Jasper glances at me, and there’s something almost sheepish in his expression. He mouths,Sorry,before turning back to the intercom.
“Look, I know things ended badly, but this isn’t about that. I’ve got someone here who needs to get to her apartment. Can you just buzz us in? Please?”
“So you can, what, come upstairs after and try to sweet-talk me? Fuck you, Jasper. You ghosted me.”
Ouch.
I’m trying very hard not to look like I’m listening to every word of this increasingly awkward conversation, but there’s nowhere else to look. The street is empty. The snow is falling. And I’m standing two feet away from a very large Alpha who apparently has some relationship baggage.
“Sandy,” Jasper states, his voice careful. Patient.
Another pause.
Then a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. But you owe me.”
“Thank you, Sandy.”
“Don’t thank me. Just leave.”
The door buzzes loudly, and Jasper immediately pushes it open, holding it for me with one hand.
“After you,” he says, like the last sixty seconds didn’t just happen.
I grab my suitcase and step inside, into a small entryway with mailboxes on one wall and stairs leading up. It’s warm in here, thank God, and my fingers are starting to thaw.
Jasper follows me in, letting the door close behind us. He reaches for my suitcase. “Here, let me get that.”
“I’ve got it,” I start to say, but he’s already taking it from me.
Our hands brush in the transfer, and that electric spark hits again. Stronger this time.
His eyes flicker to mine, and for just a second, I see something there. Awareness.
Then he’s turning toward the stairs, carrying my suitcase like it weighs nothing.
“Third floor,” he explains over his shoulder. “Watch your step. These stairs are steeper than they look.”
I follow him up, my backpack bouncing against my spine. The stairwell is narrow, painted a soft cream, with nautical prints on the walls. Ships. Lighthouses. Seascapes in muted blues and grays.
“So,” I say, because the silence feels too heavy, “you own a lot of property in town?”
“A few places. This one’s been in my family for a while. My grandfather built it.” He glances back at me, navigating the stairs easily. “Real estate agent handles most of it for me.”
He pulls out a different set of keys and unlocks the door to apartment 3B, pushing it open and reaching inside to flick on the lights.
“Here we go,” he says, stepping back to let me see.
I walk in and immediately fall in love.
The apartment is gorgeous. Not huge, but perfectly laid out. The entryway opens directly into a large open-plan living room and kitchen. The floors are wide-plank wood, honey colored and warm. The kitchen has white cabinets, butcher block counters, and a window over the sink that probably has a view during daylight. The living room boasts a comfy-looking couch, and there’s a fireplace with a mantel decorated with driftwood and sea glass.
“Two bedrooms down that hall,” Jasper says, pointing. “Bathroom’s got both a tub and a shower. There’s a balcony off the living room, and there’s also a communal rooftop space if you want more room. Pool in the courtyard, but it’s closed for winter.”
I walk toward the back, drawn by the promise of a view, and slide open the balcony door just enough to peek out. Even through the mist and falling snow, I spot the harbor. The lights of boats. The dark water beyond.
It’s perfect.
“This is amazing,” I say, turning to find Jasper watching me.
