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BLAKELY

Walks have always helped clear my head. I may not be one for normal exercise, but there’s something about a silent walk in a softly lit neighbourhood that soothes me. The calmness of the evening, the chirping of grasshoppers in overgrown grass, and the drone of cars in the distance. It’s the time I take to just be.

To feel like myself again instead of a failing mother figure and the person whom I’d hoped I’d be by now. It’s only been one day since I lost my job, and I’m already tempted to pull my hair out. If I don’t find another soon . . .

I kick a rock with the toe of my old sneaker and stretch my fingers at my sides, as if I’ll be able to run them through the air that’s felt too suffocating the past few years.

I’ve never been down this street before. It’s a new neighbourhood, and as I stroll down the sidewalk, it becomes clearer and clearer that I don’t belong here.

The houses have tripled in size since I crossed the street a minute ago, and with that, so has the cost of the shiny cars in the driveways. Convertibles, tinted SUVs, and luxury imports with the logos from TV.

I stumble on the perfectly smooth sidewalk when I reach a house that might as well have been plucked from the pages of a home design magazine.

Two storeys high with a covered porch, black wood accents, white brick siding, and wide-paned windows, it’s . . . gorgeous. A house like one that I did cut out of a home magazine and glued onto my dream board.

The landscaping is perfect, all deep green grass and tall hedges for privacy. There are tiny rocks lining the edges of the sidewalk leading to the porch before splitting to surround trimmed shrubs. It would look even better with some flowers, but with fall coming soon, there wouldn’t be a point in adding any.

Not that it matters, Blakely.

I tuck my hair behind my ear and realize I’ve stopped directly in front of the house to stare like a creep. But that realization doesn’t have me continuing on my way like it should.

Something draws me closer to this specific place. Like there’s an invisible hand shoving at my back, I leap forward a step past the hedges. My shoe scuffs the sidewalk, and my heart pounds hard and quick.

“Oh, you’re such an idiot,” I whisper to myself.

My throat constricts when I get far enough up the sidewalk to realize that the black front door with a gorgeous golden handle is open. It’s odd, considering the lack of vehicles on the long driveway. They could be parked in the three-car garage, but what if the owner isn’t home and someone’s broken in?

I pat my pocket where my phone rests and slowly continue up the sidewalk. Sure, it would be really stupid for someone to rob a house like this when the sun hasn’t even fully set yet, but I know better than anyone that when you’re desperate enough for something, the time of day doesn’t matter. You’ll make it work no matter what.

With slow steps, I make my way onto the porch, only an arm’s length from the open door. It’s silent inside, even after I knock my knuckles against the door and wait .

“Hello? Is anyone home?” I call.

This is so stupid. And reckless. Nate will tear my ear off about this the minute I go home, but my damn conscience won’t let me turn away now. The chance something could be wrong is enough to keep me from running off.

Holding my breath, I push open the door and move inside. “Hello?”

Still nothing.

I suck in a sharp breath at the interior of the home. The door is still open behind me as I drift through the entrance and gawk at the crown moulding, the black accents that have been carried in from outside, and the perfectly coordinated furniture.

Directly to the left of the entrance is a sunken living room with a U-shaped sectional, a real brick fireplace, and a massive flat-screen that must have cost thousands of dollars. It opens into a luxury kitchen with every high-end appliance known to man and an island fitted with six bar stools.

There are clothes strewn all over the living room. I make out a pair of boxer shorts with . . . eggplants all over them on the back of a white armchair? And are there really three gaming consoles hooked up to the TV? Who needs that many?

Growing distracted, I hurry to the row of consoles. My frown is solid as the desire to be able to give even just one to Nathan swallows me. He gave up asking for one by the fourth Christmas in a row I just couldn’t make it work.

There was never any rudeness from him when one didn’t show up because that’s not who Nate is. He’s sweet and understanding above all else. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t wished and wished that I could have given him one.

Crouching in front of the row of them, I look around the room for any sign of another person. Unless the clothes are a sign of a robbery or, shit, even a murder, I don’t think anything went on here. It seems more likely that the owner of this home just forgot to close the door all the way.

