“Oh, you have it like that, huh?”

  He laughs as he reaches up to wipe the sweat dripping down my temple. “Don’t forget to bring some food for Gary. Unless you don’t mind feeding him protein shakes.”

  I glance at his solid chest and the shirt that hugs him in all the right places. “Is that your secret?”

  He kisses the tip of my nose and chuckles as he walks away. “See you tonight.”

  I blow him a kiss. He pretends to catch it in his hand and stuff it in the pocket of his jeans for later. Stopping at the entrance of the honey house, his face breaks into a gorgeous smile.

  He puffs out his chest as he looks around. “Look at you… saving the bees.”

  He lets out a small huff of pride, then shakes his head as he turns around and leaves. It’s just one sentence—one small gesture—but it means the world.

  9

  Like Candy

  The address Jake gave me for his one-bedroom apartment leads me to a high-rise condominium building on Bellevue Way, right next to the Amazon complex. When I googled the address this past weekend, the life nearly drained from my body when I saw the property values displayed on the various real estate websites.

  The market price for each condo unit in Jake’s building range anywhere from two to ten times the value of my parents’ house in Duvall. And none of the units I saw had over three bedrooms. My parents’ house has four bedrooms and almost twice the square-footage.

  I’m now certain that Jake turned twenty-five somewhere between the day we met and the day he sought me out at the farmers’ market. Because if he bought this with bar tips, I’m in the wrong fucking profession.

  The security booth leading into the underground parking garage beneath the condos is manned by a young, boxy gentleman with a military haircut and no apparent desire to smile.

  As I come to a stop outside the tiny booth, he emerges with a pen and notepad in his hand. Without saying a word, he walks around my car, jotting down my license plate number and noting the make and model displayed on the back, then he returns to my open driver’s side window.

  He glances at the notepad in his hand, then at Gary in the backseat, before he looks me in the eye. “Colette Baker?”

  “Yes, sir,” I reply nervously, suddenly feeling as if this is a traffic stop.

  “Can I see some ID?”

  After passing him my Washington State driver’s license, he takes it to the booth and types some stuff into his computer before he hands it back.

  “Is this your current home address?”

  “No. I just moved,” I reply, then I spout off my new apartment address as he enters it into the system.

  “You’re all set.”

  He reaches for something on the counter next to his computer monitor, which looks like a small safe. He uses his fingerprint to unlock it and reaches inside to retrieve something.

  “Mr. Maxwell has given permission for you to receive a transmitter, so you don’t have to go through the security check next time you visit. Would you like one?”

  I stare at the small, square electronic device in his palm. “Is it common for guests to have those?”

  His serious expression finally breaks as his mouth curls into a smile that reveals perfect teeth. “Not really, but we have a couple residents who give them out like candy. But if he’s offering you a transmitter, take it. It will make it a lot easier, if you plan on visiting often.”

  I want to ask him if Jake is the resident who gives out transmitters “like candy,” but I don’t think that would be appropriate.

  “Sure, I’ll take it,” I say, holding my hand out.

  “I’ll put it on for you.”

  He peels a sticker off the back of the device to expose the adhesive backing. Then he presses it against the bottom-left corner on the inside of my windshield, giving it a few pats for good measure.

  “You’re all set. Have a nice evening, Miss Baker.”

  “You too.”

  My stomach is bursting with nervous butterflies as the wooden arm is raised, and I pull into the underground garage. The guest parking section is right near the entrance, with plenty of open spots. I choose a space in the far corner of the garage nearest the elevator.

  Pressing the ignition button to turn off my tiny electric car, I flinch when a figure appears at my door.

  “You scared me,” I say, clutching my chest as I realize it’s Jake.

  He smiles as he opens the door for me. “Sorry about that,” he says, kissing my cheek as I exit the car. “Brock let me know you were here, so I came down to help.”

  “Thanks.”

