Lover's Game (South Bay Soundtracks Book 3) by Amelia Stone

Author:Amelia Stone [Stone, Amelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-25T16:00:00+00:00

A loud, insistent knocking startled me out of a Pitch marathon. I paused the episode and shook my head, trying to clear the binge-watch-and-junk-food fuzz from it. Then I heaved myself to my feet and wound my way through the construction mess to the front door. A glance at the microwave clock told me it was well after eleven, and I wondered who the hell would be coming around this late.

The mystery was solved when I opened the door to find Krista on my front porch.

“Hey.” She gave me a shy smile. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

I tried not to grin like a fool as I stood in my doorway, staring at her. Her hair glowed crimson in the porch light, and the breeze was blowing her coconut scent to me, mingling with the jasmine that climbed up the side of my garage.

Krista had come to my house at booty call o’clock.

Yes please.

“You didn’t wake me,” I assured her. “I was just watching some TV.”

“Oh.” She took half a step back, and I saw that her arms were full. She was carrying a couple of beach towels, with a tote bag hanging from her forearm. “I can come back, if you’re busy.”

I stepped forward, taking the towels from her arms. “I’m not busy. Come on in.”

She hesitated, eyes darting down the street toward her parents’ house, like she wasn’t sure whether to run away or not. So I decided to make the decision for her. Without waiting for permission, I cradled the towels against my chest, turned, and walked into the house, praying she would follow me.

“What are these for?” I asked.

After a moment, I heard the front door close, then her voice behind me.

“Well, I had this idea.”

I grinned. Ideas were great. Ideas in the middle of the night, when the world was only good for sleep or sex, were even better.

“Oh?” I set the towels on the counter, which had just been installed yesterday. The house was still a minefield of lumber, power tools, and stacks of tile, but the kitchen was nearly done.

Typical me. Thinking with my stomach first.

I watched as she set the bag down. Then she stood on the other side of the island, her eyes travelling all over the newly-open floor plan.

“This is nice,” she said.

I raised a brow. “I think you’re probably dehydrated,” I quipped, gesturing to the mess.

“Maybe.” Her lips tilted in amusement. “But it’ll be nice when it’s done, right?”

“It definitely will,” I agreed. “This disaster zone is nothing, though. You should have seen it when I bought it.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I remember the old couple who used to live here. They were stuck in the eighties, shoulder pads and all.”

“Sounds about right.” I chuckled. “The kitchen cabinets were all particle board and laminate, and there was a lovely abstract wallpaper in all the bathrooms. I think it was supposed to be starfish.” I shrugged. “Or maybe mermaids. Hard to tell.”

Her freckled nose wrinkled. “Who’s doing the work?”

“Gabe Bloom,” I replied.

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