The first game console is plugged into the back of the TV, and while I’ve never hooked one up before, I know it wouldn’t be that hard to tug at the cords and run out of here with it . . .

I hesitate with my fingers brushing the top of it, a war of good and bad raging in my head. Whoever owns these is clearly well enough off that they could simply buy another one to replace this, but they shouldn’t have to.

I’m not the type of person to steal, but . . . fuck , I’m desperate. Desperate for just one thing to give Nathan. Sure, he could buy one on his own, but all I’ve ever wanted is to provide for him, and to see the look on his face when I show up with this? Especially after the week he’s had with the flu?

Reaching up, I pull the connecting cord from the TV, my mind made up. Fuck guilt. The saying is “eat the rich” for a reason.

“Would you like some help with that? Or if you’re interested, I have a huge stack of games you can steal while you’re at it.”

I jump at the deep voice and gasp while falling backward onto my ass. The floor is hard enough that the impact rattles my bones as I look in the direction of the man and tense.

“Who are you?” I attack, crab crawling backward before pushing to my feet.

Shit. This is so my karma for attempting to steal.

This guy is not who I was expecting to own a place like this. Not because he doesn’t look like he could be successful, but because he doesn’t seem to want to skin me alive for sneaking into his house and attempting to steal from him.

The smirk on his plump lips and humour in the steel blue of his eyes throws me for a loop. This isn’t an overly funny situation, and I’m certainly not feeling very at ease about it. I’ve just been caught stealing from a stranger. It’s a surprise I haven’t torn out of this place yet.

I definitely should when I realize that he’s currently half-naked. Wearing only a pair of low-riding grey sweatpants and a backward baseball cap, he leans against the wall with his arms crossed. And by arms, I really mean tree trunks. Christ alive, they could be as thick as my thighs, and I’ve always been heavier-set.

Clearly, he’s some sort of gym buff. First, the arms, and now, a stomach fit with flexing abdominal muscles and a deep-cut V leading to the waist of his sweatpants.

I snap my eyes up to his face again and scowl. While he might not have abs up here, it’s still a struggle not to get distracted by the sharp lines of his jaw or the strong nose that leads up to eyebrows that may be better kept than mine.

He’s too good-looking to also be so well-built. Any guy who’s hot both above and below the shoulders either has an incredibly small dick or an arrogance that already has me pushing to my feet, prepared to leave at the drop of a hat.

As if hearing my thoughts, he reaches up to press his hat further onto his head, causing the curling blond hairs beneath it to splay out.

“I live here. Who are you?”

Fuck. Even his voice is hot. All low and husky with a slight smoothness that I wouldn’t doubt has led several females to his bed.

“I’m nobody.”

He cocks his head slightly, eyes scrolling up and down my body. When he meets my stare again, his mouth lifts in a half smile.

“You’re not a nobody.”

“To you, I am,” I argue.

“Currently, yeah. But I’d prefer to put a name to the face of the woman robbing me.”

“Too bad.”

His laugh is just as husky as his voice. “Would it gain me any points if I said that it’s a pretty face?”

“It would actually make you lose points.”

“Shit. You play hardball.”

“You have no idea,” I say with a huff .

He pushes off the wall and takes three steps toward me, careful to leave double that still between us. “I’d like to get one.”

“Get what?”

“An idea. And a name. Anything, really.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit desperate? Did you forget already that I was just trying to steal from you?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as his laugh grows louder. “I can’t say that anyone has ever called me desperate before, but if that’s what it takes to get me what I want, then so be it.”

I blink at him, a brow arching. “And what you want is my name?”

“Yeah, Bandit. I want your name.”

“Don’t call me that. We’re so not on pet name status yet.”

“Yet?” he asks, his smirk returning as he takes another two steps closer.

I narrow my eyes and glance at the front door, looking for an escape route just in case. When I look back at him, his smirk has morphed into a frown.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he clarifies, and I think I hear genuine sadness in his tone.

“You can’t expect me to know that or to believe it. I don’t know you.”

“You could just as well hurt me if that’s the basis we’re using.”

