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  “Will do.”

  I slide into my car, plans already forming. From what I can tell by just observing, the Palmers are doing some sort of massive cleaning or renovating. Julia has been coming out of the house every day with bags upon bags of trash and their garbage bins have been overflowing. I’m going to take the opportunity to see if she’s as attracted to me as I am to her.

  Nothing too forward, I’m just going to wash my car. Without a shirt. And hope that she comes out with one of those trash bags and is stopped in her tracks. Maybe I’ll even take the chance to say hello. After that, who knows.

  But I’m done waiting. There’s something telling me that I need to get to know this woman, and I go after what I want. And I don’t stop until I’ve accomplished the goal or it becomes impossible. And from what I see, romancing Julia Palmer is very possible.

  3

  Julia

  My brain is a puddle of mush. After an entire working day of sifting through papers that have been kept far longer than they should have, my head is swimming. After I went through all of my high school papers—and only kept one that I was particularly proud of—I spent the rest of the day helping Mom go through old case files and financial records. They’re pretty well organized but I don’t think they’ve been sorted through since I was a kid.

  Don’t ask me why the office is one of the places that needs to be cleaned, since as far as I know the gala guests won’t be invited in here, but my mother is insistent that it’s important and that everything has to be in order.

  We’ve got about six trash bags full of paper ready to go outside, but on the upside I think the office is now the room closest to completion. There’s only a couple more cabinets left to go through, and I’m going to make sure that she actually goes through them tomorrow. I’m hoping that being able to cross something off and see that a room is finished will help give her a sense of accomplishment and motivation in the task.

  But for right now, I’m taking out the trash and then I’m eating dinner and doing something that doesn’t involve sorting paper. Maybe I’ll watch a movie.

  Fuck, these bags of paper are heavy. I can barely get one off the ground, but I’ll manage. Our trash cans are around the side of the house so it’s far easier for me to go out the front door for these bags. But as soon as I step onto the porch, I nearly drop it.

  Edward is outside. Not only is he outside but he’s washing his car, and he’s shirtless. In the light of the late afternoon, he’s lit up like he’s in a goddamn music video, all wet and sudsy. Holy shit. The image that I’d conjured up in my mind of what he might look like naked from the waist up was not even fucking close. You don’t get a body like that without putting in the work and damn, he has put in the work.

  Perfectly sculpted chest and abs, that vee that disappears beneath his basketball shots that makes me want to see what’s underneath them. I realize that I’m staring and possibly drooling. Down girl. Down. But that’s hard to tell myself when he throws a bucket of water across that gorgeous silver car and the backsplash hits his abs and tempts me to run my fingers down them.

  He looks up at me, smiles and waves. “Hi, Julia.”

  I swallow. That voice is richer than I remembered and it feels like fingers being drawn down my spine. “Hey, Edward.”

  Hoisting the bag, I make my way down the steps and over to the trash cans. Why is this so heavy? It’s just paper for God’s sake. I try very hard not to stare at the way Edward is scrubbing the hood of the car as I struggle to toss it in the can, and then leave it on the ground cause they’re already basically full anyway. As heavy as these are, I’m glad that we have six. That means I get to come out here five more times and see that gorgeous body in action.

  I glance up at him, and he’s looking at me, and I almost trip over the trash cans. My skin is on fire with a blush as I go to get the second bag. What the hell is wrong with me? He’s hot, and yes, you want to fuck his brains out until you’re screaming, but he shouldn’t turn you into a clumsy idiot.

  But a clumsy idiot I am, and when I step out the front door and see him standing at the bottom of my porch steps I skid to a stop. “Can I help you with that?” he asks. “They look heavy.”

  He doesn’t wait before climbing up the few steps and lifting it out of my hands. The heat from his body is so close that I have to ball my hands into fists in order to not reach out and touch him. “Sure,” I say. “I’ll grab more.”

  “I can come in and grab them,” he offers.

  I hold out a hand. “That’s okay. The house is kind of a mess right now; I’ll bring them out.”

  He nods, the motion a mirror of the one he gave me this morning, and I run to grab the third bag and the forth. He takes them when I deposit them on the porch and lifts the bags like they’re weightless. I admit to watching him longer than I should before getting the next bag so I can watch the way his biceps and back flex and move as he walks. God, a girl could pass out looking at him.

  I grab the last two bags and haul them out. “I can take one,” I say to him, but he grabs both.

  “I don’t mind.”

  He carries a bag in each hand, away from his body. God, he could probably lift me like a feather, and suddenly my mind is filled with images of him lifting me up and slamming me against the wall of my house and kissing me. Yes, please.

  He drops the final bags and turns to me. The sun sparkles in the water still on his skin and he’s sparkling like one of those vampires from the romance novels. I think I’m finally starting to understand the appeal. “I’ve noticed you guys doing this a lot. Are you renovating?” he asks.

  I try to stop the shiver that his voice causes to go down my spine. I am not entirely successful. “Not really,” I say. “Mom is starting a charity and she’s having this big party here in a couple weeks to kick things off. So she’s decided that now is the time to purge everything in the house that’s been collecting here for our entire lives.” I smile, because when you put it like that, it is a little funny.

