I fold my arms. “Rule one: no flirting.”
He grins. “Define flirting.”
“You know what flirting is.”
He nods, mock-thoughtful. “So like…what we just did? That’s out.”
“You’re a smart one. Yeah. No making out.”
“Got it. What about eye contact?”
“Logan.”
“Okay, okay. No flirting. What else?”
I take a deep breath, trying to get my heart rate back under 300 beats per minute.
“Rule two: no more…physical stuff. Not even accidental.”
He eyes me. “You mean like grabbing my ass?”
“I didn’t—shut up!”
He holds up his hands in surrender, laughing quietly.
“Honestly, you can grab my ass whenever you want. Fair game.”
“Rule three,” I continue, ignoring his snide comment. “You clean up after yourself. I will buy food per the home stay agreement but I’m not your cook or your maid or your therapist. You’re renting a room here, not joining a sorority.”
His face softens just a little. “Did you say ‘therapist’ because you think I need one?”
“No,” I mutter. “Well. Maybe. Depends how long you keep trying to get under my dress.”
“That was more like up your dress, technically.”
“Logan.”
He gives a mock-salute. “Alright. No flirting, no touching, and no inappropriate charm. Noted.”
“And I swear, if you walk around shirtless, I’ll spray you with the garden hose.”
He laughs again. “That’s oddly specific. And kind of a hot idea.”
I throw the dish towel at him.
He catches it one-handed, still smiling.
And the worst part?
Even with every rule I just laid down…I can already feel myself breaking them.
Chapter Nine
LOGAN
I wake up at 6:42 a.m., which is absurd, because I never wake up this early unless I have to. I blame her.
I throw on gym shorts and a T-shirt, drag a hand through my hair, and head downstairs—fully expecting to be alone, maybe scrounge up some oatmeal like a sad monk.
