Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I trudge over to Slash’s habitat to get him fed.
“Good morning, buddy,” I murmur softly.
Slash flicks his tongue at me excitedly as I drop a handful of crickets into his terrarium. I stand by and watch as he scurries after his breakfast.
With a yawn, I shuffle to the kitchen and start the coffeemaker. While it brews, I grab my leftover half-eaten burrito from yesterday’s lunch from the fridge and pop it in themicrowave. The smell of beans and cheese fills the air as I pour myself a cup of liquid sanity and take the first blessed sip.
Just as I take a seat at the kitchen island, I hear voices out in the hall. Pausing with the burrito halfway to my mouth, I tilt my head to listen.
“...private entrance...” It takes all of two seconds to recognize Ryder’s voice. “...come and go without having to walk through the shop...”
Shit. Is he showing the Airbnb? I haven’t had a neighbor in months, not since a nice older couple stayed there for two weeks while visiting their grandkids.
Biting into my burrito, I strain to hear more. There are definitely multiple people out there. I can hear at least two other voices, both male, but I can’t quite make out what they’re saying. The voices cut off as the door shuts with a thud.
Great. Just what I need—some random strangers shacking up across the hall. I silently pray to myself they’re not loud. The last thing I need are some frat boys blasting music at all hours of the night. Not that I have any room to talk. I love blasting my music while I paint. Annoyance hits me when I realize that I won’t be able to do that until whoever the fuck it is leaves.
After cleaning up, I jump into the shower, shampooing my hair twice so I can wash out any residual paint spatter from the night before. I have four tattoo appointments spread throughout the day, and I’m eager to get to work.
Twenty minutes later, I’m dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans, tight black tank top, and worn combat boots. Grabbing my tote, I make a mental note to pick up more charcoal pencils after work.
Checking the time on my phone, I realize I need to hustle if I want to make it downstairs before my first appointment arrives. I have my regular client Nate coming in at nine for the final session on his sleeve—an elaborate piece involving a flyingblue phoenix gripping mechanical gears in its claws. After that, I’ve got brunch with the girls, then three more appointments to finish out my day.
“See you later, buddy,” I call to Slash, who’s happily sunning himself under the heat lamp.
Double-checking I have everything I need, I grab my keys off the counter.
My front door gives me trouble sometimes. When the weather gets warm and expands the wood, it tends to stick at the upper part of the frame, so it needs a good yank to get it to open and shut right every now and then.
“Come on, you piece of shit,” I mutter, pulling hard. I’ve been meaning to fix it for months, but between work and painting, I never seem to find the time. Finally, it closes with a satisfying thunk, and I slide my key into the lock.
Just as I turn the key, the door down the hall flies open with enough force to make me jump.
My head spins in surprise before my heart leaps into my throat.
Standing in the doorway of Ryder’s Airbnb—not looking surprised at all, by the way—is the last person I expected to see.
My heart drops to my feet as I stare at Rowan in shock. He looks even better than he did at Sasha’s party. Dark jeans hug his thick, muscular thighs in all the right places, and his tight white T-shirt shows off his muscular arms and chest. His hair is slightly mussed, and the short-cropped beard on his face makes him look rugged and annoyingly sexy.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I blurt, my voice echoing off the walls of the narrow hallway.
Rowan’s eyes widen, and for a split second, I see a flash of something that looks suspiciously like panic before his expression shifts into something more along the lines of cool.
“Hey, Iz.”
“That’s not an answer, Rowan.” The unexpected growl in my tone surprises me. His eyebrows pop up before a slow grin spreads across his sexy fucking face.
Shit. Why does he have to be so effing hot?
“I’m staying here,” he says. “Well, for the next few months anyway.”
“You’vegotto be kidding me.”
His voice glides over my skin, melting into my veins like molten honey. “Didn’t Logan tell you?”
My heart somersaults from my feet back into my chest as my mind races to process this new piece of information.
Of course, my brother is behind this. It has his meddling jerkface and hands all over it.
