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  “That’s it?”

  “Yep. Oh, one more thing …” He turned back to me as he opened the door.

  My head cocked to the side.

  “I love you.” He smiled and left.

  I dropped my face into my hands. He wasn’t even close to giving up.

  29

  JAKE

  * * *

  There was no way I was giving up on her. In fact, getting her back was my new reason to live. And poor little Louana did not know how hard I was going to make it for her. Not only would I win her trust back, I was going to make her as frustrated with me as I possibly could along the way. I didn’t give a flying fuck if she thought I was a bulldozer or steamroller or whatever the fuck it was that she called me. That girl was mine, and I was going to spend all my free time and energy making damn sure she knew it. And fortunately for me, I now had free time equating to twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

  Step one: Get closer. She’d said she wasn’t going to go out of her way to see me. She wouldn’t have to. I would be in her face every night when she got home from work. She didn’t have to go out of her way, not at all.

  Humming my favorite Pink Floyd song, I picked up the empty bottles and food wrappers from the courtyard, put them in the trash, and went to get Fern. Archie bounced up and down like a pogo stick; he must have thought seeing me was a one-time deal. Nope, buddy. Jake Riley was here to stay.

  “You still okay with me remodeling the apartment before I move in?” I asked.

  “You betcha.” Fern’s lipstick-stained mouth formed a sly smile, and she grabbed her old lady purse. I secretly wondered if there was a brick in it. It weighed a ton, and I wouldn’t have put it past her to swing it in self-defense.

  We hopped in the Jeep and took our favorite field trip to Home Depot. We bickered, took cheap shots at each other, and turned heads in every aisle. Whoever laughed first lost. Lost what, I didn’t know. But our stupid banter solidified our bond. If only that old woman could have sung rock and roll, we would have made a brilliant band.

  Richie’s old apartment needed a lot of work. My plan was to gut it. I would put in a whole new kitchen and bathroom, tear up the carpet, and rework the cabinets. It had the exact same layout as Louana’s, and I had already been dreaming of fixing up her place during the months the two of us had lived there together. Fern said she wanted to help pay for the costs, but I had more than enough money to cover a renovation. And I was happy to have a project to keep my mind off the fact that I wasn’t doing the thing I was best at in the world—playing music.

  My official first day started without a hangover and with the removal of the nasty-ass carpet. Holy shit, ripping and tearing was fun. And Archie agreed. I flung patches out the window, and he roared down the stairs to catch them. As if he understood that it was all trash, he severed the scraps to bits and left small shag threads everywhere in the concrete common area.

  Feeling cocky, Fern and I ordered crap food for lunch before I pulled off the dated cabinet doors in the kitchen.

  When I was getting ready to call it a day and have my celebratory beer, high heeled stomps climbed the stairs and pushed the already open door all the way flush with the wall.

  “Hey, baby!” Yes, I’d just called her “baby.” Yes, it had made her little nostrils flare. And yes, I would do it again.

  I grinned at the sight of her. In a black-and-turquoise dress that I’d never seen before, with her dark hair long and wavy, she was her usual stunning self.

  Archie looked up and wagged his tail but stayed in his spot on his mutilated square of carpet. I reached for my phone and turned down the music.

  I held back a snicker. A hand perched on her thin hip and I drank in the glory of Louana in her work clothes. Black lace. Absolutely black lace under her silk dress.

  “What are you doing?”

  I stood and wiped a bit of sweat from my brow with the hem of my purposely tight tank. “Remodeling. You’ve been telling Fern for months she should update the apartments when people move out. I thought you’d be happy she’s finally doing it.”

  “And you’re just the man for the job?”

  “Yeah, you know my dad’s a carpenter. I’m thinking of it like my summer job.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Her gaze skipped around the room, surveying my work. Her dark beautiful eyes landed on me and tightened. Then the poor girl couldn’t help herself. She checked me out. Win. Total fucking win. I was about to flash my victory smile, but she turned around and left.

  Next thing I knew, she was rambling in French from the courtyard. I walked over to the door and leaned out just enough to catch a glimpse of her. With a cigarette in one hand and her phone in the other, she was clearly bitching to her mom.

  It was all the encouragement I needed. I changed into the swim trunks hanging in the shower that I’d been planning to tear out later in the week. I hopped down the stairs, and Archie followed. I grabbed his tennis ball and dove into the pool. Archie belly flopped next to me, and we played our never-ending game of keep-away.

  Once Archie decided to monopolize the sopping ball, I dared to glance in Louana’s direction. She was still sitting in her chair and made no attempt to dart her eyes away. I adored the resting bitch face she was trying to serve me. It was the fuel to my already out-of- control bush fire. Finally, she broke her stare, looking to the ground, and bit her lips inward.

  Fuck, she was killing me. I hadn’t realized that being so close, being able to see her, talk to her, would lead me to long so badly to touch her. I didn’t even want to have sex with her. Well, that was a lie—I absolutely was dying to have sex with her again. But what I needed most was her head on my chest or her back against my stomach. A quiet moment that only she could give me.

  I swam over to the side of the pool and laid my chin on my hands, just barely over the edge. “Wanna go to dinner?”

