Page 4 of Loving You

Easily the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Fortunately for me and my desire to maintain my sanity and focus, the appeal of that beauty came to a screeching halt as soon as she opened her mouth and started flirting with anything that moved.

If I was the marrying type, April was the good-time gal—always ready to be out on the town or toss out a joke too sexual for public consumption.

Though looking at her now from my porch security camera as she wobbled on ridiculously high heels that made her legs look insanely long and smoothed down her skirt, she didn’t have the usual aura I’d come to think of as “let’s hope none of the customers are listening to whatever comes out of her mouth.”

April was brash and pushy and not at all my type. Well, other than physically, because she was absolutely the stuff of fantasies in that regard.

But after seeing my brothers settle down with their partners, I had no more desire to hook up with someone I didn’t see a future with than I had when I was younger. Which was to say not at all. I’d never been someone for casual. I’d left the indiscriminate hookups and “oats sowing” to my brothers while I kept the family and the business afloat.

I scowled at the video feed, impatience filling me until I exhaled roughly and paced to the door, yanking it open right as she touched the doorbell. It chimed cheerily inside the house as we stood there eying each other.

By choice, as always, I did not take her in fully. Something about her made me feel a little weak and a little wild, and it was far easier to avoid slipping into either inconvenient state by avoiding any real appreciation for her magnificence.

Because she was always goddam magnificent.

“Um, hi,” she said, a little chagrined and more taken aback than I would’ve anticipated.

“This is your version of ten minutes late?” I pointedly glanced at my watch, well aware it was an asshole move.

Her lashes fluttered, and her plush lips thinned. “I apologize. I thought I’d only be ten minutes late, but I— Well, it turned out to be more.”

“Over an hour more.”

She nodded. “Again, I’m sorry. As you know, that’s not typical.”

I studied her, waiting to hear the usual excuses someone might give to soften the frustration of being tardy. Maybe she’d gotten a flat, though that wouldn’t fly when I knew she would’ve walked from her apartment to the coffee shop. Or maybe she’d had another meeting run over. No such explanation came.

But the lack of explanation wasn’t the most remarkable thing about her right now. That persistent apology was my first clue because April and I didn’t often apologize to one another.

And the second clue? Her entire demeanor.

When April Carrigan walked into a room, everyone knew it. The energy and party arrived with her. She and Sammy were a lot alike in that way, though where Sammy was silly and sensitive at heart, April was… something else.

In truth, I used to think I’d had her figured out, but lately, the more we interacted for work, the more I’d begun to question whether my initial assessment of her as a noisy, overly sexual, too-in-your-face flirt was accurate.

It was the flex in her jaw and a look in her eye. It was the way she seemed to be bracing herself as she crossed her arms over her chest. It prompted me out of my default way of dealing with her. “No need to continue apologizing. Please, come in.”

Her brows jumped, but she nodded and stepped through the door.

And that’s when it hit me. April was here, inside my home. I rarely had people over, and I couldn’t remember the last time someone without the last name Walker had entered these walls unless I’d been paying them to do renovation work.

Her heels clicked along the stone entryway, and she stopped at the wood floor where the open-concept living room and kitchen began.

“This is…” she glanced back at me, genuine surprise in her eyes. “This isso nice.”

I stayed a smile because that response wasn’t cute or charming. It simply showed how little she knew about me. “Thank you.”

There were few things I cared about beyond family and work. And yes, the rumors were true—I loved to work. It motivated me, satisfied me, and helped justify my existence.

Why was I here if not to do what I could for the family business and the family itself?

But if I wasn’t at work, I was here. And if I was going to spend time somewhere, I wanted it to be as comfortable and aesthetically pleasing as possible. It’d taken me years to get the house to where I wanted it, but I’d owned it for almost a decade now, and other than finishing a few things in the basement, it looked exactly how I’d planned.

“It’s just… I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.” Her hand shot out and gestured to the room with my super-comfortable couch and the chair I spent most of my time in.

A stonework fireplace had come with the house, and I’d kept it as is, appreciating the way it offset the wood floors. Plus, there was nothing like a fire during the Colorado winter. As long as there wasn’t a burn ban, I often used it other times of the year. There was just something about being cozied up by the fireplace.

I moved past her, into the living room and through to the kitchen. “What were you expecting?”

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