Middle of Knight (3 page)

The woman, to whom the rules did not apply, returned with a small black box. Ryn raised a brow.

“I’ll open it for you. I’m Jillian, by the way.”

Ryn followed as Jillian’s boots squeaked with each step through the dewy grass to AJ’s front door. “Uh … that doesn’t look like a key,”

“It’s a universal key. Comes in quite handy. You should think about getting one. I’m sure this isn’t the first house you’ve been locked out of.”

Ryn replied with a nervous laugh. “I’m not sure what the neighbors would think of me using a lock-picking set to open a client’s door.”

“They’d think you’re ingenious.” Jillian turned the handle and the door opened. “Well, at least that’s what I’d think if I saw you doing it.” She returned the picks to the box and closed it.

“What if he asks how I got in?”

Jillian grinned with pride. “Tell him I let you in. It’s the truth, and trust me, he won’t ask you any more questions after that.”

Ryn gave her an easy nod. “Thanks. I’d better get to work.”

Jillian smiled, took a few steps toward home, then turned. “Are you taking new clients?”

Ryn grabbed two buckets of supplies from the back of her car. “I could probably take on one more, but it would have to be a weekly client. I have a two hour slot on Tuesday afternoons, but it’s not enough time for a bi-weekly job. More dirt. More time.”

“My brother and I could use someone to do some light cleaning, if you’re interested.”

“Your brother?”

Jillian laughed. “Yes. My roommate happens to be my brother, for now. We just moved here.”

“Well, yeah … if you want Tuesdays I could put you on my schedule. When I’m done here, I can come over and give you an estimate if you’ll still be home.”

Jillian didn’t really need an estimate, but it seemed like the normal thing to expect so she went with it. “Sure. If I’m not home Jackson will be. And, just a fair warning … he’s going to like you.” She winked at Ryn.

An uneasy smile formed along her lips. “Excuse me?”

“Just ignore everything he says or does. He’s taken a vow of celibacy. Some days are easier than others.”

*

“We hired AJ’s
cleaning lady to clean this pit on Tuesdays, and she’ll be dropping by to give an estimate when she’s done with his place. So be nice and keep your dick in your pants. I’m going to watch Lilith.” Jillian pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

“
We
hired her?” He loved how his sister made decisions for both of them without consulting him.

“Yes.”

“And
why
do you think my dick will wander from my pants?”

She insulted him with her lack of trust. He was a changed man.

Her answer began with a sigh. “Because she’s older than you—maybe late thirties, early forties. And she’s pretty.”

Jackson crossed his arms. “Elaborate on pretty.”

“She’s most likely married with kids, two fish, and a dog, so I don’t know why it matters.”

“Elaborate on pretty.” He held firm.

“Five-seven, a hundred and thirty pounds, shy smile, an inverted bob cut with wavy shades of blond, light blue eyes, and freckles. Bye.” She shut the door.

After piecing all the descriptives into a mental image, he looked down at his crotch. “Yeah, buddy, this could be a problem.”

Several hours later, while in the middle of his lesson, a few soft taps rapped on the door.

“Keep playing. I’ll only be a minute.”

He opened the door. “Hello.” The smile that curled along his lips continued to grow as he stole a few extra seconds to just look. It didn’t hurt to look. “You must be AJ’s housekeeper.”

“Yes. Ryn Middleton.” She strained her neck to the side. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

“I’m in the middle of a lesson, but Jillian said you’d be coming by. Come in. Feel free to scope out the place. You won’t bother us.”

A nice smile, indeed shy but genuine, graced her mesmerizing face as she nodded. Although, it was her eyes that held his attention, a stark change from his past. He usually couldn’t remember a woman’s name, let alone her eye color. The exception, however, stood in front of him with the most brilliant blue eyes that faded to icy blue halos right next to her pupils. They drew him in like a hypnotic spiral—an idiot just staring at her.

“Oh…” he moved to the side and grinned “…yes, come in.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

His student continued to kill his piano by playing her own made-up chords that had him dreaming of physically harming her. Ryn didn’t need to whisper. Her voice offered an angelic reprieve from the musical massacre going on in the background.

The distracted piano teacher, with his head in the gutter, sat back down by his student while Ryn surveyed their place. No wedding band shackled her finger, but it was possible she didn’t wear one while cleaning. Five or so minutes later she paused near the front door, writing something on a pad of paper.

“Play that song again,” he told his student. His mind screamed,
Get out! And never touch Black Beauty again.

Jackson’s new obsession smiled as he approached her. “Here’s the estimate.”

“Great. So I’ll see you Tuesday.”

Her brow furrowed a bit. “You…” she gestured to the piece of paper “…didn’t even look at it.”

Jackson looked at it for two quick seconds. “Great. So I’ll see you next Tuesday.”

Ryn chuckled. “Twelve-thirty.”

He nodded. “If you need to discuss that time with your
husband
and call us back that’s fine.”

Ryn peaked a single brow. “I’m pretty sure women asking their husbands’ permission to schedule work went out of style a couple generations ago. Twelve-thirty on Tuesday.”

A terrible answer. What was he supposed to deduce from that? A simple “I’m not married” or “I don’t need my husband’s permission” were the acceptable answers. At least they would have been clear answers; the only acceptable answer was the first one.

