Page 55 of Average Joe

“Um.” I tossed a look toward Joe’s front door. “Hi.”

Faster than I could flee, he hopped over the shrubbery, crossed my lawn, and stood before me, his soft, citrusy cologne a pleasant sensation, his appearance crisp and clean and oh so easy on the eyes.

“Wow.” He held my gaze, no leering, which I appreciated, until he spoke again. “Joe wasn’t lying when he said you were a looker.”

“A looker?”

“Sorry.” The guy scratched the back of his head, shifting on his feet. “His exact words were, ‘She’s the prettiest woman I’ve laid eyes on in ages.’”

My insides heated. The shit on my plate was stacked a mile high. I couldn’t handle Joe’s shenanigans. “Yeah. Well, considering where he’s spent the past few years, can’t say that’s much of a compliment.” I shimmied my key into the lock.

Hearty laughter boomed from his chest. “He said you were feisty, too.”

“Is there something I can do for you?” I snapped, turning again to face the annoyance at my back.

Lordy, he was gorgeous. The man was clearly into grooming. His thick, dark hair was cut tight and to perfection on the sides, while the top, slightly longer, was held in place with product. His brows were too perfect to not have been waxed and trimmed. He studied me with golden eyes that’d seen too much of the world’s underbelly. Square jawline. Sculpted bulk that stretched the seams of his navy V-neck.

“Heard you had a little trouble this morning.” His friendly smile withered, most likely in reaction to my grimace.

Ire prickled my skin. Still, I forced calm into my voice. “How do you know about my troubles?”

“Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t introduce myself.” He shoved a hand at me. “Officer Frank Garcia.”

Like that explained anything.

“You’re a cop?” I asked, giving him one good shake.

He stood taller, smiled wide, proud, and answered, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh. You must be Joe’s parole officer.”

His snort was adorable. “No, ma’am.”

“I’m Marley. You can drop the ma’am crap. And you still haven’t told me how you know about my morning.”

“Right.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Officer Watson and I go way back.”

News traveled fast. Loose-lipped Watson would get a stern talking to next time we met.

“Listen.” Frank tugged a wallet out of his back pocket, pulled a card from inside, and shoved the little white offering into my hand. “You call me if you have any trouble or questions. Anything. We’ll get to the bottom of that fire. I promise.”

We’llget to the bottom of it? “Frank. Thank you, really, but that’s not necessary. I’m sure it was just an electrical malfunction or something.”

I should’ve been scared or, at the least, worried. But more than anything, I was annoyed. I’d bet my life an electrical malfunction was not the cause. I’d hired the best electrician in south Seattle, and though I suspected foul play, Harper was not my number one suspect. Stupid kids out for a thrill would be my guess.

“You’re Joe’s girl. That makes you family, and we take care of our own.” Frank stepped closer, all whimsy wiped from his expression. “So don’t worry. We got you.”

Seriously? Was the guy for real? “I’m not his girl! There’s no getting to be had—”

A whistle came from across the yard, cutting my argument short.

Joe stood next to Frank’s truck, Ginger tucked against his naked chest, jeans hanging low on his waist. I hadn’t seen him in days, and the sight, as always, stole my breath.

“We’re just neighbors,” I mumbled, throat tight, heart aching for something I swore I’d never want.

Joe stared at me, lifting Ginger to drop kisses on her snout.

“Oh?” Frank laughed, the sound deep and hearty, the kind of chuckle that made you want to put your head against his chest to feel the vibrations. “If liars were tires…” he started, then dropped his chin and scratched the back of his neck. “If liars were… wires? No, that’s not it.” Again with the laugh. “You know what I mean.”

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