Page 7 of The Love Bandits

She’s your neighbor, you idiot. Abort. Abort.

At the same time…I’m only going to have to be here for another week or so, right? What’s the harm in having a little fun?

And, sure, maybe that attitude is exactly what got Ryan into trouble in the first place, but we’re not brothers for nothing.

CHAPTER THREE

LAINEY

If you pretend you have a pet, people are more likely to trust you. Pretend you’relookingfor that pet, and they’ll probably offer to help you.

Yes, I know that sounds horrible. Itishorrible.

It’s a ruse my parents have used to introduce themselves to important people, and they formed a friendship with a couple who brought us to the Hamptons one summer.

I decided to pretend I’m Jake’s neighbor for a couple of reasons.

Reason One: Cleo told me Jake has only lived in this place for a few weeks, so logic suggests he hasn’t had a chance to meet all of his neighbors.

Reason Two: People are more likely to invite a neighbor into their apartment, and I need to get in there if I’m going to retrieve her necklace. It’s not exactly safe to go inside a strange man’s apartment, but I have mace and a Bowie knife and years of self-defense training. Besides, Nicole is my getaway driver and knows where I am. If he tries to cross me, he’ll regret it.

Jake’s certainly an attractive, charming devil, not that I’d expected anything different. Cleo had texted me a photo of him—slightly curly brown hair, light hazel eyes with long black lashes,and a tattoo of a fox made of fire on his forearm. He’s drunk in the photo, judging by his bleary expression. I’ve looked at it a lot over the last few days, preparing for this moment.

He looks exactly like he did in the photo, and yet he doesn’t…

He’s got more…vitality, I guess. Everything about him seems alive, from the dancing flames on his intricately designed tattoo to his fit, muscular body and the mischief dancing in his eyes. It lights him up from within, making it hard to look away.

Or maybe it’s the fires of hell that light him up.

Men like him have a seductive power, and after being in Jake’s presence for twenty minutes, I’m positive he knows it and twists it to his advantage.

The only surprise so far was his rapport with his elderly neighbor, a grizzled man with wispy white hair and pitch-dark eyes who introduced himself as Mr. Tim. Jake clapped the old guy on the back, and they told each other terrible dad jokes. It was, I regret to admit, adorable. But for all I know, he’s been stealing the guy’s social security checks on the sly.

Jake sneaks another glance at me as we leave Mr. Tim’s closed door and enter the stairwell. “Interesting name for a cat. Are you an X-Men fan?” he asks as I pretend to glance around for the fictional cat.

“I liked the comics when I was a kid,” I tell him as we descend the stairs. When we reach the bottom, I peer around the small, decidedly empty space before reaching for the door handle. “I enjoyed imagining I was a mutant,” I say as I open the door and step into the alley beside the building, Jake following me.

I’m not lying. Ididlike it. I normally felt like a cog in my parents’ plans, but Lainey with X powers was in control.

“Me too,” he says with a grin as the door clicks into place behind us. “My favorite character was Gambit.”

I contain a snort. Of course he prefers the character who was a notorious thief. Not that I can talk…Gambit is my favorite too.I liked the thought that someone who was a villain could also be a bit of a hero—that we’re not destined to only be the worst parts of ourselves.

“Let me guess,” I say, clearing my throat. “Do you like playing cards?”

“Sure,” he says, his grin spreading wider. “I like it a lot when I’m winning. The secret is knowing when to stop playing. My brother’s never figured that out.”

“You have a brother?”

He nods, glancing around, and I remember I’m supposed to be looking for my fictional cat. “Let’s check out the area near the trash bin,” I say, gesturing to the huge black dumpster in the alley. “Professor X has a thing for rotting garbage. It’s the feline in him.”

If he’s disgusted by the thought of hanging out by a pile of trash on a hotter-than-usual October day, he doesn’t let on. He strolls by my side, his pace easy and his stride confident, then says, “You got any siblings?”

“No, it was just me,” I say, realizing belatedly that I could have made up a passel of brothers and sisters for “Elaine.” Then again, it’s always easier to stick to the truth so long as you don’t dole out identifying details. There’s also something surprisingly freeing about talking to a stranger, someone you’re never going to see again. “But I have a close childhood friend. I used to pretend she was my sister.” And also that her sweet-as-pie father wasmyfather, but I don’t add that. I haven’t even told Claire. Jealousy isn’t the kind of feeling you should ever admit to, according to my mother. It’s something to act on, not get lost in.

He gives me another sidelong look, pausing, which prompts me to stop moving and turn toward him. His gaze moves slowly over my face, sending awareness in its path. Then he surprises me by slowly reaching up. I’m not sure what he intends at first, but he tucks my hair behind my ear, curling his fingers brieflyaround my ear. My breath catches, and an almost painful zing of awareness shoots through me. It’s…disarming, but it’s been a long time since a man’s touched me; that’s all.

“I get it,” he says softly. “My brother’s a bit of an idiot, but I don’t know who I’d be without him. He keeps me grounded.”

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