“You’ve never really mentioned him before, other than to say he’s a narcissist.”
I burst out laughing, considering Bora had the audacity to call someone else a narcissist. Jaxon’s eyebrows go up in surprise for my outburst, and I work hard—damn hard—to rein it in.
He really doesn’t know her at all.
Chapter 4
JAX
“Sorry,” she says through the spurts of laughter that are still sneaking out. “I don’t know why that sounded so funny.”
She’s never seemed so… sweet and cute? It’s confusing, actually. Then again, she’s acted differently since she showed up at my apartment a billion years ago. Okay, okay. Not that long ago, but that flight seemed to never fucking end, and she slept the whole way.
I was bored out of my damn mind.
“Where has that laugh been? I love it. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh that hard, and that wasn’t even funny. I’ve been working my ass off to make you laugh like that,” I tell her.
I was starting to think she didn’t even have a sense of humor.
She’s not the typical Bora today—the rude, self-indulged, stare-at-her-nails-bored Bora. Not that I’m complaining. It’ll make the next three weeks more bearable if she keeps acting like this. Maybe I won’t have to fake so much enthusiasm if she remains this pleasant.
Bora is hot, and… Well, that’s all she has going for her, really. Long dark hair that touches the bottom of her bra, a heart-shaped face that most girls would die for, and an ass that has men stopping to admire her. Add in the fact her breasts are exactly the right size—in my opinion—and the fact she has a waist that curves in, feminizing her to the nth degree, and you understand why she’s hard to pass by and not notice.
Besides, it’s not like I’m looking for someone deep and long-term right now.
“You not even going to ask about the house?” I ask after silence descends around us and steals the light moment.
She shifts uncomfortably, something she’s done a lot of today.
“What’s it like?” she asks timidly.
“It belongs to Mick Marsh, the drummer for Clashers,” I tell her, and I’ll be damned if she doesn’t spew her water and soak the dashboard.
Laughter erupts out of me so hard that it hurts, and I swerve the car when I lose my concentration. It takes a second to be able to quit laughing, and my side is killing me. She must really be a closet Clashers fan.
“Had I known you were a fan, I would have mentioned it sooner. Since you have that ring tone...”
She nods, still coughing and cleaning up her face. “Love em’,” she says hoarsely, fanning herself. Her face is hella red right now.
“Do you know him or something?” she asks, sounding more conversational than ever before.
“I wish. No. My dad bid on it at a charity auction. Mick offered it up for a three week interval, and my mom is in love with the band. So, to make her happy, my dad paid a small fortune to win the bid and have the three weeks in his house. She would have preferred to stay in Vince Jaggon’s home here, but he didn’t put it in the a
uction.”
She mutters something like unbelievable and it’s a small world, but I don’t know what she’s talking about.
“We’re here,” I tell her, causing her to look up just as we reach the massive home.
Dayum. It makes a Sterling house seem small.
It’s right on the beach, and it’s slightly elevated, keeping the water from touching it in case of a high tide. The windows extend all around the home, considering Mick Marsh is known to be a bit of an exhibitionist. The man loves attention, and bare windows give him plenty of attention.
Other homes line the beach as well, and I hope no one can see into our bedroom. There’s only one way to endure three weeks with someone as vapid as Bora.
One of these days, I’m going to learn my lesson and hide girls from my mother. Or maybe three weeks with a vixen like Bora will teach my mother her lesson.
Yeah… It’s going to be loud.