Free Return of the Jerk (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 2) by Andrea Simonne

police.”
    Road turns toward her, his expression stunned.
    She crosses her arms. “I’m completely serious.”
    His brows go up as he stares at her in amazement.
    “I’ll do it, and I know you don’t want that.”
    But then his expression changes again. This time, it’s humor. White teeth flash at her, eyes full of mirth. She hasn’t seen Road laugh in a long time and forgot how much she liked it. He has a great laugh.
    Unfortunately, this is not the response she was expecting. Far from it, actually.
    He’s laughing so hard now that he actually has to put the wooden spoon down and rest his hands on the counter.
    “I fail to see what’s so amusing,” she says.
    “Damn, princess.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “The police?” And then he starts laughing all over again.
    But Blair has had enough. “Stop laughing! This isn’t funny. You kept my house key, and now you won’t leave. That’s practically breaking and entering!”
    This only makes him laugh harder.
    “You think I won’t do it? That I won’t call? I will. I’ll call them right now!”
    Finally, Road takes a deep breath and seems to gain control over himself. “Go ahead, call the cops. I don’t have a problem with it.”
    “You don’t?”
    “Course not. I’m not the one stealing something.” He gives her a look.
    “I’m not stealing Isadora!”
    “That’s not how it looks from over here. And that’s not how the law is going to see it, either. All I have to do is show them the title to my car.”
    Blair is quiet.
    “Hell, maybe I should call them myself, now that I think about it.”
    She shoots him a dark look.
    He picks up the spoon and gets back to his chicken stir fry. “Told you not to tangle with me, babe.” But then he grins. “Besides, what would you tell them anyway? That your husband refuses to leave home?”
    “This isn’t your home.”
    He looks around her condo. “I like it here.”
    “No, you don’t. You told me it looks like an Asian funeral parlor.”
    “Not exactly what I said.”
    “Close enough,” she grumbles.
    Road lets out what sounds like a weary sigh. “Do you want a beer?” He goes over to the fridge and opens the door. “Think we could both use one.”
    “No.”
    He reaches in and comes out with two bottles. She watches him search through her kitchen drawers until he finds the opener. When he’s done, he hands one over.
    “I said I didn’t want it.”
    Road puts her beer on the counter next to her and goes back to cooking. She watches him take a long draw from his bottle as he continues with the stir fry.
    Studying him from the side, she has to admit he looks sexy standing there making dinner. He’s wearing the same faded jeans and T-shirt from earlier. His blond hair tucked behind his ears.
    A shudder of wanting runs through her. Her desire for Road is so deep and familiar, it’s like an old friend returning, her shadow companion for years.
    She picks up her beer and takes a sip. “So, when did you learn how to cook?”
    “Couple years ago. Friends taught me.”
    Blair is silent. Women friends, no doubt.
    “Do you want to grab some plates, babe?”
    She opens the cabinet and gets them down, then pulls out silverware for both of them. Despite her anger, she figures they might as well eat. Road takes each plate and dishes out rice from another pot she hadn’t even noticed he was using. He loads up both plates with the stir fry.
    They take their food and beer bottles over to her small dining room table, where they sit in silence for a while as they devour the meal.
    “This is good,” Blair admits. She’s hungry, but it’s still probably the best stir fry she’s ever had. “Did you put curry in it?”
    “Thanks. And yeah, I did.”
    “I take it one of your girlfriends taught you how to cook.”
    He shakes his head. “Shared a flat with a husband and wife in Budapest and they taught me.”
    Blair raises her eyebrows in surprise.
    “We took turns cooking,” Road explains.