Page 44 of Falling for Red
Giggling as he turns into a new subdivision, I take in all of the freshly built homes. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t seem like him. “What made you want to live here?” I ask, staring at the two-story white home.
He presses the button on his visor, and the garage door opens. “I didn’t want the maintenance of an old house.”
Fair enough.
“This is a big house for a single guy.”
“I like to entertain.” He reaches for the grocery bags behind us in the cab. I grab my overnight bag and slide out. “And this house will have better resale value down the road,” he says, waiting for me in front of the truck.
We step inside, and he moves efficiently, grabbing things from the cupboards. I take a moment to look around. The place is nice—really nice—but so cookie-cutter. It’s all white and greylike everything came from the same place. “This feels like an Airbnb,” I say, because it looks like a magazine without any personal touches. Not that I can say much since my house doesn’t have any personal touches either.
“I’ll probably rent it when I’m done here,” he says, pulling a cutting board out and reaching for a knife.
“Instead of selling it?” I ask, leaning on the kitchen island, staring at him.
“I am getting into real estate more and more. You can’t be a firefighter forever,” he easily says.
“Why’s that?”
“You never know when your body will start failing you. I want to be prepared, which is why I also bought an apartment investment a couple of years ago.”
I consider the pragmatism while watching him wash vegetables. “What’s it like being a landlord? Don’t people call you all the time?”
“I use a property management company. So, they handle the day-to-day.” Jake smiles at me then asks, “Do you want anything to drink?”
“What do you have?” I ask, curious what he keeps in his home.
“Tell me what you want, and I’ll let you know if I have it.”
“I don’t know why but I could go for a gin and tonic.”
He hums, bends down, and opens a cupboard. “Gin. Tonic.” Then, reaching into the fridge, he pulls out a lime. “You got it.”
“Are you going to have one too?”
“Sure.”
“I’m not peer-pressuring you, am I?” I giggle, remembering how he said he doesn’t drink that much.
He chuckles, pouring the gin into a shaker. “No.”
Watching his biceps flex as he shakes the drink, I’m reminded of something else. “Did you forget about the calendar?”
“No.” He chuckles again, pouring the drinks into rocks glasses before sliding one across to me. “Cheers, Sparky.”
“Cheers, Red.” I clink my glass against his.
“We’re settled on these nicknames then?”
“Appears so.”
A small smirk tugs at Jake’s lips as he reaches into one of the grocery bags, taking out the calendar. “For you, Sparky.”
A schoolgirl grin takes over my face as I flip through, eager to get to August. When I do, my breath catches.
“Holy shit,” I exhale.
Jake, shirtless with suspenders, fire pants, boots, and a helmet. Every inch of him is sculpted and utterly unfair.
