What the hell? Was she sunbathing in January? It’s like fifty degrees outside. No, she’s sweaty like she was just working out. Naked? And then it hits me. Oh, fuck. She’s not alone. I glance over my shoulder, waiting for whatever hotshot she’s here with to come strolling in from the bedrooms looking full of himself and satisfied. I hate him. “Oh—Ryan,” she says, her voice cracking with relief. But it quickly turns to anger. “You scared the fucking shit out of me,” she shrieks. “How the hell did you get in here? How do you always get in?” “Through the front door,” I reply, my voice raised to
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