This was a really bad idea.
I hit the steering wheel savagely. I should have gone to the stupid party, even if it was the last thing I wanted to do. But Jordan’s invitation sounded really tempting. Who wouldn’t want to try a bunch of expensive wine on someone else’s dime?
It shouldn’t matter that Jordan was the only bright spot in my otherwise terrible day. But somehow, it did. Once I’d stopped taking out my anger on him, it had actually been…great. The drive there and back, getting the car started, the dance, even the carefully awkward invitation. I wanted to go. That was what it had come down to. He’d been a good guy, helping me out when he certainly didn’t have to. No matter what Cézanne had said about owing me.
I rolled my eyes at myself. If he ended up being a jerk after I drank all his wine, then fine. Whatever. At least I’d get some expensive wine out of the bargain.
Anyway, I was already committed. We were driving toward the mansions on the south side of town, toward the country club and golf course that Jordan’s cousin, Landon Wright, had created. It was a swank area, mostly owned by construction executives, oil tycoons, and decorated PGA golfers, like Landon. Regular people need not apply.
And as the mansions came into view, my trepidation wore off. I hadn’t been out here in a while, but damn! They made the rest of Lubbock look like they were living in squalor.
Sometimes, I forgot that the Wrights were heads of a Fortune 500 company and billionaires. That thought was front and center as we rolled up to Jordan’s enormous two-story.
I parked next to him, killed the engine, and stepped out into the cold. My eyes going up, up, up at the beautiful home, all red brick and stone and stained wood columns for the porch and shutters. The grass was trimmed and nearly as spotless as the golf course he lived on with two towering trees that must have taken a lot of care to keep alive way out here in the dusty, arid climate.
“Wow,” I whispered to Jordan as I came up to stand next to his truck. “Your house is beautiful.”
“Thanks,” he said with a furrow in his brow. “The garage door opener isn’t working. Battery must be dead.”
“Of course it isn’t working. I must have killed the battery.”
He chuckled as he headed toward the bed to collect the wine. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”
I wasn’t sure.
I’d been hoping to look into the garage though, if for no other reason than to get a good look at the car I actually associated with him—a silver Tesla Model S. It was a gorgeous electric car that I’d coveted for years. I still couldn’t fathom that someone who had an electric car…had purchased a diesel truck.
I patted the truck as he slammed shut the tailgate. “And apparently, you’ve gone full Texan.”
He sighed. “I needed something for when I went to sites. I’d been putting it off.”
“Do I need to get you some boots? A belt buckle?” He narrowed his eyes at me, but I couldn’t stop myself. “A cowboy hat?”
“Now you’ve gone too far.”
“You need something to go with that truck. It’s heavy duty. You’ll definitely need a hat and boots for the construction sites.”
He shook his head and headed toward the front door. “I don’t think I’ll ever be that Texas.”
“Oh, come on.”
“No chance in hell.” Then he tossed me the keys. “It’s the silver one.”
I found the key to the front door and turned the lock, pushing my way inside. He carried the case of wine, and I let the door close behind us. My hand went for the light switch as he hauled the case of wine to the kitchen island. But nothing happened. I narrowed my eyes and tried again but still nothing.
I fished out my phone and turned the flashlight on. “Uh, I think we have a problem.”
“What’s that?” he asked, going to flick on the kitchen light. Nothing turned on. “Well, fuck.”
And somehow, that was the moment that I broke.
Not when I’d stood alone in my flooding house as I watched everything fall apart. Or the moment of sheer terror as I’d nearly been driven off the road. Or the frustration with dealing with an issue that I hadn’t caused. Or finding Jordan Wright’s face there when I’d just wanted to deal alone.
No, it was this moment. When, against all odds, his power was out.
The laughter bubbled up from the deep recesses of my chest before bursting out of my mouth. It was a hysterical madness that couldn’t be contained. Tears came to my eyes as the compounded effect of this terrible day hit me full force.
“Annie?” Jordan asked.