  Edward smiles too. “That explains all the trash then.”

  I look over at the pile, which is almost higher than the fence. It’s been piled like that for days. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think that you’d be able to see the trash. None of it has fallen in your yard, has it?”

  He’s still smiling, and I swear, I’m more dazzled by his smile than the sun shining in my eyes. “No, not at all. I only meant I was curious why you were throwing away so much. That’s all.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  We stand in silence for a moment, and I feel the need to clear the air. Say something, anything, before I throw myself at him. “This morning. I’m sorry for staring.”

  Something deeper enters his gaze. Something a little sharper. His voice is soft. “I don’t mind if you do.”

  I hear the sound of the door open behind me. “Julia?”

  I blush even though I’m not in any kind of compromising position whatsoever. “Over here, Mom.”

  She peeks around the corner and her eyes immediately focus on Edward, her mouth turning down in distaste. “You were taking a while,” she said. “Just checking.”

  “Just a little chat with the neighbors,” Edward says lightly.

  Mom doesn’t take the bait. She stalks inside without another word, and I give Edward an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  I swallow, distracted by a lone drop of water slowly gliding down the columns of his throat to his collarbone. “What were you saying?”

  “That I don’t mind if you do.”

  “Do what?” The words are out of my mouth before I remember what we were talking about, and then I do. Oh.

  Edward leans a little closer. “Stare.”

  “Why—”

  “Dinner is ready, Julia!” My mother’s voice calls, followed by the sharp slap of the screen door shutting. I bite my lip in frustration. We just finished cleaning the office. There’s no way in hell that dinner is ready,
because we already made a plan to order pizza. She just doesn’t like me talking to Edward.

  I smile at him again. “I have to go.”

  He nods like he understands. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon.”

  “I’d like that,” I say, before turning my back on one of the most glorious sights in the world and heading inside. Fuck, I want to climb that man like a tree. I think it would be a fun climb.

  Mom is waiting just inside, arms cross, tapping her foot, the stereotypical vision of a disapproving mother. “Did you change your mind about ordering pizza?”

  “No,” she waves a hand. “It’s on its way. I just wanted you inside.”

  Called it. “Why?”

  “I saw the way he was looking at you. I don’t like it. Be careful with him, Jules. Don’t get involved.”

  “Mom, he helped me take out the trash, and we were talking for five minutes. I think you’re reading a lot into that.”

  She frowns. “That’s all it takes for them to get their hooks into you sometimes. I know you haven’t had a lot of experience, but they only think with their dicks. No matter how good you think they are, they’re only looking for the next thing. Never forget that.”

  I would very much like to know what Edward’s dick thinks of me. And if I have the chance to find out, I’m going to take it. But Mom is still looking at me like she’s expecting me to agree with her. I don’t.

  After a long day of sorting and being interrupted with my thoughts of Edward, not once but twice today, I’m done. “I won’t have a chance to forget it,” I say. “You certainly won’t let me. Now can we set the table for dinner?”

  “I’m just trying to protect you, sweetie.”

  I sigh. “I appreciate that, Mom. But I’m an adult. I can make my own choices. Including whether to date someone.” Making my way into the kitchen before she can stop me, I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ve heard the same thing since I was a kid. Men are scum. Only think with their genitals. Nothing more. But that hasn’t been my experience, and I don’t want to live my life with that kind of vitriol. Mom can be as bitter as she wants about dad leaving her for someone else—that’s her right, and I’m sure that it sucked.

  I’m sure it’s one of the most painful things that she’s ever experienced. But it’s not my heartbreak, and I’m not going to carry it for her. If I’m going to live here, and help her, she has to understand that. I set the table with two plates and napkins, and when my mom comes into the kitchen ten minutes later, she acts like nothing in the world is wrong.

  4

  Julia

  The next day passes in relative silence. Mom isn’t thrilled with my ‘outburst’ as she keeps mumbling about, and I’m still annoyed with her for interrupting my conversation with Edward. It was a conversation that I would be very interested in continuing. He told me he didn’t mind my staring, and I want to know why. Is he interested? Cause if he is, he’s never shown it before.

  Though it was pretty obvious last night that I was distracted by him. I couldn’t wait to go to bed, because heat and arousal was moving under my skin and I needed to get it out. As soon as I shut the lights out, I picked up where I left off, and my body was more than happy to oblige. I came within minutes, imagining Edward’s hard, wet body pressed against mine. That scenario I imagined in my head where he swept me off my feet, slammed me against the wall and kissed me.

  That’s all it took for me to be gasping in pleasure and shaking, almost wishing that it hadn’t gone so fast. I didn’t even need to break out my vibrator to help out. Fuck. And this morning, I set my alarm early, with the sole purpose of looking out my window, only to realize that it was Saturday, and Edward wouldn’t be going to work today.

  But to my delight, he was still outside, already working in his yard before the heat of the sun took over the day. And like he knew that I would be watching, he looked up at me when I looked down at him, and he smiled.

  God, that smile makes me weak.

  I’ve been thinking about it all day.

