Page 10 of Love JD

I clicked my tongue. “Stop apologizing.”

“Okay, then fuck you. How’s that?” she shot back.

I rolled my head down to her with shuttered eyes. She gave me a faux-innocent blink.

“I don’t suppose your roommate is a bulky bodybuilder?” I joked, hefting her up two stairs at a time because her snail’s progress was making me antsy. “I could make her do this.”

She snorted softly. “Robert is definitely not into fitness.”

“Robert?” I asked incredulously. “Your roommate is a dude?”

A pink blush colored her cheeks. “We’re friends. It’s cool.”

Oh right, I thought with a mental eye roll. Sure they were. “Well, tell your boyfriend he owes me.”

“You’re my boyfriend,” she pointed out with a sharp look. “Azura texted me and said she already had someone write up an article for People Magazine.”

“True,” I conceded with an indulgent smile for her benefit. “Sorry. I should say your boytoy owes me.” She made a choking sound, and I grinned devilishly. “What? No toying with Boy Bob?”

“Oh my God.” She pulled an “ew” face that told me she had about as much experience in the bedroom as she did fashioning tree-climbing harnesses. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in literal contact with a virgin. And I’d contacted a lot of women. But it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise—the easier to tease her with.

I hauled her up another few steps, which she stumbled on, and when her breathing started to come out in ragged little puffs, I finally gave up. “I’m carrying you,” I announced. I didn’t wait for her to agree because I was fairly certain she wouldn’t. Anyone who had a brother swimming in Benjamins and resolutely insisted on living in a dump like this was probably more stubborn than I was—and that really was saying something.

She let out a little sound of pain as I jostled her ankle, so I held her tighter to me and clamped my hand around her knees to stabilize her legs. She looked up at me, clearly embarrassed. “Listen, you didn’t have to do thi—”

“If you apologize one more time,” I drawled as I jogged up the stairs, grateful for the speed. I hated going slowly. For anything. “I swear, Isla, I’ll find a way to shut you up. And I don’t think you’ll like it.” I thought for a second, puckish humor pulling at my mouth. “Or you’ll love it. Tossup.”

Her teeth made an audible click.

I reached the landing of the outdoor staircase, and I paused, looking out at her view. She had a perfect panorama of the Wasatch Mountains, and although most of the snow had melted off them in May, they still glowed dark violet and slate blue in the setting sunlight. Salt Lake had better mountain views than Denver, I had to admit.

She quirked her head at me, staring first at my face, and then following my gaze. Her dark brown hair tickled under my chin, and she unconsciously tapped her fingers along the back of my neck. It gave me goosebumps.

“I guess the million-dollar view makes up for the rest of it,” she said quietly.

“I guess it does,” I agreed reluctantly.

“I’m this one.” She pointed to the left. The door looked utilitarian at best, with green paint peeling off the metal and the “sixty-nine” askew.

I slid a suggestive look her way. “So, that’s what you two are up to in there.”

She squinted up at me shrewdly. “You’re trying to embarrass me. It won’t work.”

“If you say so.” I flashed her a grin and set her in front of the door where she pulled keys out from her boring, black purse. She shoved them in the lock, opened the door, and limped in.

Immediately, I noticed an interesting dichotomy about her apartment. The living area, which was the first thing we walked into, had cozy red couches, a coffee table, lots of candles, and twinkle lights strung up around a walnut bookcase. It looked like a bookish girl’s fantasy with knit throws, fluffy pillows, and a stunning view of the mountains out of the window. But then, off to the left, what was supposed to be a dining room had been made into a computer nerd zone with an ugly desk, at least three computers, lots of trash, a ripped-up computer chair, and a general air that made me think of the word “fungus.”

The kitchen beyond it looked standard enough—small and likely unused if they were both college kids. The computer chair swiveled around, and a young guy looked at us in surprise. He had curly blond hair, a defined jaw, and weirdly small ears. He also looked frailer than Isla, if that was possible, and in contrast to that, had a dark floral tattoo sleeve wrapped around his right calf beneath a pair of silver basketball shorts. He had a certain “prince under the tower” appeal, I supposed.

“What happened?” he asked, standing as his gaze cataloged Isla’s booted foot.

“I’m just clumsy,” Isla said dismissively, her voice going from saucy like it had been a moment ago to breathy.

I gave her a sardonic look. “You fell out of a tree.”

“A tree?” he echoed. I had to assume this was Robert, and no, he could not have helped me get Isla up the stairs. Also, he looked irritated at the knowledge that his roommate had gotten injured. His brows drew together, and he held out his arms to give her something to lean on. Isla gripped his forearms and stared up at him nervously. “I leave you alone for one day,” Robert joked with a deprecating shake of his head.

Oh, man. This guy was an asshole. The kind that said the right thing and thought another entirely. He looked equal parts belittling and put out as he stared down at Isla’s shrinking form.

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