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"Oh, Lorikeet!" The pinched-face woman gushes; some champagne spills from her glass when she smacks me on the arm. "Congratulations on your engagement! I cried my eyes out at the parade when Dezmond proposed! It was so beautiful."

"Thanks," I mumble.

"Show me the ring!" she demands eagerly.

My eyes bounce to search for Jordan, but I don't see him anywhere. I put my hand over my fingers. "Uh, it's getting re-sized. Sorry. Mom, it's already four. Why don't you head home?"

She stands, saying, "Good idea. Do you need help cleaning this up?" She gestures at the kitchen covered in empty glasses, plates, and bits of food among the flower arrangements.

"No, I'm sure Jordan hired a cleaning crew. He prepared everything else."

"Yes," Mrs. Pomoran agrees eagerly, "he was so generous to do all of this for you and his son. If I wasn't married to my good for nothing husband, I'd snatch that man up in a wink."

My smile twitches. "Mmhm. Thanks for coming."

The rest of the partygoers get the hint. In minutes they're slipping through the front door, giving me hugs, well wishes, thanking me for the great party. No one asks if I'm sure about marrying Dezmond. Not even old classmates, though I can tell by the way a few hesitate in their farewells that theywantto ask why I'm doing it.

No one has the guts to put me on the spot, thank god. The last one drives off, leaving me alone with the chaotic remains of the day's event. Grabbing my hips, I frown at the kitchen, deciding what to do.Where did Jordan go? Maybe he ran upstairs to avoid saying bye to everyone. Lucky bastard got away when he could."Jordan?" I call from the bottom of the stairs. No answer.

Frowning thoughtfully, I put my foot on the first step. I don't have a reason to ask him about the cleaning crew, he's a grown man who can figure out how to handle the mess. But somehow, I'm compelled to touch base with him. I never wanted this party but exiting without saying goodbye feels wrong.

When I get to the top of the stairs, I notice his bedroom door is open. I can see his bed with the two ties I didn't choose still lying on the mattress. My body flushes from the memory. All day I tried to forget he'd kissed me. He never let me. The way he'd held me, feeding me the strawberry … the memory sends a wave of heat between my legs. His presence was constant all day. Until now.

One more step, craning my neck, I confirm the bathroom is open and empty as well.Not in there.I start to call his name a second time, until I see something else. The door that was locked the first night I arrived is now open, if only slightly. Light shines from that crack and turns the opposite wall golden-yellow.

Unable to help myself, I head towards the light. "Jordan?" I ask softly, touching the round knob, tugging the door open the rest of the way. My breath catches in my throat at what I find inside. It's bigger than I expected, the ceiling glowing from recessed lighting. But a large floor lamp to my right casts the biggest glow. That's what I saw in the hallway.

In front of me is a massive drafting table. There's a piece of blank paper pinned next to a tray with an array of pencils and other tools, but I don't care about those. The real treasure is on a shelf to the left of the table, next to a floor to ceiling window that faces the ocean.

Six miniature houses crafted from balsa wood sit in a perfect line. Delighted by the sight of them, I walk closer for a better look. Each one is different, but all are excellent pieces of work. I spend several minutes examining each in turn, and if I spent an hour on every one, I swear I'd find new details.

The door slams behind me—I cry out, whirling around to find the source of the loud noise. Jordan stands in front of the only exit. His hands are behind his back, gripping the knob. His voice is bleaker than a freshly dug grave. "You're not supposed to be in here."

Chapter 17

Jordan'sfaceisstill,but the air is not. Energy flies between us, and I feel like I'm staring down a truck in the middle of the highway. What will happen when he collides with me?

I trace the indent in my bottom lip—he watches closely. “I didn't know I wasn't supposed to come in here,” I say.

“Does it matter if you know the law before you break it?”

“Okay, you're taking this too seriously.” I laugh to lift some of the weight pressing on us, but Jordan's mood resists my effort. “I entered an unlocked room. I didn't break any laws.”

“Trespassing,” he breathes. He takes a step closer, I retreat one back. “This is private property.”

“But you invited me in for the party.”

“Party's over,” he points out. Another step, and this time my lower back bumps the drafting table. There's nowhere left to go. “Willfully remaining here without my consent is definitely not allowed, sweet bird.”

My breath rises in my chest, gets caught there, forcing my ribs up and down and out while my lungs can't refill enough for me to speak. I swallow, bracing my hands on the edge of the table, causing a pen to roll off the edge.

Jordan's hand flies out, catching it easily. There goes the last of the air in my body. He holds it between us, studying it before flicking his acid-green eyes to mine.That fucking smirk. “And now you're breaking my things. You're a menace. We'll have to do something about that.”

“Wait,” I whisper.

“Why?” He takes the tip of the pen's cap and places it against the edge of my right ear. Following the curve, sending sparks to my brain. “We're alone, Lorikeet. You're mine now.”

He takes the back of the tool across my jaw, then traces it lightly down to the indentation at the base of my throat. Jordan holds it there, letting it rise and fall with each of my short breaths. “Have you been thinking about this all day?” I ask.