Then my brain betrays me, quickly sliding from innocent to indecent. Her lips parting when she laughs. The curve of her waist fitting in my hand as I back her against that hallway wall. The sound she’d make if?—
I curse under my breath and set the phone down hard enough to rattle the bottle caps on the table.
Jesus Christ, man. Get a grip. She’s Maddie’s best friend. Practically family. You don’t get to think about her like that.
I lean back in the chair, drag a hand through my hair, stare at the fire until the shapes dance and mingle together. The phone screen lights up with the time—11:04. I should sleep. I should stop thinking.
I’ll check in on her tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow.
CHAPTER 6
Hailey
My brand-new Denver apartment looks like the aftermath of an IKEA tornado.
There’s a half-assembled coffee table bleeding screws onto the floor, a pile of instructions written in what I can only assume is ancient Norse, and one lone Allen wrench sitting on the counter like it’s mocking me.
“Okay,” I mutter to the room, “this cannot be that hard.”
I shove my hair into a messy bun, sit cross-legged in the middle of the chaos, and stare at the drawing that claims Step 3 follows Step 2.Lies. Step 3 requires a second person with octopus arms. That’s the only explanation.
“Maybe being independent and single isn’t for me after all,” I mutter bitterly, only half joking.
If Maddie were here, she’d already be holding one leg while singing Mariah Carey off-key and reminding me that she told me buy power tools but I insisted I would later. Instead, she’s back in Chicago, texting me pictures of bagels and her cat.
“Miss you too,” I grumble, tightening the wrong screw and immediately stripping it. “Awesome. Love that for me.” I drop the wrench and let out a long breath before I freak out and throw this thing out the window.
The knock on my door isn’t actually a knock, it’s more of athunk. Then another. I freeze, heart tripping.Oh God. Please don’t let it be the office manager.I’m still traumatized from yesterday when she yelled at me for recycling wrong.
But then the noise stops before turning into one more, very loudcrashthis time. Turns out it’s my bookshelf slowly tipping like a drunk elf, crashing into the wall.
“What the hell?” I yelp, grabbing it by the edge and somehow saving it from flattening me by pure adrenaline. I steady it, stepping back very slowly, too afraid to even breathe. The bookshelf wobbles again.
“Shit!” I grab a stack of cookbooks from the shelf and shove it under one side to brace it. I step back again and this time it stays steady.
“Perfect. Totally safe. Absolutely not OSHA-approved.”
My phone buzzes across the counter and I step away from the shelf, deciding that it’s good enough for now. I have neither the patience nor the understanding to figure out what I possibly did wrong when assembling it.
Maddie:Made it to the office. Already sick of people. You good?
I snap a picture of the disaster and send it back.
Me:Define good.
She responds immediately and I already know what she’s going to say.
Maddie:Call Cole if you need help. He offered, remember?
I stare at the message, thumb hovering over the keyboard. My chest tightens because yes, I remember. The business card with his cell is sitting right there on the counter next to my coffee mug.
But my dumb brain keeps thinking of him in all of these sexy scenarios that have me too embarrassed to reach out, as if hesomehow knows. I roll my eyes at how ridiculous I’m being and send a message back to Maddie.
Me:You’re right, thanks for the reminder.
I open a text thread with Cole and start typing:Hey, funny story…Then delete it.
“Nope. I am an independent woman with a master’s degree and a screwdriver. I’m a software engineer. I can handle this.”