I fold my arms over my chest, forming a barrier between us. “You’re also a man. And you’re much bigger than me.”

“You’ve got a point there. But I don’t have any plans to hurt you. You’re safe here.”

“Safe,” I echo, biting at the inside of my cheek. “From what, exactly?”

“From whatever it is you think I’m going to do that has you looking like if I take one more step in your direction, I’m going to end up with scratch marks all over my face.”

“I was going to give you at least two steps before I did that, but if you insist on one.” I shrug .

This feels a bit too much like flirting for me. Every word is just slipping out of my mouth without any thought. That sort of ease around a stranger isn’t normal, and it’s a sign that I need to leave now. Not to mention that Nate will be wondering where I’ve wandered off to if I’m not home soon, and the last thing I need to be doing is admitting that I almost stole something for him.

“I’m Jamie. J to my friends,” the owner of the house reveals, offering me his hand. “We can pretend to shake hands if you want.”

I simply stare at his hand, taken aback by how massive it is. Even without the lights on in the living room, I can make out the thick calluses on his palm, revealing that he must use his hands for work.

“Nice to meet you, Jamie, but I’m still not giving you my name. Now, unless you’re planning on calling the cops on me, I need to leave.”

Interest flares in his eyes. “Maybe I am. Why, do you have someone waiting for you at home?”

“You could say that.”

He hums, and my pulse spikes at the way his gaze sharpens, as if he’s already preparing to uncover the truth I’m hiding.

“If you’re not going to give me your name, at least give me the first letter.”

“Do you swear not to call the cops on me?” I barter.

“If I were going to, I would have the moment I saw you sneaking through my living room.”

I blanch. “You saw me come inside?”

He winks. “I heard you yelling outside but didn’t come downstairs until you passed the couch.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“You looked so focused I figured I’d see what it was you wanted to take from me. I wasn’t expecting the Xbox, though. There are more expensive things in this house than that.”

I tug at the hem of my old shirt, suddenly more aware of how I look amongst everything around me. There’s a pasta sauce stain on this shirt and a rip in the ankle of my leggings, for crying out loud. My hair hasn’t been washed in a few days in an attempt to keep the water bill down, and my shoes are one walk away from falling apart.

I’m sure I look pathetic in a house like this. Like a beggar desperate for something to pawn off for a few hundred bucks.

“I wasn’t going to sell it. I didn’t even come inside to steal from you. Your door was open, and I thought someone else might have broken in or worse,” I mutter, too embarrassed to look at him. Instead, I focus on the path to the front door.

“You can have it,” he offers quickly, and I realize that he’s moved forward a step.

I shake my head, already moving down into the sunken part of the living room. It’s easier to go this way than to pass by him and risk being touched. He might think he doesn’t look like a threat, but as a woman who grew up in a run-down neighbourhood without the protection of anyone but myself, I know better than to let my guard down. Even if something in my gut tells me I can take this one at his word.

Jamie watches me move with a frown but doesn’t chase after me. The relief of that is instant.

“I don’t want it. It was a mistake to try and take it, and I’m sorry,” I apologize, hoping it will help extinguish the embarrassment I feel.

He pulls his hat off his head and runs long fingers through his hair. “Can I drive you home?”

And show him where I live? Not a chance.

“No.”

“So, you’re just leaving now?”

I’m out of the living room by the time I hear him coming up behind me. The door is still open, and for a moment, I grow jealous at the knowledge. The fact this neighbourhood is safe enough that Jamie isn’t the least bit worried about not double- checking that he locked it the moment he got home feels . . . unfair.

I’ve been woken up to the sound of my doorknob being jiggled from the outside too many times not to check the lock a minimum of ten times before going to bed every night.

“I shouldn’t have been here in the first place. I’m sorry again,” I mutter before slipping outside.

The air is still warm, but the breeze has cooled slightly. It’s silent on the street as I rush down the porch steps and wrap my arms around my front.

“You chose this house out of all the others in this neighbourhood,” Jamie calls from behind me. “Why do you think that was?”

I don’t risk looking back and instead pass the tall hedges before answering him.

“It was the only place with an open door.”