Fair Game (The Rules #1)(41)

“Really.” Tristan’s voice is flat, downright disbelieving. “But what makes her so different, man? I don’t get it.”

I don’t either. I’m about to tell him that but then I hear the bathroom door open and I clamp my lips shut, not about to let Jade overhear our conversation about her. I turn to face her, watching as she enters the kitchen, her gaze everywhere but on mine.

“You all right?” I ask, looking over my shoulder real quick to discover Tristan is gone. Like a ghost. He’s good at that sometimes. Other times, his timing is for shit. Like out in the garage.

She smiles but she still won’t look at me. She seems fascinated by the oven that’s just behind me. “Your kitchen is gigantic.”

“Yeah, it is.” I try to see it through her eyes but it’s hard. I’ve lived here three years. I’ve come in and out of this kitchen every day to get to the garage and I don’t pay attention to shit. I don’t really ever hang out in the kitchen, beyond rushing in for a bag of chips or a beer. “You like it?”

She goes to the oven, her fingers drifting over the burner knobs. “It’s a professional range.”

“What?”

“The oven and stove. It’s professional grade. Like, out of a restaurant.” She touches one of the burners. “It looks like it’s never been used.”

“Probably, because it really hasn’t been. Tristan and I don’t cook much,” I admit.

“Such a shame.” She sighs, her gaze finally lifting to meet mine. “I like to cook,” she admits.

“Really?” I’m surprised. But then again, I’m not because I don’t know anything about this girl. Nothing.

Jade nods. “I really like to bake. Growing up, my grandma used to bake all the time and I would help her. I’m sure I was more a pain in her butt, but she was always so patient with me.” She smiles but it’s sad and her eyes get this far away look in them. “It’s one of my favorite memories of her.”

“What’s your favorite thing to bake?” Her grandma must’ve died but I don’t want to ask. The memories might be too painful.

“Homemade cookies. Cakes. My grandma made this chocolate cake that’s to die for.” Her smile grows. “I can bake a mean apple pie too.”

“A mean one versus a nice one?” I tease, wanting to make her laugh. I don’t like thinking about her sad.

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. My grandma’s recipe is the best apple pie I’ve ever tasted. I even make the crust from scratch.”

“Wow, I’m impressed.” I take a step closer to her, catching her scent, warm and sweet. “So tell me. What’s a guy gotta do to get you to make him a chocolate cake from scratch?”

“You don’t like apple pie?” she asks, her eyes going wide when I draw even closer to her.

“I prefer cake, especially ones that are to die for.” I smile. “I like the frosting part best.”

She laughs. “I bet you were the kid who always stuck his fingers in the frosting bowl when your mom wasn’t looking.”

“My mom has never baked a thing in her life. Besides, I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen when I was a kid. I’d just get in the servants’ way.”

Her laughter dies and she stares at me as if I’ve sprouted three heads. “You had servants? As in plural?”

“My family still does.” Hell, we have the housekeeper here, not that I want to admit it to her. Nadia comes in twice a week and cleans this place up. Once a week, she shops for us, keeping the fridge and pantry full. I don’t know what we’d do without her.

“Wow.” She edges away from the oven, away from me, her hand sliding across the smooth granite countertop. Her nails are short and painted a deep red and her fingers are slender. I imagine them on me. Touching me. “I can’t even wrap my head around what that’s like.”

No one can. Tristan gets it since he comes from the same world. Gabe’s family is wealthy too. It’s why we’re such close friends. We understand each other, what it’s like to be us. Not many people can wrap their heads around it.

The doorbell rings, startling us both, and I turn toward the living room, listening as I hear Tristan answer the door, Gabe’s voice ringing through the house.

“I’ve brought the party, motherf*cker! So gimme a beer!”

Jesus, he’s obnoxious when he wants to be.

Jade sends me a look. “Your friends?”

“Yeah,” I admit. “Look, I didn’t invite them. This is all Tristan’s thing. I had nothing to do with his plans.”

“What did you plan for tonight?” She raises a delicate brow.

“We were just going to hang out,” I say innocently. The way she’s looking at me…she makes me sweat. And not necessarily in a good way. “Maybe have some ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” she asks incredulously.

I sound like the biggest idiot ever. This girl makes me say stupid things. “Well, yeah. Or whatever you want. We have a pretty full pantry.” I wave a hand toward the living room, where I hear more people entering the house through the front door. How many people did Tristan invite anyway? “Or we could go hang out with everyone and watch the baseball game. You a Giants fan?”