  He glances at the transmitter on my windshield and looks pleased as he closes the driver’s side door. Turning his attention to the backseat, his face beams at the sight of Gary. My dog is standing on the seat, his entire body wiggling with excitement at the sight of his new buddy. Jake opens the rear passenger door and Gary leaps out with the energy of a dog half his age.

  “Hey, bud,” Jake says, crouching to let Gary lick his face. “I missed you too.”

  I shake my head as I reach into the backseat for the orange backpack I brought containing my toiletries, a change of clothing, and Gary’s food.

  “I’ll get your bag,” Jake says, smacking my ass to get my attention.

  He hitches the backpack onto his shoulder and holds his hand out for Gary’s leash. As we make our way to the elevator, I can’t help but notice how fucking good he looks in his gray athletic pants and Seahawks T-shirt.

  In the elevator, he presses the button for the seventh floor and smiles at me as the doors slide shut. “You look beautiful today. As always.”

  I smile as my heart feels ready to explode. “You look pretty fucking great yourself.”

  He glances down at his athletic clothes and chuckles. “I hope your jean shorts are comfortable, because I have a self-care slumber party planned for us.”

  “Self-care?” I reply with a laugh.

  “Yep. Even Gary’s getting in on this shit. We’re gonna paint his nails. Right, bud?” he says, reaching down to scratch Gary’s head as my dog peers up at Jake as if he’s looking at God himself. “Do you prefer pink or black polish?” He smiles as Gary rubs his snout against his pants. “That’s what I thought. Pink it is.”

  “Jesus Christ. Get a room,” I tease him.

  He shoots me a smug grin. “Jealous?”

  I roll my eyes as the elevator doors slide open. “You guys may have chemistry, but I’m the one he comes home to at night.”

  Jake laughs as he leads us into a long, brightly lit corridor with horizontally textured, beige wallpaper and expensive looking quartz floors in a shimmery slate-blue color.

  “I’m not trying to steal Gary from you, but I might fight you for visitation rights if you ever try to keep this lazy bastard from me.”

  “Did you hear that, Gary? He called you a lazy bastard.”

  Jake shakes his head as we approach a large wood door. A silver plaque on the wall displays the unit number 709.

  “Gary understands I love him just the way he is,” Jake says. “But I’m still taking him for a run in the morning.”

  I chuckle at his lofty plans. “Good luck with that.”

  “I won’t push him too hard,” he says, glancing at me as he reaches for the keypad on the door handle. “The code is 1674.”

  He flashes me a sexy grin as he thrusts the door open. My mouth curves into a tentative smile as I wonder why he’s giving me the code for his door. Is he returning the favor for the time I drunkenly gave him the code to my parents’ security alarm?

  But my memories of that first day together vanish as we enter Jake’s condo. The walls of the wide foyer are a pristine, muted white, as if they’ve never been touched. A door on my right is painted the same color as the walls and probably leads to a coat closet. At the end of the corridor is a large, sliding black door inlaid with panels of privacy glass. It’s open, so I can see it leads into an office.

  Jake closes the door behind us and unclips Gary’s leash before opening the coat closet.

  “I’ll put your stuff in the bedroom,” he says as he hangs the leash on a proper set of hooks on the inside of the closet door.

  No rusty nails sticking out of the wall in this condo.

  I leave my shoes in the closet and follow him farther inside. As we turn a corner at the end of the corridor, the butterflies I was feeling earlier disappear. I’m now feeling a different emotion. One I don’t think I’ve ever felt it before.

  I stare at the clean angles of the modern teak cabinetry, the expansive kitchen island with the waterfall marble countertop. I’m overwhelmed with feelings of awe and inadequacy.

  “This is something I’d see on Pinterest,” I say, unable to hold in my thoughts.

  He laughs as he shows Gary the brand-new dog bed in the living room.

