Makayla’s eyes flick to the doorway and then back to me. She jerks her chin ever so slightly in the direction of the hallway. Max is gone, but Jake is leaning against the doorjamb. He studies me for the longest time, his blue eyes boring deep into my soul, and then he turns and walks away.

Chapter 4

’MANDA, ’MANDA, ’MANDA

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The incessant knocking at my front door wakes me from a deep sleep. For a moment, I consider ignoring the irritating tapper and returning to oblivion, but only Makayla and Drake know I’ve moved into my grandmother’s Tudor-style house in Oakland’s sleepy Montclair Village, and if I don’t answer the door, whichever of the two it is will have no qualms about breaking it down.

With a sleepy sigh, I brush the matted hair off my face, pad through the house, and pull open the heavy front door.

My blurred vision makes out a non-Makayla, non-Drake-shaped figure. Tall, broad shoulders, muscular chest. Distinctly male. Holding a backpack.

Blinking several times, I focus on startling blue eyes and soft, golden hair.

Jake.

Shock mercilessly slaps me into acute awareness. “What are you doing here?”

He frowns and peers over my shoulder. “What are you doing here? Makayla said you’d moved out of your apartment, but I didn’t think you would move into a house especially after…” He grimaces and cuts himself off.

After I lost my job. Great. Just what I need. Another reminder.

“Sorry.”

I shrug and make a mental note never to speak to my busybody friend again. Why is she talking to people about me when she knows I just want to drop off the face of the Earth?

“This is my grandmother’s house. She died last year and left it to me in her will. I used to come here and stay with her when I was really lonely at home. It’s too much for one person, but I haven’t decided what to do with it yet.” He doesn’t need to know I had to give up my apartment because I could no longer afford the rent.

Without so much as a by-your-leave, Jake pushes his way past me and marches into the house, dropping his backpack on the table.

“Um…can I help you?”

“Interesting place. Not a lot of houses left in Oakland with this much character. I’ll just take a look around.”

For the next ten minutes, I trail after him as he thumps walls, taps windows, jumps on floorboards, and opens and closes cupboards and doors.

“Good house.” He takes a look around the kitchen and then leans against the counter. “Clean lines, strong foundation, impeccably framed. Tons of character with all the period details and the wood floors, and I see you still like the country chic decor. But if you’re serious about selling, the inside needs updating and it could use a new roof and windows.”

Irritated by the intrusion and missing the warmth of my bed, I snap, “Well, seeing as I have no job, that won’t be happening any time soon.”

He flinches and I immediately apologize. But seriously, why is he here? Why won’t he just go and leave me in peace? Desperate to get away from the sudden onslaught of emotion and back to the numb stupor of the last few weeks, I put my hands on my hips. “Anything else I can help you with?”

Jake’s gaze drops to my chest and he sucks in a sharp breath. Then his eyes travel down my body. And up. And down. And part way up. And stop.

My cheeks heat. I am suddenly and uncomfortably aware I am wearing a pajama tank top and shorts and nothing else. Like a bra or panties. My attire for the last few weeks is not really appropriate for visitors. Especially male visitors. Not that it seems to bother Drake when he stops by every few days to feed me coffee and donuts and harass me about getting out of the house. But with Jake…

“Maybe I’ll go put on some clothes.” My voice barely rises above a whisper.

His jaw tightens. “S’okay. I’m not staying. I just came to deliver the backpack for Makayla. I was up at Grizzly Peak chilling with Max when she came back from shopping. She said you weren’t looking after yourself, so she’d bought a load of food and other stuff she thought you might need. But she got paged for the ambulance crew just as she was walking out the door so she asked me to bring it.”

“Thanks.” I try to sound thankful when all I really want is to get my hands around the throat of my interfering best friend. My grandmother’s house is only fifteen minutes from Max’s place and Makayla virtually has to drive right past if she takes the Warren Freeway into work, which she almost always does.

“Not a problem. I was heading to Redemption and you were only a couple minutes out of my way.”

“Are you teaching tonight?”

“No. Just going a few rounds in the practice ring, but if I ever get the company back in the black or convince my family to sell, I might start training seriously again and try to work my way through the amateurs.”

“Why did you agree to run the company if it’s not what you want to do?”

His jaw tightens. “Peter was killed in a car crash eighteen months ago and my dad fell apart. He was going to lose everything he had worked for. I couldn’t let that happen. In the end, they are my family.”

“I’m so sorry about Peter.” My throat tightens with sympathy. “Makayla told me about the accident. I called but I got your voice mail, so I left a message…” Jake hardly talked about his family when we were together, but I knew he and his brother, Peter, were close.

“Yeah, I got it. Thanks. I just wasn’t up to speaking to anyone at the time.” He opens my squeaky cutlery drawer and closes it. Open. Squeak. Close. Open. Squeak. Close. Then he opens it and frowns. Suddenly all my cutlery is on the counter and my drawer is upside down on the table. He grabs a bread knife and viciously attacks one of the screws on the rail.