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As I approach the address she gave me, dread-tinged resignation settles over me.
On a block of Victorian four squares and arts and crafts bungalows, one sprawling monstrosity stands out. It takes up a sizable stretch of the block, but the cars parked in front eat up even more space. No wonder she doesn’t have a car. Where would she park it?
I stop my Tesla in front of a house a few down from the address she gave because that’s as close as I can get, and then look from her to the house and back again.
“Are you serious?”
She gives a forced smile. “Well, this is me. Thanks for?—”
“That’s a frat house.”
She pauses and then holds up a finger to make her point. “Actually, it’s not. It only looks like a frat house.”
Despite the epically shitty weather, there are a couple of guys lounging on chairs on the front porch. A few cars down from our spot, a guy is unloading groceries from the back of a Honda.
“No,” I correct my assessment. “It looks like it was a frat house forty years ago, then abandoned for a few decades, and then had squatters move in.”
“Nope. There are no squatters,” she says with the kind of dewy-eyed enthusiasm of someone who’s had to justify their choices to loved ones before. “It’s owned by the parents of one of the guys. Chad. There are twelve other tenants. And they all pay rent.”
I inhale and count to ten.
By the time I reach twenty, one of the other cars is pulling away, so I slide into the empty spot before turning to look at Trinity. “You live with twelve college guys?”
“It’s thirteen.”
“Who are you, Snow White?”
“And actually, I don’t live with them. I live in the apartment behind the house.” She waggles her finger to indicate the building peeking through at the end of the driveway. Before I can say anything else, she flashes another huge smile. “Okay, well, thanks for the ride. And the food. And the gin. And tonic. It was great. You’re great.”
Her gaze is soft and a little dreamy, the cinnamon of her eyes nearly surpassed by the darker brown, undoubtedly the lingering effects of the gin. It takes all my will not to slide my hand to the back of her neck and pull her closer. To finally taste those temping lips of hers.
Then, almost as if she can read my thoughts, she blinks, her gaze clears, and she leans back. “I didn’t mean…”
Of course she didn’t. Of fucking course she doesn’t think of me like that.
Because I’m a lawyer and she barely tolerates my company. And she has a boyfriend. An idiot boyfriend who doesn’t check his messages, but still…
I blow out a breath. “Yeah. I know.”
And just like that, she clambers out of my car. I hesitate only a second—okay, it’s another count of ten—before climbing out as well. By the time she’s rounded the car to the rear driver’s side door, I’ve retrieved the chicken and her messenger bag.
She holds out her hand as if she expects me to hand over her chicken and messenger bag now that I’ve retrieved them from the backseat. I shake my head and nod in the direction of her house. No, I’m not just dropping her off at the curb. My momma raised me right. I know to walk a woman to her front door like a damn gentleman.
She gives me an eye roll, but I can see the way her lips are curving slightly as if she’s more amused than annoyed. And maybe even a little impressed.
Yeah. Because that’s how real men act. Unlike Trent, the douche canoe who can’t even bother to respond to his girlfriend’s texts.
She leads me up the long driveway that snakes past the frat house. We don’t make it very far before one of the frat boys jumps out of his chair and jogs over. The guy is shirtless and in swim trunks. He has the defined muscles and smooth chest of a twenty-year-old who spends a lot of time on grooming.
“Hey, Trin!” His eyes flick in my direction, but he doesn’t bother to introduce himself to me. “We’re having a party tonight. Wanna stop by?”
“Hi, Chad.” Trinity flashes him a smile and I’m relieved to see that it’s friendly, but decidedly not interested. “Another party, huh?”
Chad flashes a cocky smile and holds out his fist. “It’s Saturday night, am I right?”
My scowl deepens as Trinity returns his fist bump.
“Thanks for the invite. But I think I’m going to stay at home to catch up on work. This dissertation isn’t going to write itself.”