  I noticed while googling the condo that almost every unit in the building has a different floor-plan, though they all feature high-end kitchen appliances that each cost as much as my car and floor-to-ceiling windows in the living spaces. Jake’s living room looks out onto a wide balcony enclosed with a glass safety panel, so as not to block the magnificent view of the city lights and Lake Washington.

  “I take it you turned twenty-five,” I say, finally giving voice to the question that’s been niggling me for almost two weeks.

  “I don’t turn twenty-five until January.”

  His words fall like bombs in the landscape of my mind, blowing apart the theory I had about the source of his new wealth. If he’s still twenty-four, where the hell did he get the money to afford a place like this? And why the hell is it inappropriate to ask something like that at the beginning of a relationship?

  As these thoughts race through my mind, I remember the Amazon complex I passed on the way here. His condo is in the heart of the tech sector in Bellevue.

  Is it possible he used some of the grant money he received for his thesis project to buy this place? That doesn’t seem right, unless he got some venture-capital-level funding, which seems unlikely for a software project involving first responders. Then again, what the hell do I know about software development and data science thesis projects?

  “There’s a bathroom in there,” Jake says, motioning to the sliding white door on our right. “And there’s a full en suite in the bedroom, through there,” he says, pointing at the door on the other side of the apartment between the kitchen and the living room.

  He leads me into the bedroom and deposits my backpack onto a padded bench near the door. Some running sneakers are positioned neatly on the floor next to the bench. I smile at the modern king-sized bed with the padded taupe headboard—the one he was longing for while he slept diagonally on my tiny full-sized mattress.

  I turn to him as Gary leaves the bedroom, probably headed for his new bed in the living room.

  “So, what do you have planned for this little self-care slumber party?”

  “First things first,” he says as he reaches up to cup my face and kisses me.

  I pull away, but I can’t stop myself from licking my lips to get another taste of him.

  “Self-care first. Sexual healing second,” I say with a smug grin.

  He chuckles as he takes my hand to lead me back into the living room.

  As we take a seat on the immaculate, cream-colored sofa, I notice a wooden box on the glass coffee table. It’s filled with self-care items, like packets of Korean beauty sheet masks and nail polish.

  “What the hell is that?” I say, unable to hold back my amusement.

  He uses an Apple remote to turn on his TV and navigate to a movie in his library. “We’re gonna paint Gary’s nails and put on some face masks while we watch the latest Bond flick. Isn’t that what chicks do at slumber parties?”

  “Minus the Bond flick, probably. I wouldn’t know. I don’t think I ever went to a typical slumber party.”

  Jake raises an eyebrow as he turns on the movie and immediately pauses it. “Really? You look like a slumber party kind of girl.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He laughs as he sets down the remote. “I don’t know. No offense, but you seem like a pretty hardcore suburban girl to me. I think it’s kinda cute.”

  “No offense taken,” I say as I curl my legs up on the sofa. “My parents didn’t let us spend the night anywhere until we were sixteen. By then, after all the bad things I heard happened at slumber parties, they lost their appeal.”

  He sits next to me and grabs a foil packet containing a sheet mask out of the wooden box. “Believe it or not, this is my first slumber party, too.”

  “You don’t say?” I remark, pretending to be shocked.

  He smiles as he peels open the foil wrapper, but his expression becomes serious as he pulls out the sheet mask.

  “Why is this so slimy? What the fuck is this?”

  I laugh as I take the mask from his fingers. “It’s covered in enzymes and stuff that’s good for your skin. Lean your head back. I’ll put it on you.”

  He cocks an eyebrow as he slowly leans his head back. “This better make me look like George Clooney.”

  “No!” I reply as I stand on my knees so I’m tall enough to reach his face. “You’re way better looking than that old dude.”

  “You think so?”

  I position the sheet above his face, trying to line up the holes in the mask with his nostrils, eyes, and mouth.

  “You know you are. Don’t play dumb with me.”

  He laughs for a moment, but he flinches a little when the mask touches his face. “It’s cold.”

