Hanging On (Jessica Brodie Diaries #2)(98)

“If your parents sold their house in California, they could probably buy the ranch and this house with the money,” I moderated.

“How do you figure?” Lump asked, looking at a garden gnome.

“Your parent’s house probably goes for about a million, right?”

“A million?” William asked, leaning against the car.

“William, don’t be dense—California real estate is insane. It’s a four-bedroom home with a two-car garage in a nice neighborhood. It’s no mansion—“

“Not even close!” Lump interrupted.

“—but it’s worth about a million for where it’s at in LA.”

“You couldn’t buy both this house and Adam’s ranch with that—Adam has expanded a great deal in the last few years—he’s turning a great profit and investing wisely. You couldn’t buy both, no.” William’s eyes got distant as he did numbers in his head. “But you could certainly buy a great deal out here. Three of these houses, probably.”

“Can we just go in, now?” Lump asked.

William shrugged. I could tell he was wondering why Lump was so put off by all this. I was, too. Something was eating away at her, but damned if I knew what. Now was not the greatest time to ask.

We lumbered up the porch steps, staring cockeyed at the rocking chairs, which were a bit lopsided and odd-looking.

“Adam made those,” William remarked.

“Shut up!” I said loudly, looking closer.

If they were in a store, you’d wonder if the manufacturer was smoking crack when he made them. They kind of leaning to the side with some pieces that didn’t quite fit with others. I wondered if it’d break when I sat down. But if Adam made them, who wasn’t a freaking wood-worker with a bunch of machines, then they were awesome.

Still, I’d hesitate to sit. They did not look sturdy.

As I turned my eyes back to the door, intending to knock, Adam swung it open with a, “Hey. Nearly ready.”

He gestured us in, but the movement only emphasized what had my eyes guiltily mesmerized. The guy was shirtless, and had a body extremely similar to William’s.

I mean, yes, I knew he had the broad shoulders. You could see that through his shirts. But his shirts were generally loose. There was a hint of peck, and an occasional peek-a-boo of defined bicep, but I’d never seen it all put together.

His torso, rippled with defined muscle, was tanned. He had dark, curly chest hair and a small, nasty looking scar on the right side of his stomach. His abs were a cut six-pack with a happy trail of dark hair leading down into his fun zone.

It wasn’t that seeing a muscled guy was strange to me. Aside from William, I’d seen a million nice upper bodies at the gym, in ads, and all over TV. In L.A., where everyone wanted to be an actor or model, it was almost a norm.

But it was Adam! A sexual type flush was way wrong. And gross! He was a brother to me. He was a caretaker. He shouldn’t have surprised me with muscles! It didn’t give my logical brain time to realize it wasn’t a big deal!

I yanked my eyes away, desperate to look anywhere but at his bare chest. I heard a “Holy f**k!” behind me. Lump had been caught off guard, too. She probably also had the same thoughts. Not about the guilt, but she didn’t want to see this guy as a sex-symbol, either. She’d categorized him as scary, and therefore, off-limits. Her head was probably going pear-shaped. Together we'd be a fruit bowl.

She didn’t have her boyfriend following her up the steps, though! I definitely won the this is totally awkward contest!

“Hey Adam,” I remarked nonchalantly, lifting my foot up the last step as my eyes swung off to the left. I wasn’t sure where to look other than needing to look elsewhere.

“Hi Jess—“

It was then that my brain, not closely monitoring anything but my eyes and thoughts, forgot to tell my foot to keep stepping up. As such, I caught the step with my toe and lost my balance, tipping forward. Being that I still would not look at Adam’s chest and abs, and definitely did not want to touch said chest and abs, I started flailing, determined to fall on my face in order to keep things PG-13. But Adam was too nice, and too quick, to let that happen, damn him.

He easily grabbed my shoulders and half lifted me up the step, which probably would have worked out well, if not for Lump falling into me. Her full weight hit my back, pushing me forward—into Adam’s bare skin.

“Oh no!” I cried, trying to pull my hands away from flesh as if it burned.

I struggled out of his hands, trying to angle my body to the side so I could fall in peace. He wouldn’t freaking let go, though, now also trying to right Lump. I kept flailing, pushing off then getting freaked out and recoiling, trying to fall but held up by one strong arm. Seeing that strong arm taxed, so similar to William’s, made my brain buzz in white noise, desperate to block out all semblance of Sexy-Man thoughts, and I pushed harder, then recoiled again.

“Willie, quit touching me!” Lump yelled.

Sounded like she’d just joined the awkward club. Falling into a hot man in front of a boyfriend wasn’t great, but having your friend’s boyfriend grabbing you while thinking of muscles and bare chest wasn’t great, either. We both struggled to the side now, trying to get away, until finally both boys, in sheer confusion, lost hold and let us tumble to the wooden porch in a mess of arms and legs.