  Her lips pursed, and she kicked off her black heels, also new. I remembered that soft spot on her ankle, a personal favorite. She stood up and turned around. Without a word, she bent over at the waist, which lifted her hemline higher on the backs of her thighs. She lingered for a moment with her perfect ass on full display and scooped up her shoes.

  Oh, baby girl wanted to play it like that? Game on, little mama. Plus, what was she thinking? Staring at her ass was supposed to be some kind of hardship for me? That was hands down my most favorite part of her body. Maybe it was a reward for helping Fern. She was flaunting it and knew I would look. Why would she do that?

  Wait.

  But…

  She couldn’t possibly have meant that she’d done anal with the douche and was flaunting it in my face. No, no, no. That ass was for me.

  “Hey!” I called.

  She went inside without so much as a glance over her shoulder. Shit. This might be harder than I thought.

  And then she was gone. If I hadn’t seen all the plastic containers with healthy food in Fern’s fridge next to my beers, I would have thought Louana had been abducted. I waited around until 8:00 most nights but understood by the end of the week that she was avoiding me. I decided to take it as a good sign. At least it meant she wasn’t indifferent.

  On Sunday morning, when the bright sun woke me and warmed my bed with its rays, I knew exactly where I would find her. I drove from my place at the beach into Hollywood and let myself into the complex with the keys Fern had given me. And there she was, next to the pool, top off. I stomped over.

  Louana pulled out her ear buds and pushed herself onto an elbow. “Can I help you?”

  “Yeah, put a top on. This is a public place.”

  She frowned her disagreement. “No, actually this is private property.”

  I couldn’t help but look down at her gorgeous body laid out in front of me. Not one fucking tan line. “I see you took advantage of the nude beaches in the South of France.”

  “You and your assumptions about me in France. But be careful where you fish; you may not like what you reel in.” She put her earp
hones back in and lay down.

  Ouch. That was a fucking dig. A one-two punch. A slap in the face and a blow to the ego. I knew we’d been broken up for months, but the naïve child in me had always run with the torch that she’d remained celibate. Even at times when I’d known she was with Fuck Face, I’d refused to picture her actually doing things with him.

  I trudged up the stairs to lick my wounds.

  Two minutes later, the door opened without a knock. I quit unscrewing a kitchen cabinet and looked over my shoulder. Louana had put a dress back on and was standing in the door way.

  “Jake?”

  I grumbled and went back to my task.

  “Jake!”

  “What?”

  She walked to the kitchen and bent down in front of me.

  Softer than I’d seen her in months, she said, “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. But what did you expect was going to happen here? That you’d come over every day looking ridiculously tempting in your torn-up jeans, you’d help an old lady fix up an apartment, and it would make me welcome you back with open arms?”

  I knew it. I knew she still felt our connection. A sneaky smile covered my cheeks before I could stop it. “So, you’re saying you’re tempted?”

  She rolled her eyes and smacked her hand on the counter, then stood. “You’re impossible.”

  No doubt about that. And so was she. Except, she wasn’t. As she walked toward the door, I realized she’d come to me. She did still care. And she’d apologized. That was something I didn’t get a lot from her. Not that I minded. I loved her strong and bullheaded.

  “Louana?”

  She stopped her forward motion to the door but didn’t look back—as if she knew what was coming.

  “I love you.”

  Her feet moved again, and she jabbered in French. Insults, no doubt. Sweet, beautiful, frustrated insults. Music to my starving ears. She still cared, and way more than she wanted me to see. Her phonetic rant continued, and once she was out of sight, with my door still open, I saw the dry smoke of a cigarette snaking up from the courtyard.

  I gave her some time to cool down, then changed into my swim trunks. She came through the main gates with Archie, who she made sit, wait, and be calm before she unhooked his leash. I cannonballed into the pool, and he barked at me from the edge.

  Louana spread out her towel on a deck chair, and her e-reader fell to the ground with the action. When she reached for it, she once again advertised her perfect ass in my direction. I pretended not to notice and said something to Archie, secretly grateful for the cool water around my crotch. Not that it mattered. I still twitched with the early signs of wood.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her pull off her dress. I couldn’t decide which emotion was stronger—relief or disappointment. The bikini top was still on. She lay down on her back, arched it, bent one knee, and began reading.

  I bet she thought this was some kind of trap she was laying. Or some sort of standoff. Foolish woman. I concocted my plan from the corner of the pool, with my canine sidekick never far away.

  When I was ready, I pulled myself out of the water, then dripped over to her and dragged a chair close.

  “Could I borrow one of your towels?”

  “Sure.” She handed me her spare with a syrupy smile and a bat of her eyelashes. She was being sweeter than she’d been … ever, really.

  “You know, I was thinking maybe we should call a truce.”

  “Mmm.” She puffed out her chest and closed her eyes. It was the same reaction she’d had many times before—when my head was between her legs. Fuck, my man downstairs woke back up.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Just feeling a bit nostalgic.” Her eyes remained closed, and she readjusted her legs.