  “It will warm up pretty fast with your body heat.”

  “I’d rather you warm me up with your body heat,” he says, reaching behind me to grab my ass.

  I sit back to get a better look at him, and I burst into laughter. “You look like a serial killer wearing a skin mask.”

  “Exactly the look I was going for,” he says, plucking another mask out of the wooden box. “Your turn.”

  When we both have our serial killer masks on, we burst into another fit of laughter. But my giggling stops when Jake pulls me onto his lap.

  I smile as I adjust my legs so I’m straddling him. “If I kiss you, will you promise not to eat my tongue, Hannibal Lecter?”

  He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. “I can’t make any promises, Clarice.”

  I lean over, and I giggle as my lips lands on his and our masks get stuck together. We laugh into each other’s mouths as we attempt to kiss. But we have to stop almost immediately, as the mask ingredients get in our mouths, and they taste of pure chemicals.

  I carefully separate our masks as I pull my head back. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been this happy.”

  The words spill from my mouth before I can stop them.

  His face becomes serious as his eyes lock on mine for a long moment.

  “I’ll have to get some more of these masks,” he says as his smile returns.

  I smile as I help him straighten the mask over his face, so he has an unobstructed view of the TV. As he helps me adjust mine, he assures me we’ll paint Gary’s nails after the movie. Then we cuddle up on the sofa to watch James Bond defeat another villain in style.

  Throughout the film, Jake occasionally caresses my arm, and I feel as if I’m being lulled into a blissful trance. By the time the movie is over, I’m so relaxed I could go to sleep right there—except that our masks have dried and are now stuck to our faces.

  “How long were we supposed to keep these on?” he asks as we head for the en suite bathroom.

  “I don’t know. I’ve only used a sheet mask once. I think they’re supposed to come off after, like, thirty minutes.”

  “Thirty minutes?!”

  “Don’t worry. They should come off easily with warm water.”

  He closes the bathroom door behind him and stares at it for a moment before he opens the door again. “Almost forgot Gary is asleep out there.”

  “I always close the door when I take a shower at home. He doesn’t mind. But you can leave it open if you don’t feel comfortable leaving him alone.”

  He leaves the door open just a hair, so Gary can push it open if he wants. Then he turns on the water in the glass-enclosed shower.

  As we both undress, I can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu as I recall the first shower we took together. This time, I’m not hungover, and we’ve learned each other’s bodies. And we’re also wearing masks that make us look like murderers.

  We each have our own rain shower-head that descends from the ceiling. Under the rainfall, we carefully separate the masks from our skin. He takes my discarded sheet, crumples it up with his, and tosses them both into the sink.

  “Nothing but net,” he brags as he turns back to me.

  His gaze slides down the length of my body, and his cock twitches as his eyes land on my pussy.

  “Come here,” he murmurs as he stands in the space between the two streams of water raining from the ceiling.

  I swallow hard as I step toward him, and he takes me in his arms. I wrap mine around his waist and press my cheek to his chest.

  “I missed the fuck out of you this week,” he says as he places a kiss on the top of my damp head.

  “I missed you, too,” I say, tilting my face up to look at him. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t ask me out again.”

  He shakes his head as he brushes my hair behind my ear.

  “I just got busy. But I thought of you the whole time.” He places a soft kiss on my cheekbone. “You’re always on my mind.”

  My stomach flutters as his mouth lands on mine. As his kiss deepens, his cock stiffens against my belly, and the sensation awakens a rabid desire in me.

  I pull away and smile at him as I carefully get down on my knees. He widens his stance to lower his erection to the level of my mouth.

  I remember enough from the blow-job I gave him in my bedroom at my parents’ house to know how he wants this done. Varying the pace and pressure of my mouth, I use my hand to stimulate his perineum. When I see his sac seize up, I slide his cock out of my mouth and pump his erection with my fist until my chest is covered in his semen.