All in on You

Chapter Seven

Please don't let Angelo be the one to open the door. Please don't let Angelo be the one to open the door.

I knock on the heavy oak door and wait for what feels like a minute but is probably ten seconds, tops. When the door handle finally turns on the other side I inhale sharply and... it's not Angelo. A weird mixture of relief and disappointment rushes through my limbs. The guy who answered is looking at me expectantly.

"JT?" I try and he nods. I tell him my name.

Despite never seeing a photo before, somehow, I know that this is the homeowner. He's cute, but not my type. He's a total golden boy—you know what I mean—the ones who are perpetually tanned and carefree. He looks like he grew up in Southern California, rather than Southern Ontario.

"Please excuse me for staring. I just didn't realize a Victoria's Secret Angel was coming."

Puh-lease. This guy can't be serious. I'm going to need more credit than that.

"Does that line ever work?"

JT smiles and his eyes crinkle. Okay, fine, it's a nice smile.

"I don't know. I've never felt a need to say it before, until now."

He's a smooth one, I'll give him that. But instead of admitting that he's redeemed himself, I roll my eyes. As much fun as I'm having standing outside in the brisk January air, I'd like to go inside.

And see Angelo, my inner voice—really, my inner bitch—says.

I take a tentative step forward and understanding flashes across JT's face.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, come on in."

As amazing as his place looks from the outside, it's even more stunning inside. The foyer is crisp yet warm, spotless yet inviting.

"What can I get you to drink?"

JT turns around from where he's walking a few paces ahead of me.

"Oh, I'm good for now."

"You sure? We have beer, wine, I can mix you something."

I'm about to deny him for the second time when I hear my name called. I know the voice well enough to know that it's Scar's and yet when I enter the expansive living area filled with people, it's not her face I see first.

It's his.

Sure enough, just like Scar said, Angelo Bradford is here. He's perched on the arm of a couch that looks like it's from Restoration Hardware and not Ikea, and wearing a pullover with a damn teddy bear on the front. He completes the look with black jeans and a backwards cap, and he should look ridiculous but he looks amazing.

"Harlow?"

"Mmmm."

I'm only mildly embarrassed when I meet JT's amused eyes.

"What?"

"I see," he says simply.

"Pardon?"

JT chuckles. Everything about him seems easy, carefree.

"What was the last thing I said to you?"

That's easy.

"You said my name."

"Before that."

Okay, he got me there.

"I don't know," I admit.

"I was telling you to help yourself to whatever you'd like in the kitchen," JT says as he lifts his arm and gestures in the direction that, if I had to guess, would say is the kitchen. "But I see you have your eye on something else out here."