Page 16 of Average Joe

Translation: I need a loan.

Tampering my emotions, I responded, “No. Absolutely not.”

Silence. Heavy breathing. “Please, baby. I miss you.”

His sickly sweet supplications used to work. Until they didn’t. “I don’t have time for a visit. Unlike you, I work for a living.”

“Just give me an hour. We need to talk.”

The more I engaged, the greater his persistence, a lesson I’d learned long ago. I ended the call without a response, sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled the negative energy.

Fucking ex-cons.

Bad news. Every last one of them.

* * *

“You have got to be kidding me,” I groaned, exhausted and done with men and their bullshit.

I slammed the car into park, cut the engine, and dropped my head to the steering wheel. Two deep breaths steadied my pulse. I bumped open my door and braced for an uncomfortable conversation.

Joe sat on the top step of my porch, beer in hand, six-pack at his side, and damn if he didn’t look like he belonged, a man unwinding after a hard day’s work. The sight angered me for many reasons, none of which I had the energy to contemplate. Seriously, did he think he could charm his way into my pants with Pale Ale and that strong jaw, and—oh, jeez—those muscles?

Gah. Who was I kidding? He could. And that was my problem in a nutshell.I, Marley Masters, was a sucker for any guy who seemed eager to slay my dragons or rock my world. Trouble with that sort was, they always had an agenda, and no matter how handsome, sweet, or convincing, they always left dragging my heart and guts behind them.

No more. I was done being a doormat.

Let him down gently, the angel on my shoulder whispered.Kick him to the curb with the sharp end of your stilettos, the devil croaked. Not until I reached the bottom step did I register the look on Joe’s face, forlorn and a little lost, so instead of asking him to leave, I settled for, “Hey.”

“Hey.” He nodded before pulling a long draw between his lips.

Curse my bleeding heart, the man looked defeated. “How long you been here?”

He studied me, eyes weary before saying, “Half hour, give or take.”

“Why?”

His chest rose and fell, his gaze darting to Alice’s home, then back to me. “Lonely in that damn house.”

His confession stung, salt to my unhealed wounds. I conjured a swift defense. “My porch isn’t lonely?”

“Nah. Got the squirrels to keep me company.” Joe leaned forward, elbows to knees, blue eyes coming to life, taking in every inch of my body.

Never had a man’s attention heated my skin the way Joe’s did. Seriously. Ten more seconds, and my clothes would be ash.

Desperate to shut down my libido, I constructed the first layer of bricks and asked, “Well, at least it’ll only be a few more days, right?”

“What?” He blinked, finding my eyes.

“That you’ll be in Alice’s house.”

Shoulders sagging, his bottle hit the cement with a loud clunk. “A few more days?”

“The funeral is over. I just assumed—”

“That’d I’d go home?” He leaned back on his elbows and straightened his legs, crossing them at the ankles. Sweet mother of mercy, he was long lines and honed edges and too beautiful to be any sort of good for me.

“Well, yes,” I said, forcing my gaze above his waistline.

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