Page 9 of The Allure of Ruins

“That’s cool,” she murmured, and then grinned big, and I could see her playfulness and spark return. She’d been scared, but her equilibrium was back. “And I meant it, I’m happy to be friends. You’re a good guy.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I said flatly as we crossed the floor together to the couch. She pulled the phone out of her bag that was basically holding that plus a lipstick and her ID.

“I know we just met, but you were totally my guardian angel, which was awesome.”

“I—”

“And you’re prettier than me and most of my girls.”

I scowled at her. “Men don’t want to be called pretty, believe me.”

“Sucks to be you, then,” she scoffed, arching an eyebrow before taking in my expression and giggling with relief. “Thick brown hair and big blue eyes—yeah, you’re really pretty.”

“Listen—”

“And your lashes are to die for,” she said, moving so she could look at my profile. “Damn. Even with falsies on, mine aren’t that long.”

“Would you call me already so I can store your number,” I ordered, giving her a gentle annoyed shove away from me that caused a snort of laughter. “And turn on your location so I can find you.”

“You have to do the same.”

“Fine,” I grumbled.

She smiled at me. “You have to follow me on TikTok and IG as well.”

“Whatever,” I said with an eye roll and got a gentle elbow jab in response.

We perched on the back of the couch, and I looked at her TikTok as she explained who the other people were in some of the photos.

“Who’s the guy carrying you on his shoulders?”

“Jesse,” she whispered, blushing.

I grunted.

“Janey?”

Her father stood in front of us, not glaring at me, but it was a close thing.

“Hey, Daddy,” she said softly, standing too as he leaned sideways so she could reach his cheek to peck. “It’s a great party. Your people are all super nice, especially Pax.”

He nodded, taking in the dress, the heels, the makeup. “Is that right?”

“Yeah, he’s dope,” she sighed, smiling at me, looking utterly smitten before she left, taking off one shoe, hopping for a moment, and then the other, before she turned the corner and was gone.

Mr. Somerset stepped close to me, arms crossed, making sure I couldn’t run, effectively caging me there, still perched on the couch. What made it okay was that I could have easily scrambled over the back of the lovely piece of furniture to safety if that became necessary. Which it wouldn’t—of course it wouldn’t—but my brain needed the safety net.

“It’s Paxton, isn’t it?”

“Yessir,” I replied evenly, putting my feet on the floor so he had to make room or crowd me. Thankfully, he edged back as I straightened to my full height, still having to tip my head to hold his gaze. “I work for Colton Gates.”

“That’s right. He brought you with him from the state’s attorney’s office.”

“He did.”

He gave me a grin then, the one that deepened the laugh lines in the corners of his lovely peaty-brown eyes. Handsome man who gave off a feeling of stability and fun, kindness and money, all at the same time, and of course I understood why every woman who came into the office, our clients, always watched him walk by when he deigned to be on any floor but his own.

“So,” he said, studying me, “what made you strike up a conversation with my daughter?”