Page 5

Congratulations? Is he serious?

I cross my arms. "Just fine. No thanks to you."

"Baylor…" Rooks lowers his voice, looking between us.

"I’m only up here because the music is so loud I could feel it in my molars," I say.

Wolf looks from me to Rooks.

Rooks’ hands shoot up. "I was going to turn it down."

Wolf glances back at me and then at the crowded living room.

I don’t know why I’m still standing here. I got what I came for. The party can keep going at a normal volume while I finish my cupcakes and pretend I never found out whose apartment this is.

"I have to get back to work," I say.

Wolf looks back at me, though I wish he’d just forget I was here altogether. "What kind of work do you do this late at night?" he asks.

His question takes me by surprise. What does he care what I do?

"Cupcakes. I have a cakery food truck. What did you think I was doing dressed like this?"

"You sell cupcakes at one in the morning?" His eyebrows draw together. "Where are you parked this late? Is it even safe for you to be out there?"

Now he’s worried about somebody getting hurt?

"I don’t sell them at one in the morning. I prepare everything for the next day. But now, I’ll be up for another couple of hours to finish everything." I shoot a glare at Rooks. "Thanks for that, by the way."

I turn toward the door. A woman in a bra and underwear hurries out of the bathroom hallway, drenched from head to toe and clutching a pair of jeans against her chest. Another woman follows, also dripping wet, with her shoes in one hand, braless, covering her breasts with her arm.

A real classy party happening in Wolf’s apartment. Should I even be surprised? Wolf has a reputation.

Then three men in wet boxer briefs come out behind them. One nearly slips and grabs the doorframe.

"What happened?" Wolf asks.

"The tub flooded," the first man says. "We moved into the shower and must have forgotten to turn off the faucet."

Wolf stares at him. "You flooded my bathroom?"

"We were just—"

"Why were you in my bathroom to begin with?"

"You didn’t have a hot tub," one of the idiots says.

Someone still in the bathroom calls for towels. Rooks goes to find some, and one of the men tries to push the water back with his foot. He nearly falls over. None of them look sober enough to be useful.

I look down at the floor. Water is spreading toward Wolf's kitchen.

My kitchen is one floor below us.

"Everything I baked is downstairs," I say, mostly to myself.

Wolf turns to me. "What?"

"The water. My apartment's below yours."