“Hello,” I say, nodding to the pink, polka-dot bakery box in her hands. “I’m sorry, wrong house. I didn’t order any deliveries.” I glance past her shoulder, but there’s no car. Finn accidentally got my groceries. Maybe I got his…baked goods?
“Hey, Avery,” she says, wiping one hand on the back of her shorts and then holding it out to me. “I’m Lennox, Finn’s cousin. Sorry if my hands are sticky.” I shake her hand anyway, my urge to be polite winning out over my concern as to why her hands are sticky. She must sense my hesitance because she elaborates as she holds up the pink box. “I brought you the best cinnamon rolls in Las Vegas as a welcome neighbor gift. But I had to sample one to make sure they were up to their usual par.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “How are they?”
She smiles, her ruby-red lips spreading across her entire face. “So good that you’re down to three.” She holds out the box. “Finn drove out to Scottsdale to see his mom today, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to be a creeper and come introduce myself. He’s been talking about you nonstop.”
I try to contain my smile and fail miserably. Whatever. He’s my friend. I’m allowed to like my friend and enjoy the fact that he’s talking about me.
“All good things, I hope?”
“Phenomenal things,” she says. “I had to come by and make sure you were real.”
I chortle under my breath. Flattery gets you everywhere, Finn. Like right back in front of the closet mirror doing whatever you want to me.
“Do you want to come in? I can make some coffee.” I point to the box in her hand. “You must be a mind reader because I haven’t had lunch yet and those smell divine.”
“I’d love to.”
I step aside, making room for her at the doorway. She gives my shoulder a little squeeze as she passes me and instantaneously, I feel at ease around this stranger. It’s the same way I felt immediately at ease around Finn. Maybe it’s a family trait. They share a certain charisma.
Lennox makes herself right at home in Dex’s house. She’s obviously been here a time or two as well because she knows where the little appetizer plates are in Dex’s massive kitchen. She pulls the dishware from the cabinet and plates two enormous cinnamon rolls that cover the entirety of each six-inch plate. My empty stomach howls with excitement.
After pressing the brew button, I join Lennox at the kitchen breakfast table—the only table I use in this house. Dex’s fancy dining table in his grand dining room is still staged and untouched. I have zero plans of eating at a table that could comfortably seat twelve. The round kitchen table is plenty of space to eat and work at.
“You’re really pretty,” Lennox says.
As a knee-jerk reaction, I look over my shoulder and then flush at my evasiveness. Confidence, Avery. That’s what we’re working on.
“Yes, I’m talking to you,” she adds with a chuckle.
“Sorry,” I say, burying my face in my hands. “I just…I was in a relationship for so long. No one says that to me anymore.”
She purses her lips. “Your boyfriend didn’t tell you you’re pretty?”
Come to think of it… “He always told me it was implied. He wouldn’t be with me if he didn’t think I was beautiful…then again, we’re no longer together, so…” I laugh awkwardly. Good grief. When was the last time I had normal social interactions with other women? Just Palmer. And that’s usually ducking and dodging her snarky commentary on my life.
Lennox pretends to gag. “That’s lazy.”
“You know what?” I say, raising my brows. “It is lazy. How hard is that? It’s barely a sentence. ‘You look pretty.’ Not that hard, right?” Mason should’ve said it more. I deserved more than implied.
“Not that hard at all,” Lennox parrots back. “Do you guys still talk?”
My shoulders tense and I immediately feel my defensiveness rising. “We own a business together. We still have to communicate.”
“That’s cool. In a perfect world, we’re all still amicable with our exes. It makes moving on so much easier. If you guys can own a business together, that’s really mature.” She peers at me, her big brown eyes narrowing just slightly. “Personally, I want to chop off my ex’s balls and feed them to him one by one.” She tugs the neckline of her shirt, exposing a name tattooed underneath her collarbone. “In hindsight, getting his name permanently marked on my body was a bad omen. Jinxed it.”
I cut a generous piece from my cinnamon roll. The side of my fork cuts through the fluffy dessert with ease. Covering my mouth as I chew, I say, “Are you getting it removed? And holy shit this is delicious.”
“Right? And no, no need. My artist has a whole plan to cover it by working it into a new design.” Lennox pats her shoulder. “As soon as I have a little cash, I’m copying Finn’s ship.”
“Oh, yeah…his tattoo is…” The sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. “Pretty cool. Is there a story behind it?”
“Not really. Finn’s always been into ships. Which is funny because he has his pilot license. I always figured he’d want to become a ship captain but—”
“Finn has a pilot license?”
“Just a private pilot certificate,” Lennox says with a shrug. “It’s not like he could apply to fly for Delta or anything. I’m not even sure if it’s still active. He hasn’t flown in years.”
“Wow. I would’ve never guessed. He wanted to be a pilot?”
Lennox twists her lips. “In another life. Has Finn told you about his dad?”
I cut another piece of my cinnamon roll, stalling. Finn mentioned Lennox to me. They are more than cousins. This is his best friend and they work together. I can speak freely, right? “He might’ve tossed around the word womanizer.”
Lennox guffaws. “Finn’s so polite when he likes a girl. What he meant to say is Griffin Harvey Junior is the shit stain of society and an affront to womankind. Sexually active eighteen-year-olds with daddy issues are his favorite type. It’s a miracle he’s only fathered three children. I truly suspect there are more. Dirty fucker apparently doesn’t know what a condom is.”
I blink at her with my jaw dropped. Okay, so she’s candid. Actually, I like it. There are no smoke and mirrors with Lennox. What you see is what you get.
“That must be embarrassing for Finn.”
She nods in agreement. “Finn and his mom are really close. Which makes it hard for him to love his dad.”
I wet my lips, tasting the remnants of the sweet icing on my tongue. “Should we be talking about this? You know…behind Finn’s back?”
She reaches over and pats my hand. “My loyalty is to Finn. I know what I can say and which secrets to keep. My job is to protect him. Speaking of which”—she points to my chest—“what’s your deal?”
“Ah,” I say with a forced laugh. “So these aren’t friendly, neighborly cinnamon rolls after all.”
“Indeed. Baked goods come at a cost.”