Emily was strange for the rest of the workday. She wouldn’t tell me what she and Aria talked about either, which I found very odd. All she said was she couldn’t leave early. I didn’t press, not wanting to make things any more awkward between us.

I pull into my parking spot in the garage below my apartment complex, and Emily’s Altima takes the spot next to me. Each resident gets one parking spot per bedroom in the apartment, though we don’t have assigned spaces. I cut the engine and get out of my Impala. Emily’s car is filled with boxes, so I open the rear passenger door and start hauling out a few.

“You don’t have to do that,” Emily says, stepping out of the car.

“What, you think I’m going to stand back and watch you carry all this upstairs by yourself? That’s crazy.” And not at all how I was raised. My parents made sure I always offered a hand at home.

“Well, don’t go nuts. We’re going to have to make multiple trips.”

I look at the number of boxes. “I think you’re right. Do you know three of these are labeled ‘shoes’? That can’t possibly be right.”

“It’s not. There’s another in the trunk.” She laughs, and for the first time since Monday, she seems like herself. Maybe seeing that my apartment complex is in a good part of town and close to work brightened her spirits.

I balance two large boxes in my arms and use my hip to shut the car door. “Ready?” I ask.

Emily eyes me over the two boxes she has in her arms. “Lead the way.”

I bring her to the elevator at the end of the row we’re parked in and use the corner of the bottom box to press the button.

“Nice move,” she says.

“Tricks of the trade.” I have no idea why that comes out of my mouth. I’ve never worked as a professional mover before. Luckily, Emily doesn’t question it. When the elevator arrives, we step inside and I press the button for the fourth floor.

“Is it always this quiet?” Emily asks.

“At this time of day, it’s not bad. When six o’clock rolls around, it’s a different story.” Most people in the building seem to be on the same schedule. Luckily, it’s not my schedule, so I usually don’t have to deal with long waits for the elevator.

“Good to know. How long have you been in this building?”

“About four years now. My sister and I moved in together straight out of college. And before you ask, we’re twins and we actually get along really well. I was kind of sad when she moved out to pursue a new job opportunity in California.”

“California?” She shifts the boxes in her arms, making me wonder if taking two boxes was one too many. It’s possible she was trying to match what I was doing.

“You okay with those?”

“Yeah. So, your sister—what is she doing out in California?” Her voice is strained, but I can tell she doesn’t want help.

“Acting. She got in with this director and was commuting to New York for a while. Then he moved out to California, and he asked her to go with him.”

“Oh. Were they romantically involved, or was it strictly professional?”

That’s what I want to know. “Monica never confirmed or denied either way, so your guess is as good as mine.”

The elevator opens, and I step off first since Emily doesn’t know where she’s going yet. I lead us down the hall to the right. I always found it odd that we never came back to my place when we were dating, but I guess that was part of her keeping things on her terms. “We’re 405.” I stop walking a few feet from the door when I realize my key is in my pocket.

“What’s wrong?” Emily asks. “Did you forget your key?”

“Sort of. It’s in my pocket. Rookie mistake.” I should have taken it out before I loaded myself up with boxes. “I’ll just put these down and open the door.”

Emily puts her boxes down instead. “My arms need a break. Which pocket?” she asks.

She wants to fish the key out of my pocket for me?

“Do you have something in your pocket you don’t want me to find, or are you being shy?” she teases.

She has to pick this moment to flirt with me again? The last thing I need is to get an erection when her hand is in my pocket.

“I’m going to need an answer in the next three seconds or I’ll just dive into both at the same time.” She mimes plunging her hands into my pockets.

“My right. Your left.”

“Front or back?” she asks.

“Front,” I say, trying to picture my grandmother in her bathing suit—anything to keep from concentrating on Emily’s hand in my pants.

She steps around the boxes to my right side and slides her hand inside my pocket. I keep my body as stiff as possible, not wanting to move and make her hand graze anything it shouldn’t. Even if I’d like it to. She grabs my keys and pulls them out.

“Got it.” She holds them up. “Now, which one is it?”

“The silver one next to my car key.”

“What are all the others for?” she asks, getting the apartment key and inserting it in the lock.

“My parents’ house. Their front door and side door. When they go away, I check on the house for them.”

“That’s sweet,” she says, pushing the door open and stepping aside to let me go in first.

I walk into the apartment and place the boxes on the kitchen table to the left. Then I grab one of the boxes she left in the hallway while she grabs the other. After we put them down, I ask, “Do you want a tour first, or should we go get the rest of your things?”

