Ready or Not (Ready #4)(20)

“So, you don’t hate her?” he asked.

“No, I don’t. I thought I would, but she’s not that bad.”

“So, why the balloons?”

Thinking back, I remembered the overwhelming feeling of jealousy that had sparked through me when I saw another man walking up to Liv’s door this evening. He’d looked over at me and nodded, a smug grin spreading across his face, as he’d smoothed out his hair and straightened his shirt. Every muscle in my body had tightened as I’d wanted to leap over the fence and show him the way back to his car.

She wasn’t mine to claim, which meant I’d have to deal with the endless parade of men who came knocking at her door. But that hadn’t meant I couldn’t ruin this one’s evening a little.

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

The sun had barely risen over the horizon when I heard a faint knocking coming from my front door. It increased in volume as I lay in bed, trying to figure out who would be crazy enough to visit at this ridiculous hour.

The night before suddenly flashed before my eyes, and I grinned.

Jumping out of bed, I didn’t bother with throwing on a T-shirt before racing down the stairs to answer my early morning visitor.

“Good morning, Liv,” I said after opening the door and serving her a megawatt smile.

She stood before me in tight spandex shorts that hugged her muscled trim thighs and accentuated the curves of her body. Her hot pink sports bra nearly had me coming unglued as my eyes settled on the perfect little valley of cleavage between her breasts.

“I believe this is yours,” she said, holding a bright red balloon in her left hand.

I smiled, leaning languidly against the doorframe. “Hmm…looks familiar. Where did you find it?”

Her eyes roamed up my bare chest before she thrust the balloon at my head. “You know exactly where I found it, asshat! In my house—along with its five hundred brothers and sisters!”

“Actually, it’s eight hundred and forty-three. We counted—for fun,” I added.

I saw a grin tugging at her bottom lip before she tried to straighten it.

“How the hell did you get into my house?”

“Well, I was the last one out,” I stated, playfully waggling my eyebrows at her.

Her eyes widened. “That whole charade with you coming over was just so you could get into my house later?”

“Well, that, and I got to see you in your pretty dress,” I said with a wink.

She shook her head. “You’re impossible. And you roped your son into breaking and entering? Terrible.”

“In your professional opinion, is that better or worse than teaching him how to vandalize a home?” I questioned.

Her face went blank. “That was totally different.”

I laughed. “Of course.”

We reached an impasse, and I could see her hesitating, her eyes darting around, as she tried to grasp for something else to say. I watched her beginning to form a word, and I knew she was about to leave, so I did the only thing I could think of. I stopped her.

“Hey, are you about to go for a run?” I asked, pointing down at her shorts and running shoes like an idiot.

I’m so smooth.

“Yep.”

“Mind if I join you?”

She looked me over once again, and I smiled.

“Just give me a minute to write a note for Noah and change?”

She nodded, and I motioned for her to come inside. I watched her take a seat in the same spot where she’d sat when she last visited. I briefly wondered what it had been like when she visited Nana.

Is that where she sat? What did they speak about over those long visits for so many years?

I should have been jealous of the woman who had spent so much time with my grandmother, but instead, I was grateful to her. I was thankful Nana had had someone like Liv around when I hadn’t been there.

When my world had been turned upside down with the news of Noah, I’d become driven and focused on one thing only—my child.

From the moment he had come screaming into this world, everything revolved around him. Even my career had become about him. I wanted to be someone he could look up to and respect. I’d worked hard to get to where I was, finishing college by night and taking classes in between working forty hours a week. Nothing I’d accomplished was ever easy, but I’d managed it all. I hoped he would one day see that anything in life was possible if he tried hard enough.

I jotted a few words onto a sticky note and stuck it on his door before racing into my room to change. The note would probably go unnoticed since he tended to sleep until I’d pull him out of bed and force him to get ready for the day camp where he went while I was at work.

He’d tried to persuade me that he was old enough to stay home by himself, but I wasn’t quite convinced.

A couple of minutes later, I was back downstairs in a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt, ready to go.

“No shirtless running today, Jackson?” she mocked as we walked out the door.

“Wouldn’t want to cause a riot.” I grinned as we stretched.

We started out slow, jogging down the street at a leisurely pace, as our muscles warmed and lengthened.

“Do you run every morning?” I asked as my feet hit a steady rhythm.

“No, I try to mix it up. I ride my bike some days and do yoga on other days. I get bored easily.”