  Evil temptress. But my will was made of iron. I knew she was fucking with me, and just because she could get a physical lift out of me didn’t mean I would let her know about it. We needed more than physical. I needed her trust.

  She turned to me and touched my leg. Any doubts about whether my man wasn’t on board were quickly erased. The expression on her face reminded me of when she was building up to come.

  “I’m sorry—you were saying?” She took her hand back and moved it to her ribs, where her fingers twirled in circular motions.

  I stared at that hand, wishing on every star in the galaxy that it was my own.

  No. Bad Jake. Focus.

  I cleared my throat. “I want to call a truce. I don’t want to fight with you every time I see you.”

  “I definitely don’t want to fight with you.” It was almost a whisper, and it was absolutely laced with sex. She’d pulled me in. I was about to reach for her …

  Then—bam!—she shot up and blinked several times. “Sorry, do you think we could continue this conversation in, say, fifteen minutes? I need to go take care of something.”And without letting me answer, she walked to her front door, stopping only to serve me a wicked grin before closing it behind her.

  I tiptoed over to the door and placed my ear against it, but I couldn’t hear anything. I cursed my years of drumming in a rock band and hoped to God that if she’d gotten some toys out, she was thinking of me.

  The next week it was once again difficult to get her attention. On Thursday night, when she strolled through the courtyard with her glib smile and locked herself in her apartment, I knew I had to up my game. Pull at the heartstrings.

  I formulated a plan while I finished my beer, then walked over to her door and knocked.

  She answered in bare feet, bare legs, and a long sweater wrapped around a familiar nightgown peeking out from underneath. Her hair was up, and her makeup had been washed away. Her natural beauty slapped me in the face.

  “What?” It wasn’t the greeting I’d hoped for.

  “Can I come in?”

  “No.” She was a stubborn, sexy bull, but I expected nothing less than her top game.

  “I was wondering if I could come in and use the piano when you’re not here.”

  When her head dropped back, I knew I’d found the right string to pluck. Me and the piano were an effective tool. But when she looked back at me, I could tell she wasn’t convinced.

  “This isn’t your way of getting in here to rifle through my underwear drawer, is it?”

  My eyes automatically went to her waist. I knew she wasn’t wearing any panties. She never slept with them on, and she was ready for bed. Fuck. Six months ago, I could have slipped my hand up to her ass and proven myself right.

  “Is there anything new in there?” My eyebrows waggled.

  “That’s none of your fucking business.” Pretend-angry Louana was adorable.

  I would definitely be checking now, but I needed to get back to stirring up her pity. It was my best weapon.

  “It’s just that I feel like playing would help me a bit. You know, sort some shit out. And the piano is just sitting here.”

  She turned away and sighed.

  Bull’s-eye!

  “Fine. But you come in, then you sit at the piano, play, and leave. You do not enter my bedroom or closet. And don’t even think about raiding my refrigerator.”

  She’d forgotten the bathroom, I had a loophole.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Yes, you would.” She was right. She knew me too well, and normally it would have made me smile, but this time it only reminded me I still had a long way to go to get her back.

  “Can I thank you by buying you dinner?”

  “No, Jake. You are not taking me out on a date. Repeat after me: ‘We are not getting back together.’”

  There was no way in hell I would say that.

  “Can you tell Fern I have the green light to play? I don’t want her to think I made it up to get in here and take naps on the bed I miss so much.”

  “Fine.” She wrapped her arms a little tighter, as if I had no idea what was underneath that sweater.

  “Thanks. And you know you shouldn’t answer the door witho
ut underwear on.”

  “I knew it was you.”

  And she’d done it anyway. I couldn’t help myself and I licked my lips.

  “Is there anything else, or can I go to bed now?”

  I gazed into her eyes, and my mind traveled to all the “anything else’s” it wanted so desperately to get back. “Nope, thanks for letting me play.”

  She closed the door in my face. Damn, I knew she was trying to be cold, but that was arctic. Maybe I needed to back off for a bit and give her some space.

  30

  LOUANA

  * * *

  Casey and I sat outside at a café in Hollywood, and I wondered if he applied sunblock like others applied body lotion. Poor freckly white boy.

  “It sounds more like flirting than war.” His eyes leveled.

  “It’s not flirting,” I assured him, even though a tiny part of me knew he had a point.

  “Bull to the shit. You still care about him.”

  Damn my bestie and his ability to read people so well.

  “You’re right. I do. And part of me is happy he’s around to help with Fern and Archie, but I have no intention of getting back together with him.”

  He spread his napkin out on his lap. “Well, I do have something rather interesting to tell you.”

  “If it’s about Dimitri, I seriously don’t want to know.” I scrunched my face and shook my head. No more exes. Lord, the one on my doorstep was more than a handful already.

  “No …” Casey’s thin nose twitched. “It’s about that actress.”

  “Oh, God.” My back hunched, and I uncrossed my legs. “In that case, tell me something about Dimitri.”

  “I think you should hear this.”

  I never wanted to hear about that woman again as long as I lived. But Casey knew that, so I had to ask: “Why?”

  “I saw her; she came in for a casting call.”

  I let out a slow breath. “And?”