Wright with Benefits (Wright Series #8) - K.A. Linde Page 0,26

get measurements and the landlord was about to rip out all of the hardwood due to the water damage. Plus, Chinese did sound pretty amazing.

A lingering part of me said that I should be mad at Jordan. The last three years had been rocky between us at best, openly hostile at worst. It was strange to want to ditch my own house for his mansion and peace and quiet. I wasn’t even thinking about the sex. Okay, maybe just a little.

But giving in felt like an admission. Maybe just staying home was the right idea.

“Nah, I’ll pass. Thanks for the offer though.”

“All right,” he said, carefully masking what sounded like disappointment. “I’m about to leave the office. Text me if you change your mind.”

I hung up and stepped into my own house. I’d made the right decision. I was sure of it. We weren’t dating. I wasn’t going to go over to his house for no reason. After I’d slept over twice this weekend.

A yawn broke free as I pushed into the living room. Sleep always got harder once the semester started.

Last semester, I’d taken much of November and December off from rotations for all of my interviews. It was a whirlwind of residency programs. I didn’t get to see much of any one city, except the cab ride from the airport and the inside of the hospitals, which all looked the same. I’d lost more sleep from interviewing than from rotations, and I still hadn’t caught up. Even with a few weeks ostensibly off.

Jennifer was editing images on the small breakfast nook table, which was cluttered with her equipment. I frowned. Definitely no space for me to get to work. Fuck.

“Hey, Jen,” I said. “How’s editing?”

“The grueling part of the job,” she said as she clicked incessantly in Photoshop.

“Are you even halfway through last weekend’s wedding?”

She shook her head. “Nope,” she said and then glanced up at me with a smile. The top half of her blonde bob was in a bun, and her hazel eyes glittered with excitement. This was the Jennifer that I adored. Completely unassuming, full of joy, and confident in her abilities. But when she stepped out of her circle of confidence in photography was when she fell apart. She’d had anxiety her entire life, and while it was managed, she still slipped when she got into uncomfortable situations. Like…Julian Wright.

“But it’s okay. I had the most beautiful bride, and Evan was second shooter. So, we had a great time.”

I smiled inwardly. She didn’t realize that her second shooter, Evan, was totally into her. Not that I intended to point it out.

“I’m glad you did,” I said as I retreated to my room.

My body sagged when I looked at my once-beautiful room and the mess it was now. The warped boards, the damage to the baseboards, the empty closet, a few Amazon boxes scattered around the room. I’d had to order new shoes for my upcoming interviews, and I might have gone overboard. As with everything. Suddenly, it all felt like too much. There was no way that I was going to get any work done.

I slung my backpack down on the bed and thought about screaming.

One bad day, and I’d had to suffer the consequences for months. I opted for a quick shower, towel-drying my messy red hair and pulling it up into a neat ponytail. Then I started packing a bag.

I wasn’t sure when I’d decided to go to Jordan’s, but suddenly, I was on his doorstep with a change of clothes and my backpack. I rang the doorbell.

Jordan appeared a minute later, opening the door cautiously. He was still in his suit. He must have just gotten home. Considering it was an hour later than when we’d talked, he must have stayed even later at work after I declined.

His eyebrows shot up. “Annie.” He slipped the door open wider. “Come in.”

“I should have texted,” I said automatically, twirling the claddagh ring around my finger.

“You’re in luck. I ordered enough Chinese for a family of four. There was a special.”

I laughed softly, staring around at his mansion and marveling that someone with that much money still appreciated specials. “Sesame chicken?” I asked hopefully.

“That’s my favorite,” he said, shutting the door. “So definitely.”

I exhaled softly. “Well, great. I like Mongolian beef, too.”

“Also included in my family pack,” he said, following me into the kitchen.

“Jesus,” I whispered.

A dozen little white Chinese boxes were spread out like a feast. He hadn’t been kidding about enough for