I took a second glance at the mess before deciding I’d need a mop and a bucket to properly deal with the destruction. I pushed back up from my knees and was about to follow Zinn into the kitchen when I heard a soft chuckle behind me. I froze in place.
    In that moment, I knew two things. First, the person behind me was a man. The chuckle was low and soft. Second, the person behind me was a stranger. Any of Cass’s typical friends and associates would be familiar enough with her ditzy niece to ignore loud crashing noises. And they certainly wouldn’t take the time to stand in the hallway chuckling about it.
    I didn’t want to turn around. I wanted to take my soggy self into the kitchen and stay there until Zinn got back out with the drinks and I knew that this stranger with the sort of gravelly chuckle was gone. But I’ve never been one to do what’s smart, and I’ve always been horribly curious.
    I turned slowly, feeling the weight of my sticky, soggy, used-to-be-light-pink sweatpants clinging to my thighs. And there, standing in the hallway with a grin the size of Texas on his handsome face, was Jess Sullivan.
    It was my greatest dream turned nightmare. Handsome man, in my home, straight from the cover of Hunky magazine, laughing at me standing in a puddle of broken glass and—I glanced down—some mystery liquid. Have I mentioned I was wearing sweats?!
    My baby-blue T-shirt didn’t even have the decency to match my pink sweats, and my hair, which badly needed a day at the salon, was pulled up on top of my head like Pebbles from The Flintstones. My shoes squished as I shifted my feet. I couldn’t even bring myself to think about the status of my makeup, or the fact that tweezing hadn’t been a priority since I’d moved in with Aunt Cass the year before. Perhaps the whale-sized blush that crept up my neck and into my face was enough to take the focus off my unibrow. A girl can dream.