Jilted Jock - Rebecca Jenshak Page 0,15
that disappeared into those damn gray sweatpants. I turned quickly and placed the carafe back in its holder. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up. Coffee?”
“I’ll grab some in town.”
I grabbed a bright yellow mug with the words TOO BLESSED TO BE STRESSED written in pink script and filled it with coffee. “When someone offers coffee, the polite thing to do is say yes.”
He quirked a brow. “What if I don’t want it yet?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t matter if I want the coffee or not?”
“No. I was being polite.”
“And I politely declined.”
“Is that what you think you did?”
To his credit, he was silent for a moment like he was trying to remember. He picked up the mug and brought it to his lips and took a long sip. Steam billowed out and he winced at the hot liquid.
“Happy?” he asked hoarsely.
“Yes. Extremely.”
He shook his head and took a seat. “How come you don’t have as much of an accent as your brother?”
“It slips out a little more from time to time. I was three when we moved to Australia and I was an early talker so that’s probably some of it.”
“How long were you there?”
“I was twenty-one when Mum and I moved back.”
He smiled, flashing me that gorgeous mouth and white teeth. They weren’t perfectly straight on the bottom but for some reason that made me like his smile even more. “There it is. Mum. Do you miss it?”
“No, but I wish I hadn’t taken it for granted so much when I lived there. I didn’t see a lot of things I should have before we left.” I put the lid on my cup and took a careful sip. “Do you miss it?”
“No, I love California. The Pacific Coast is pretty spectacular.” He started toward the bedroom with his mug. “Add that to your list of things to be grateful for today.” With a cocky wink he was gone.
My face grew hot and I glanced at my open gratitude journal lying on the counter. He wouldn’t. But of course, he had. It wasn’t like I’d hid it. It was in plain sight so I couldn’t really be mad.
I re-read yesterday’s entries, pretty typical, mundane things like good hair day and beef wellington – nothing embarrassing except the very last one… phone sex.
As I drove to work, I took in my surroundings like it was the first time. Hermosa Beach was beautiful and hate as I might to admit it, Finn was right. I mentally scribbled it down on my gratitude list.
Along with gray sweatpants and morning voice.
Later that day I was on the phone with Richard when UPS showed up at my house.
“Finn McCash?” a short, stocky guy with a blond beard asked without looking up. There were two giant boxes at his feet, and he scanned them with his little handheld thingy.
“Uhh…”
He glanced up at me impatiently.
“He’s not here.”
“Sign here and I’ll grab the others.”
The others turned out to be a dozen more boxes just as big as the first two.
I waited up for him that night. Or rather, I was awake when he got home. Kitty sat on my lap as we watched an old episode of Man vs Wild when Finn walked through the front door.
Dark jeans, a black sweater, and a ball cap pulled low… he looked like he’d been on a date. Don’t ask me how I knew – years of dating bad boys and being picked up wearing something similar. Though none of them ever looked quite that good.
“Some boxes came,” I said absently like I wasn’t dying to know what was inside. He’d already told me the stuff from his apartment was in storage so I had no clue what could be in the large boxes.
He nodded and slowed as he took them in. They were taking up a good portion of the entryway, so there was no missing them.
He surprised me by blowing out a breath and taking a seat on the opposite end of my white couch. His long legs stretched out in front of him. Kitty walked over to him and he petted her while staring straight ahead at the TV.
“Have you named her?”
“Who?”
I pointed to his lap and he stopped like he was embarrassed to be caught petting the cat.
“She needs a name,” I insisted.
He frowned. “Her next owners can pick. She’s just kitty.”
For some reason I hated the idea of him giving her up. I got it – really, I did. It was a constant reminder of his ex,