*

Shit. Shit. Shitty.
Shit. Shit. That pretty much summed up Ryn’s thoughts on her new clients, specifically the tattooed sex-on-a-stick that taught piano lessons. Guys that looked like that did not teach piano lessons. Then there were those geeky glasses with the white tape on the bridge. Was it wrong that within thirty seconds of him answering the door her mind had him crawling up her body wearing nothing but those glasses? Probably.

Damn hormones.

His eyes and that smile—she knew flirting when she saw it. Or maybe it was teasing. Flirting said “I want you.” Teasing said “You want me, but you don’t have a chance in the world. Ryn had to think on that one.

Celibacy.

Jackson didn’t look like a priest, but there really wasn’t any other good explanation. He probably played the organ at church. A tattooed organ-playing priest. And his age—
younger
. He had to be in his sexual prime. That explained Jillian’s warning. His carnal needs warred with his spiritual calling and his type had been reduced to a simple category: women. When a person suffers from starvation, they’re not choosy. They just crave food.

Any woman would be tempting after going so long—or maybe forever—without sex. Was it possible? Was Jackson a virgin?

Ryn tore through her last house on autopilot and dragged her tired, aging ass into the shower. Three weeks separated her from the big four-oh. It wasn’t a huge deal, except she would be forty and single with a twenty-one-year-old daughter and an ex-husband with a restraining order against him. She really knew how to pick ’em.

The most important male in her life was Gunner—her ten-year-old German shepherd. She adopted him as a pup and they went through years of training together. The perfect guard dog, obedient to her like a soldier.

“Should we call Maddie?”

Gunner tilted his head to the side. Ryn towel dried her hair while plopping down on the bed and grabbing the phone.

“Not now, Mom.”

“Nice to talk to you too, Maddie.”

“Well you call me every day. I have a date. Some of us have a life, you know.”

Ryn knew. How could she not? Her daughter reminded her of it all the time.

“I thought we could do a spa day for my birthday.”

“I have to work on your birthday. Need I remind you why that is?”

No. She didn’t need to hear it again. Maddie’s father pulled her college funding when Ryn filed the restraining order. Maddie complained that her mother overreacted. She didn’t, but Maddie had no way of knowing that because Ryn sheltered her from all the ugly. It was a mother’s sacrifice and Ryn never regretted it, even when her daughter treated her with disrespect and contempt.

“Well, if you find someone to work for you—”

“I won’t.”

The usual sigh escaped Ryn. Someday Maddie would understand that no amount of money justified selling both of their souls to the Devil. And Preston Iverson was the devil.

“Madison … I love you.” Ryn ended the call before her stubborn daughter had a chance to respond. Of course she loved her only child, but she had too much respect for herself to tolerate any more snide comments. It was like strikes—after three, Ryn ended the conversation.

“That went well.”

Gunner did another head tilt. He had her back, licked her tears, and never once complained. Maybe she needed to take Maddie to obedience school too.

J
illian meandered home
after leaving Dodge and Lilith’s. She wasn’t ready to go inside and deal with Jackson, the second text, and the ramifications of AJ’s diagnosis. Choosing the temporary sanctuary of the front porch stoop, she plopped down and watched her neighbors grilling out and tending to their yards and plants. The breeze ebbed and flowed, carrying the smoky aroma of Stan’s charcoal grill and the droning screech of cicadas.

A small part of her waited for AJ to come home, which was ridiculous because she had no idea what to say to him. Maybe if she could see him, fall into his arms, the right words would come to her. If only he could feel the conflict that warred inside of her, he’d realize that her past didn’t matter. Maybe. If only. But doubtful.

“Hey, kiddo. Did you look over the notes and the profit and loss statement?” Stan asked, hobbling his way up her driveway, shoulders slumped, sweat dripping from his brow, and muddy gardening knee pads still strapped to his legs. The guy never stopped working.

“I did.” Briefly.

“Anything we could improve on?”

“You spend too much money on snow removal. Granted, I’m not from around here, but I have a feeling your plow guys show up the second there’s a light dusting in the middle of the night. Then there’s the insane amount of money going toward insurance. When lightning struck the Dickson’s house and caused damage to the roof, that was a legitimate claim for the association’s policy. But the most recent claim from the kitchen fire started by the Anderson’s college-aged daughter, who doesn’t even live there? That should have been a claim for their personal homeowner’s insurance.”

“Well, we try not to discriminate.”

“I think the association needs to worry less about discrimination and more about taking it up the backside. It’s okay to be neighborly at picnics, but when you’re responsible for people’s money, you have to treat it like a business and have guidelines and boundaries in writing.”

Stan nodded. “I’ll talk to Dodge about it.” He seemed a bit disappointed in her opinion.

“Sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear, but you asked my honest opinion.”

“No, no … that’s fine. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. It’s not like this is your area of expertise.”

Yes, it was. But he would never know that.

After Stan left, she lay back on the warm concrete stoop, letting the setting sun hit her face. Everything she shared with Lilith replayed like a highlight reel to her favorite movie. Since AJ went AWOL, Luke filled the empty void—which was ironic because up until that point, her entire existence as Jillian Knight felt like one big Luke-shaped void.

*