Ready or Not (The Ready Series Book 4)

“That feeds your wallet, not your soul, Jackson. Figure out the difference.”


As I clicked the lock in place, her parting words swam around in my head, reminding me of a time when I’d sworn to make the world a better place. Through my law degree, I was going to change the world one client at a time.

Unfortunately, single fathers didn’t have time for such lofty dreams.





Liv

I loved Saturdays.

There was nowhere to go and nothing to do. When the weather warmed up like it did during the summer months, there was nothing better than waking up to a window full of sunshine and a day full of opportunity.

Before I’d started my own practice, my life had been less structured. My schedule had been up in the air and never the same. I enjoyed the regular schedule that having my own practice provided. I did, however, miss running errands at eleven thirty on a Tuesday morning when no one else was out but tired stay-at-home moms and other random people like me. Now, I instead had to do my shopping late at night, or risk going on the weekends when the lines were out the door, and patience was nearly nonexistent.

But not today.

Today, I had nothing planned but some serious time with my latest paperback and a little sunshine.

After grabbing my purple robe off the back of my door, I loosely wrapped it around my body. I walked downstairs and ran my hand along the polished wooden banister, loving the way the old grain felt against the pads of my fingers.

This part of town was historic, dating back over one hundred years when Confederate soldiers roamed the city. My own home still had the original hardwood flooring and much of the tin ceiling the first owners had put in when it was built. I’d added my own touches here and there, bridging the modern and old together with bright colors and funky artwork, but it still had its old-world charm.

Stepping into the kitchen, I pulled out a tin of one of my favorite blends of loose tea. It was strong and black with a hint of fruit for the morning, and it was the perfect way to wake up. I set it aside and fired up the kettle, and then I pulled out some Greek yogurt and fresh fruit for breakfast.

With my freshly brewed tea and yogurt, I sat down in my favorite spot—a cozy little armchair I’d rescued from a secondhand store—and I grabbed the book I was eager to finish. Snuggling down in the red velour chair, I sighed contentedly.

This was heaven.

I got about five seconds of heaven before it was all jacked up.

Boisterous loud laughter and shouting echoed from outside my window, causing my Zen-like calm to transform instantly into annoyance.

Pushing the curtains back, I found the root of my problem. Several men clothed in ratty jeans and T-shirts that all displayed the same faded logo were moving around with what looked like pitchforks, digging up dirt and mulch.

“My flower beds!” I screamed, suddenly realizing what they were up to.

Leaving my tea and breakfast behind, I marched out my front door, dressed in only a flimsy nightgown and robe, ready to defend the flowers I’d so painstakingly maintained.

Again.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” I shouted, rushing over to stop them.

Four sets of startled eyes settled on mine. No words came as they looked me up and down, obviously trying to figure out why a crazy half-naked lady was standing in front of them.

My hip jutted out, and I folded my arms across my chest in annoyance. Mia would call it my bitch stance.

I looked down, noticing the bags of chemicals and horrific mulch that was dyed an unnatural bright red color.

Horrible.

One of the men, the oldest-looking one, took a step forward, his hands going up, as he tried to explain what they were doing.

I got very little other than they were hired to do a job, but when he pointed to the house behind him, I knew exactly who to blame.

This was Jackson’s doing.

I quickly apologized, smiled, and walked off toward the front door of my new neighbor.

If he was going to interrupt my perfect morning, I would return the favor.

After several loud knocks on his brass knocker, I heard his voice moving closer.

“Hold on a minute!”

He sounded annoyed.

Good. That made two of us.

When the door opened, I was ready for battle. I was not, however, ready for Jackson to be half naked. The speech I’d written, edited, and perfected in my head as I stomped over and waited for him to appear suddenly disappeared from my brain as visions of sculpted abs and perfectly defined pecs danced in my head.

Dressed in a pair of loose-fitted linen pajama bottoms that were low enough to be nearly illegal, I found myself almost leaning forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of what might follow that gorgeous V that disappeared into the waistband of his dark blue pants.

My gaze meandered up his body, and I realized he was returning the favor as his eyes wandered over my thin robe and the abundance of bare skin peeking out.

“Can I help you, Liv?” he asked in a slow Southern drawl that seemed a whole lot sexier with him standing there, shirtless.