . . holy crap. The Psycho shower-scene music played like a soundtrack in her head. Because not one, but—she silently cataloged t
he number—ten pictures of Blake Shelton surrounded his bed, each one propped up by a chair or a small table.
Oh, this was good. Too good. She pulled out her phone and snapped a pic. Yeah, that photo would be going in her group chat with Erin and Madison.
“Does your mom know you have a thing for Blake?”
“I’m more of a Chris Hemsworth kind of guy.”
“Because he’s big and broody like you?” The lanky guys of the world were more her type, but something about Reece, in his T-shirt stretched across his chest, each ridge of his muscle clearly defined under the fabric, did things to her.
His lips twitched. “If you must know, Peaches is afraid of Blake Shelton.”
She crossed her arms in response. Because, come on. A dog afraid of a celebrity it’d never met?
“There’s no shame, Reece. He was voted sexiest man alive.”
Reece whistled for Peaches. When she looked to the doorway, Peaches cowered, shaking a little as she eyed one of the pictures of Blake.
Sloane just stared at the dog. What the ever-loving fudge was this?
She’d had dogs with quirks before. One of the huskies she fostered liked to stick his tongue out. Another dog would only eat out of a certain food dish. But this was a new one.
“So let me get this straight. You’re using fear tactics on a dog because . . . ?”
“She’s a terror and wants to sleep in my bed.” He shot her a look like this was normal behavior for a dog owner.
“I see. You’ve had her almost three weeks, and you can’t get her to stay off your bed?”
He shrugged. “This has worked so far.”
He disappeared into the closet and came back moments later with another pair of basketball shorts and a Seattle Seahawks shirt.
“Thank you.”
“Bathroom is second door on your right.”
She nodded and booked it to the bathroom, kicking her shoes onto the checkered black-and-white tile. Her shorts and shirt fell to the floor with a wet thwop. She stared at Reece’s clothes on the vanity. Dark blue tile and crisp white grout. Toothbrush tucked neatly into a plastic holder. Next to it was a razor, Band-Aids, and mouthwash all in a neat row. She nudged the Band-Aid box just to add a little disorder to the scene. That seemed to be the common urge when it came to dealing with Reece. To create disorder in his perfectly crafted world. And now that she thought of that, it made her feel like an asshole.
Up In Flames (Flirting with Fire Book 2) Page 13