Page 91 of Turn Up The Heat

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Shane parkedhis truck in the visitor’s lot, letting his eyes sweep the busy suburban neighborhood just outside of Philly, proper. The outline of the city buildings, visible from the highway, didn’t stir Shane’s gut like he’d expected them to. They simply stood, sleek and glittering, against the night skyline, just as they had when he’d left, a testament to a place he’d thought he hated. But it wasn’t the place he’d hated so much as the things that had gone on in it.

Hell if Grady hadn’t been right. Shane really did have a lot to learn.

He got out of the truck and eyeballed the neat brick buildings until he found the one he was looking for. With his determination brewing, Shane headed toward the well-lit courtyard dotted with a handful of doors set in colonial brick.

“Okay…101, 102, …ah, here we go. 103. Bingo.”

Okay, Romeo. Now what?

Shane stood outside the glossy black door, hand over the tiny brass doorknocker, and took a deep breath. He’d driven all the way down from Pine Mountain knowing full well that the girl of his dreams was probably going to curse him six ways to Sunday and send him packing, but it didn’t matter. Hopefully she’d hear him out first, and he’d get a chance to say what he should’ve told her from the beginning.

The truth.

“Here goes nothing,” Shane said to himself, but before he could lift the doorknocker, a familiar voice froze him, mid-movement.

“She doesn’t know you’re here, does she?”

Shane spun around, his heart whacking around in his ribcage. Bellamy’s friend, Jenna, stood at the mouth of the courtyard, both brows up.

“No. She, uh...no.”

“I’m guessing she didn’t exactly leave you her card in her rush to leave this morning. Can I ask how you found her address?”

Shane shrugged. “I had to do some pretty serious digging online, but I managed.”

Jenna cocked her head at him, clearly thinking. “You kind of did a number on her. I doubt she’ll want to see you.”

His gut plummeted toward his boots, but he stood firm. “I know. But she’s got it all wrong. I wasn’t entirely honest about my past. I’ll admit that. But she knows exactly who I am. I didn’t lie to her about what matters.”

“I figured.”

Shane’s brows popped. “You did?”

Jenna nodded. “Any idiot can see you’re crazy about her, even if you have a weird way of showing it.” She sighed. “You’re not going to break her heart, right?”

“No. God, no. I just want her to hear me out. If she decides she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me after that”—his throat tightened—“then I’ll respect her decision and go.”

“Well, today’s your lucky day.” Jenna held up a set of keys, and they jingled softly against her palm. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

* * *

As soon asher tears slowed to a dull trickle, Bellamy wiped her face with the back of her hand and sank into the water, letting the bubbles cover everything but her face. It swished over her ears, distorting the sounds around her into a series of creaks and thumps and groans. One big one in particular caught her attention, and she jerked out of the water to listen.

“Bellamy? You still in the tub?” Jenna’s voice floated through Bellamy’s bedroom and past the cracked-open bathroom door.

She sighed with relief. At least she didn’t have to go all bathtub Ninja and figure out how to get to the can of Mace in her bedside table. “Yeah. Your keys are on the counter,” she called out. “Thanks again.”

“No problem. Listen, I’m leaving something here for you. But don’t let it sit for too long, okay?”

Bellamy’s face creased in confusion. “What?”

“You’ll understand when you see it. I’ll call you tomorrow, sweetie. Bye!” The front door thunked shut before Bellamy could respond.

Huh. That was weird. Maybe Jenna had stopped at Mr. Wong’s Szechuan Gourmet for Chinese takeout. Jenna knew that hot and sour soup was Bellamy’s favorite comfort food, and it did get kind of gross when it was cold. Her stomach growled, sending up a rude reminder that it had been awhile since she’d thrown anything down the hatch other than a few sips of wine.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she grumbled, starting to salivate over the possibility of the soup. She popped the drain on the tub and dried off, throwing on a pair of ratty pajama pants and a three-sizes-too-big Philadelphia Phillies T-shirt. No need for pretenses like a bra for hot and sour soup, thank God. Bellamy jammed her feet into her purple fuzzy slippers and twisted her wet hair into a knot. She cradled her glass of wine in her palm, letting the stem dangle between her fingers as she padded out of her bedroom and down the hall.

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