“Tour, please.” She loops her arm through mine and smiles. Now this is the Emily I’m used to. The one who doesn’t think twice about touching me. I’m much more at ease with her when she’s like this.

“Okay, so this is the kitchen table, even though it’s not technically in the kitchen. That’s over here to your right.” I bring her into the small kitchen that has a countertop for eating, a stove, a refrigerator, a microwave, and several cabinets.

“I don’t cook much. Eggs, sandwiches, and occasionally pasta.” She looks embarrassed by this, and I’m not sure why.

“Well, I love to cook, so if you buy the food, I’ll cook whatever you’d like.”

“A man who cooks, I like that,” she says, giving my arm a squeeze.

I move on to the living room before I can read too much into her comment. “This is the living room. Monica picked out the furniture. She was big into leather at the time. It gets hot if you leave the curtains open though, so be forewarned.”

“Nice coffee table. My old apartment had a glass one. It was a bitch to keep clean.” She runs her free hand over the cherry wood.

“If you’re willing to clean, we are going to get along just fine.”

“You cook, and I’ll clean. I can deal with that.” She nods as I bring her over to the TV, which is in the corner on a small stand.

“I have the sports package and all the premium channels.”

“Nice.”

“You watch sports?” I ask.

“Basketball, tennis, and football,” she says. “I can’t stand to watch golf and baseball, though. Way too boring.”

I laugh because I watch both. “And over here are the bedrooms. This one in the corner is mine. I hope you don’t mind. It’s the bigger of the two.” I bring her inside my room, which, admittedly, is messy. My bed is unmade, my closet door is open with shoes spilling out of it, and the chair in the corner has the shirt and boxers I slept in last night draped over the arm.

“I see why you bargained for me to clean.”

“I didn’t mean my room,” I say, grabbing the clothes from last night and stuffing them into the hamper by the door.

“I was teasing. Relax.” She tugs me out of the room. “Show me my room.”

I motion toward the next door. “That’s the bathroom between the two bedrooms. There’s a bathtub, a single sink with a vanity, and obviously, the toilet.” I let her look inside on her own while I wait in the living room.

“I can work with that.” She points to the next bedroom door, which is only slightly ajar. “Mine?”

I nod and motion for her to go inside.

She pushes the door open and smiles. “I don’t know your sister, but tell her I love her.”

The room is still fully furnished. Monica didn’t take much with her to California because she didn’t want to pay to have it all moved out there. It was cheaper to buy all new things. The bed is a king with huge plush pillows. There’s a nightstand on either side of the bed. The closet is narrow but runs the full length of one wall. The dresser in the corner by the window has a large screen television perched on top.

“I’m sure everything is dusty from sitting unused,” I say.

“It’s perfect. My last bedroom was about half this size.” She whirls around and hugs me. “Thank you, David. You really are my hero for bailing me out like this.” She pulls back and looks me in the eyes.

My body responds to her closeness, and I take a step back and run a hand through my hair. “Well, we should go get the rest of your things and head out to Last Call before everyone wonders where we are.” I start for the door, wondering how on earth I’m going to get through this when I’m already dying to start things up with her again.

* * *

A half hour later, Emily’s boxes are in her room and I change into jeans and a dark blue polo shirt. She’s in the bathroom getting ready to go. I almost feel like I’m on a date, waiting for her to get ready so we can go out for the evening. It’s silly to take two cars, so we’ll probably drive together, too. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? These are things I didn’t consider before I offered to be her roommate.

The bathroom door opens, and I get up from my place on the couch, switching the TV off and laying the remote on the coffee table. I grab my wallet and stuff it into my back pocket.

“Do you want me to—?” I raise my head and catch a glimpse of her for the first time. She’s wearing tiny khaki shorts and a low-cut black satin top. Her long, dark hair falls straight down her back.

“Want you to what?” she asks, grabbing her purse from her bedroom doorknob.

“Um, drive. Do you want me to drive? Or do you want to take separate cars?” She might meet someone at the bar and go home with him. Or bring him back here. God, I didn’t think about that either.

“If you don’t mind driving, that would be great. I can only have one drink if I have to drive myself home. I’m sort of a lightweight. Not that I have to tell you.”

No, she doesn’t have to tell me. I’ve been out with her numerous times.

She starts for the door, and I peek at her ass.

Dom was right. Living with Emily might be the thing that kills me.