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“I’m always nice.”
“Not to Paige. I know you two don’t really get along that well anymore.” Matt sounded tired again. “Normally that doesn’t worry me because—well, you know why. There was a time when I thought she might be in love with you.”
She’d been crazily in love with him.
She’d told him as much, in a breathless hopeful voice, her eyes full of happy endings.
And she’d been naked at the time.
There was a sharp crack, and Jake glanced down and saw that he’d broken the pencil in half.
“You don’t have anything to worry about. Paige definitely isn’t in love with me now.”
He might not have been able to fix her heart, but he’d fixed that.
He’d been careful to kill any soft feelings she might have had for him a long time ago. Now the only emotion she ever felt in his presence was extreme irritation. It was an art form, winding her up. There were days when he even pretended he enjoyed it.
He kept her annoyed.
Kept her irritated.
Kept her safe.
“That’s good to know because you are the kind of trouble my sister doesn’t need in her life. You promised not to lay a finger on her. Remember?”
“Yeah. I remember.” That promise had handcuffed him for a decade. That, and the knowledge that Paige wouldn’t be able to handle the realities of a relationship with him.
“Hey, you’re my closest friend. You’re like a brother to me, but we both know you’d be bad news for my sister. Not that you’d be interested. We both know she isn’t your type.”
“That’s right.” Jake kept his voice monotone. “Not my type.”
“Do me a favor? Tonight I need you to find your sensitive side. Don’t poke at her or take bites out of her. Be kind. Can you do that?”
Kind.
He yanked open the drawer on his desk and took out a new pencil. “Sure I can do that.”
He’d be kind for five minutes.
Then he’d make up for it by driving her crazy.
He’d do that for Paige because he cared about her and he’d do it for Matt, because he was the closest thing Jake had to a brother.
And he’d do it for himself because love, in his opinion, was the biggest lottery on earth and the only risk he wasn’t prepared to take.
CHAPTER TWO
When life closes a door, you can always break in through a window.
—Eva
“YOU NEED TO burn your lucky shirt.” Paige stood on the roof terrace of their Brooklyn brownstone, staring blindly through softly waving grasses toward the glittering high-rises of Downtown Manhattan. The shady garden provided a lush, fragrant oasis in a city dominated by steel and glass.
Her brother, a landscape designer, had seen the potential others hadn’t and purchased the run-down brownstone for a fraction of its market value. He’d proceeded to turn it into three apartments, each with its own charm. But the jewel in the crown was the roof. Matt had magically transformed the weathered, unused space into a calming haven. Tall conifers surrounded the bluestone deck, sheltering custom-built wooden planters overstuffed with juniper, crepe myrtle and roses. It was invisible from the streets below and unimaginable to any one of the thousands of tourists trying to breathe in the crush of Times Square. It wasn’t until she’d moved to the city that Paige had discovered New York’s secret rooftop world, a myriad of elevated gardens topping the towering buildings like the decoration on a wedding cake.
In the summer they all met up here after work, sprawled on the loungers and deep cushions and drank and talked. Saturday was movie night and they invited friends over and watched on an improvised screen while the world passed by far beneath them.
It was Paige’s favorite place.
