Page 12 of Astrid Parker Doesn't Fail

Astrid tucked her hair behind her ears, rolled her shoulders back. No way she could saythatto this woman, but she had to say something. “I—”

“Jordie!” Simon called from the porch. “Can we get started already?”

Jordan blinked, took a step back. “Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. Sorry.” Then she turned and hurried toward her family, leaving Astrid with a mouthful of worrying truths she was suddenly very glad she didn’t get a chance to say.

Chapter Four

JORDAN PRACTICALLY RANup the steps, taking her place next to Simon. Emery, Natasha, and Pru meandered to the other side of the porch, discussing structure. Pru fiddled with a dying fern hanging from the ceiling, a deeper-than-normal crinkle between her eyes.

“So, Natasha seems great,” Simon said.

“Yeah,” Jordan said. “She’s wearing a clit necklace, so I’d say she’s pretty awesome.”

Simon blinked. “She... what?”

Jordan motioned to her neck. “Her necklace. Looks like a funky wishbone? It’s the clitoris.”

“I... hadn’t noticed.”

Jordan smirked. “The clit, my darling brother, is something you really should notice.”

He rolled his eyes and shuddered at the same time. “Can you never sayclitto me again, baby sister? Thanks.”

She laughed, but his eyes grew serious.

“What I did notice was some tension,” he said.

“What are you going on about now?”

He nodded his chin toward Astrid, who was paused at the bottom of the steps, looking at something on her phone.

“You and Astrid. You know her?”

“No.” She said it quickly, making her eyes wide and innocent. The decision to refrain from telling her brother and grandmother about how she and Astrid actually met seemed to make itself.

Well,metwas a stretch.

She watched Astrid walking toward them now, her gait elegant and purposeful, perfectly poised. But a second ago, she hadn’t been so put together. Not at all.

And Jordan... liked it.

The way Astrid had fumbled over her apology sparked something in Jordan. Interest, perhaps, a less-than-charitable desire to watch the woman sweat. Either way, she’d wanted to hear what excuse Astrid was about to reveal for her behavior. That glimmer in her eyes as the two of them had regarded each other, the way Astrid’s mouth parted like she’d realized something earth-shattering, it was—

Jordan squeezed her eyes closed.

Intriguing.

That was all it was.

Astrid might be gorgeous—standing there under the morning sun in a tailored suit and looking like a younger Cate Blanchett, biting her full bottom lip in a way that made Jordan clench her legs together—but she wasn’t a nice person. That much was clear, so herattractivenesswas irrelevant.

Jordan certainly hadn’t been immune to pretty women and nonbinary people since Meredith. She perceived them, just as she perceived the humidity in the air during a Savannah summer or that her coffee had gone cold. It was simply that, most of the time—aside from a single ill-fated one-night stand about six months ago—she felt nothing beyond observation, nor did she want to.

And she certainly didn’t feel anything now.

Astrid climbed the steps, and Pru called her over to the plant cemetery. She slid by Jordan without a word or a glance, something Simon apparently noticed, because he pulled Jordan to the other side of the porch and picked at the peeling paint on the railing. A huge slice of wood came away in his hand.

“Jesus, this place is falling apart,” he muttered.