Home > Near and Far (Lost and Found #2)(4)

Near and Far (Lost and Found #2)(4)
Author: Nicole Williams

“Hey. Alex. Lower it a notch or fifty,” I said, waving a spatula at her. I was back to breakfast since getting hot and heavy with my boyfriend wasn’t happening since Alex had arrived. “The landlord said if he gets another complaint from our neighbors about the noise coming from our apartment, we’re getting an eviction notice.”

Alex made an unimpressed sound as she wrestled off her other boot. “Puh-lease. He said that twelve warnings ago. Besides, if he evicted us, the sick perv couldn’t get his daily jollies peeking on you when you pass by his window.”

Jesse’s forehead lined. He wasn’t a jealous boyfriend, which was relieving in the way only a girl who’d been with a jealous, possessive ass**le of a boyfriend could appreciate. However, he was a concerned boyfriend. To answer his silent concerns, I shook my head and rolled my eyes. Alex sold drama like it was running out.

After tossing her boots aside, she spun around and saw that I wasn’t alone. Of course her gaze lingered over Jesse like mine had earlier. When I’d counted to five and she only looked about halfway done, I grabbed one of my pancakes and flung it her way. “Speaking of getting daily jollies . . .”

Alex dodged the flying pancake while managing to keep her eyes planted on Jesse. “Hot damn, I knew it!” A lesser man than Jesse would have squirmed from the way she was eye humping him.

“Knew what, sick perv?”

She rolled her eyes, still managing to keep them on Jesse. “There really is a God.” She finally shifted her gaze to me. With a wink, she gave me a broad grin and sauntered toward the coffee pot. As she passed Jesse, she smacked his backside so hard it made both Jesse and me flinch. “And there’s a devil, too.” She waggled her eyebrows at me as she grabbed a coffee cup and filled it.

“Hey. Crazy. Keep your hands to yourself, or I’m getting a restraining order.”

“What? You were keeping yours to yourself. Really, Rowen, when a half-naked man like this delicious boy-toy of yours is standing half-naked in the kitchen, someone’s got to not keep their hands to themselves. Men like him weren’t put on this planet so that women could keep their hands to themselves.”

“Men like me can hear, you know,” Jesse piped in good-naturedly. “We can even talk. You know, in case anyone wants to issue a good morning or a hey, how are you? before smacking my backside and making me feel like a piece of meat.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Good morning, Jesse. Hey, how are you?” Even she couldn’t keep from smiling around Jesse. It was a bloody epidemic.

“I’m doing great, Alex. So nice of you to ask,” Jesse replied.

“So what were you two freaks about to do with your morning before I burst in and objectified, sexually harassed, and assaulted your boyfriend?”

I sighed in exasperation as I carried Jesse’s and my plates to the table. Living with Alex was like living with a one-woman circus. It was always loud, always intense, and always fun. “Something freaky.”

She giggled into her coffee cup. “Please—please—don’t let me stop you. I’m perfectly happy to watch whatever freakiness you were about to partake in. Just pretend I’m not here.” She hopped up onto the counter and got comfortable.

“Go medicate yourself or something.” I was tempted to throw another pancake at her, but I was hungry. I’d already wasted one pancake, and it hadn’t even shut her up for a second.

“Come on! I wouldn’t even say anything.”

“Alex!” I shot a pathetic glare at Jesse, who was silently chuckling.

“What, Cranky Pants?”

“Medication. Now.” I lifted my eyebrows and waited. Alex wasn’t really on medication—contrary to popular belief—but we’d learned to build healthy boundaries so we didn’t annoy the shit out of each other. She was about five seconds of stare-lusting over Jesse past annoying the shit out of me.

“Fine. Be selfish like that and keep him all to yourself.” She slid off the counter, blew each of us a kiss, and headed for her room. “Damn. I hope I put Julio on the charger. I need my Julio action after walking in on that fine piece of cowboy ass.”

I shook my head and dove into my pancakes.

“Julio?” Jesse asked, sounding like he was afraid to ask. He was right to be.

“Don’t ask,” I said, lifting my hand. The first week we’d lived in the apartment, I rushed into Alex’s room after hearing her high-pitched screams. Let’s just say there wasn’t enough brain bleach to wipe that image from my mind. Ready to move on from the Julio, giant-hot-pink-vibrator conversation, I changed the topic. “How’s the gang back home?”

Jesse’s face ironed out, and his eyes went soft. “Home?” He dropped his forkful of pancake back on his plate.

I shrugged and gave him a look. Not that I was complaining, but I didn’t understand what I’d said or done to generate that warm expression.

“Do you think of Willow Springs like that? As your home?”

Ah. I got it. He’d gone all soft in the knees, eyes, and head because I’d called his home my home. Honestly, wherever he was or wherever he went was my home. I might have been too big of a chicken to admit that to him, but I suppose that without realizing it, I kind of just had. Damn my subconscious and its agenda.

“Mi casa es tu casa. Tu casa es mi casa. Right? In terms of Webster’s definition of a home, I suppose Willow Springs is as close to one as I’ve ever had,” I said with another shrug. I knew my answer was the reason his hopeful expression dropped ever so slightly. I also knew I’d just upgraded—or would it be downgraded?—my chicken status to coward status, but the overwhelming, at times stifling, feelings I had for Jesse were difficult to admit to myself, let alone to him.

   
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