  Thankfully, I managed to get my mother to finish the office. So one room among the many is done. Now all I have to do is convince her that only the downstairs needs to be gone through before the gala, and we’ll be set. If she starts pulling clothes out of my closet, I’m going to lose my shit.

  I should be less hard on her. I do love my mother—I do. She’s done a lot for me over the years. But I’m also an adult, and I’d like to be treated as one. Today is the first day during this home clean up that I’ve actually felt like we’ve made some progress, and I’m happy about that.

  Now I’m eating leftover pizza when she comes in, dressed in a suit that I haven’t seen her wear in probably a year. “I’ve got a dinner tonight with some potential donors. You’ll be all right?”

  I lift the piece of pizza in salute. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.” She leans across the kitchen island and kisses me on the forehead. “I’ll see you later. Love you.”

  I watch her leave, and I can still see the high powered lawyer that she’s always been. When she puts on a suit, this badass walk just comes out and suddenly it looks like she can take on the fucking world. It’s in these moments when I see the mother I’ve always known and not the lost one who’s cleaning the house.

  I’ve tried to ask her what happened. What brought on this change? But she’s only changed the subject. Hopefully she’ll tell me when she’s ready, because I want to understand, and I want to help.

  In the meantime, it’s nice to have the house to myself for the evening. I grab the rest of the pizza and heat it up before parking myself on the couch in the living room. I’m working my way through a new season of my favorite baking show, which is soothing and charming and not at all stressful.

  But as soon as I’m sitting on the couch, I know that I’m not long for this world. A summer rain has started outside. Actually coming down pretty hard. But the sound on the roof is nice, and after a long day of cleaning, I’m pretty tired. As I watch the contestants on the baking show struggle to make a three-tier wedding cake in about a third of the time it takes to make one of those properly, I find myself drifting.

  The rain really sounds amazing, and it’s getting louder. And louder still. Am I dreaming? The water sounds like it’s pouring inside right behind me. What?

  I open my eyes, fighting the exhaustion and turn around and look into the foyer and see water pouring through a crack in the ceiling. Holy fuck. I am not asleep anymore. I leap off the couch, and run over to the leak. The water is already spreading across the floor and it doesn’t show any signs of slowing as it pours through the ceiling. Where the hell is it coming from?

  That doesn’t matter, I need to stop it. Get a bucket. Anything. Do I even have a bucket?

  I sprint up the stairs and run to the linen closet and grab every towel that we have and take it with me. I spread them on the floor and there’s so much water that they’re saturated as soon as they go down. There’s no way that just a little rain caused this, right? Shit, there’s a giant hole in the entryway. Mom is going to freak out if there’s a hole in the ceiling for the gala.

  But I have to stop the water first.

  Dish pan. I grab the pan from by the sink and quickly dump out the one we use to keep cleaning supplies in before putting them underneath the leak. Those are going to fill up soon. It’s almost eight o’clock, and I don’t have time to call a service. Before I can question myself, I’m pulling on my shoes and running out into the rain, ignoring the fact that it’s pouring and dashing across the lawn to Edward’s house. The lights are on, so I know he’s home even though it’s a Saturday night. I can only hope that he’s alone and that I’m not interrupting anything.

  I’m almost soaked through by the time I cross the distance to his porch and ring the bell. “Come on,” I say under my breath. “Please.” After a minute I ring the bell again. Maybe he didn’t hear me the first time. If not, I can try another neighbor.

  I hear footsteps a second bef
ore the door swings open, and Edward is there. Once again he’s shirtless, chest heaving like he’s been running, and glistening with sweat. I get distracted by the shine of his abs and the closeness before I remember why I’m here in the first place. “I’m sorry to bother you,” I say quickly. “There’s water pouring through my roof and I don’t have enough buckets. My mother’s out at dinner dining with potential donors.”

  Edward nods. “Let me grab a shirt.”

  He ducks inside, and leaves the door ajar. While I’m waiting, I peek inside. From the small area I can see, his house is nice and well decorated. Comfortable. It occurs to me that in all the years we’ve lived next to each other that I don’t think I’ve ever been inside his house. He’s been in mine—a long time ago when my mother had the neighborhood over for dinner—but I mostly saw him outside. The occasional neighborhood block parties and when my friends and I would spend time outside.

  Edward appears again with a large bucket and a toolbox, this time with a shirt on. It’s really a pity. “Let’s go.”

  We’re out in the rain again, and he’s soaked through too. He doesn’t hesitate to step through the door when I open it, and his eyes go straight to the leak. “Shit.”

  “I have no idea where it’s coming from,” I tell him. “I fell asleep on the couch and the sound woke me up.”

  He shakes his head slowly. “That can’t be just the rain. Or at least not this rain. That has to have been built up. Or a pipe.”

  “God, she’s going to freak out,” I say as he puts his bucket under the leak and grabs one of mine and throws the water outside.

  “Do you have a ladder?”

  “Yeah, I’ll grab it.” Thankfully it’s in our little maintenance closet downstairs. The water looks like it’s slowing a bit now. Thank heavens. Edward takes the ladder from me and sets it up. The water from the ceiling is pouring onto him, but he doesn’t seem to care that his shirt and jeans are soaked through.