But I was already leaning forward on my knees, trying to suck in air as I hiccupped around my laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“Everything,” I gasped out. “This day. Just think, we came here to escape a flood, and your power is cut. It just feels too good.”
“I think you’ve lost it.”
Slowly, my laughter subsided, and I swiped at my eyes. “Maybe I have.”
The anger was gone. That end of my rope feeling subsided, and in its place was relief. Because the day was almost over, and if it wasn’t tempting fate, I’d wonder, What else could possibly go wrong?
Jordan used his phone as a flashlight to find a stash of candles. He lit a few of them, positioning them around the living room. The space glowed soft, ambient light. I dropped my purse on the island next to the case of wine and took in the vaulted ceiling with the enormous royal fireplace, nearly big enough to walk into. The couch and chairs matched without being too matchy, making the room feel open and inviting. The back of the house was all glass, looking out over a pool and the golf course beyond. It was a marvel, and he’d clearly spared no expense. Not surprising considering the family business.
“Here you go,” Jordan said, appearing again a minute later. He held out a set of clothes.
I raised my brows. “What’s this?”
“You look cold.” He pushed the clothes into my hands and walked away without looking back. “Bathroom is the first door on the left.”
I stared after him in confusion. This wasn’t the Jordan of three years ago, who couldn’t get me out of my clothes fast enough. Now he was offering me sweats and not even paying attention as he started a fire in the fireplace.
Huh. Maybe this wasn’t as bad a decision as I’d thought.
I ducked into the bathroom and stripped out of my ridiculous heels and dress. He’d left me gray sweatpants, a plain blue T-shirt, a black pullover with the Wright Construction logo on it, and a pair of wool socks. I hadn’t realized how cold I was until I pulled it all on. Even though it was way oversized and I had to roll the pants four times before they fit me, I was finally warm, which was all that mattered.
When I came back out of the bathroom, the fire was slow going, just a gentle flame in the enormous fireplace. Jordan had set up what was essentially a pillow fort on the floor in front of the fire. A dozen blankets and pillows littered the space with a few bottles of wine and glasses next to the fort, like a picnic.
“You’ve been busy.”
“It’s cold,” he admitted, glancing back at me. His eyes scanned me in my oversized sweats, and something possessive flickered through that gaze. As if the sight of me in his clothes did it for him just as much as my skimpy clothing. He quickly looked away. “I contacted the power company. I guess a line was cut in our area, and they’re working on it. They didn’t give me an ETA on when everything would be working again.”
“Idiots,” I grumbled.
“Do you think you could watch this while I change?” he asked.
“Sure. I was a Girl Scout. I can manage a fire.”
“Thanks,” he said gratefully and then disappeared around the corner.
I craned my neck, wondering which room was his, but the place was too big. I lost him around the bend, and really, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like I had any plans to see his room.
I expertly tended to the fire while he was gone until it was burning nice and hot by his return.
His eyes rounded. “You really were a Girl Scout.”
“I was,” I said, admiring him in casual clothes.
He wasn’t exactly the sweats and T-shirt type. I’d mostly only seen him in suits. Otherwise I’d seen him in swim trunks and his birthday suit. This was a different Jordan. Careful. Cautious. He was trying not to scare me away.
I realized then that I didn’t really want that careful, cautious fear between us. I’d been hurt by what had happened, but I was to blame for that, too. What had I been expecting out of a one-night stand? I’d been stupid enough to fall too hard and too fast. He’d been smart enough not to…and I’d seen what I’d wanted to see. Everything that had happened afterward was miscommunication and hurt feelings that we let linger.
If Jordan was making an effort, then maybe it was time for me to put the past behind us. We didn’t have to be anything more than this. Someone who could be here for the other when they were in a bad place.
“Thanks for helping me today,” I said finally.
He sank into the cushions next to me. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“Yeah, I do. You didn’t have to help, and you did. So, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He nodded as if seeing the olive branch for what it was. Something passing between us that settled the past. After three long years, we were finally back on even footing.