I wake to the smell of coffee.

There are twelve ounces of a single-origin blend inside Hunter's fancy hourglass carafe.

It's good.

Sweet.

Caring.

If things were different…

No. They aren't different.

Hunter is my temporary roommate.

We can be friendly, but that's all we can be.

I push thoughts of him aside as I fix my breakfast, get ready, drive to school.

I focus for long enough to ace my test.

But the second I turn the thing in, my head goes back to him.

Those deep blue eyes.

That soft smile.

The hard muscles.

I spend my business class fantasizing about him.

About pressing my lips to his.

Tearing off his jeans.

Wrapping my legs around him.

And him driving into me again and again.

It's a nice day. It always is this early in fall. Big yellow sun. Bright blue sky. Warm breeze.

The streets are buzzing with a mix of tourists and locals. A family gawking at the tall palm trees. Two surfer boys carting their boards home. A couple on beach cruisers laughing as they stop at a red light.

It's picture perfect.

The same as the shop.

Leighton is behind the counter, twirling a lavender strand around her index finger, pretending to work on her laptop as she watches her boyfriend.

And there's Ryan, in his usual all black outfit, working on some guy's backpiece, staring at his girlfriend with gaga eyes.

It's still weird, seeing him happy. He was never a jolly guy, but it wasn't until his ex cheated that he really turned into Mr. I Hate The World. He came in every day like he had forgotten what the sun looked like.

Leighton was always into it. Into him, I guess.

It's hard to blame her. He's super-hot. Tall and lean with lush curly hair and intense blue eyes. Like Hunter's.

Not that I'm thinking about Hunter's eyes.

He's just right there.

In Brendon's usual suite.

Tattooing something onto a pretty brunette's wrist. She looks up at him like he's the only person who can comfort her.

Which is normal.

Women are usually looking for comfort when they get tattoos. Guys are usually trying to act like it doesn't hurt.

I'm used to watching the guys flirt.

It shouldn't bother me.

I shouldn't care that Hunter is flirting back.

"Hey, Em." Leighton's wave is big. Friendly. She moves out from behind the counter to hug me. "I'll get out of your way."

"There's plenty of room." I set my backpack on the counter. Move straight to the shop's Keurig. Fix a cup of medium roast.

Too much coffee is a bad idea. Kaylee is always reminding me, reminding herself really, that excess caffeine leads to anxiety.

But I'm running on four hours of sleep.

I need the energy.

Especially if I want to stay on top of Hunter.

I try to keep my attention on the drip, drip, drip of the coffee machine, but it keeps drifting back to Hunter.

To his sandy brown hair.

His broad shoulders.

His strong back.

He's just so…

His arms look so safe. Do they feel like that too?

What the hell does that feel like?

I don't remember.

It's been too long.

Finally, my coffee finishes. I add a packet of cream. Half a packet of sugar in the raw.

Mmm. It's not as good as the stuff Hunter made this morning, but it's still sweet, creamy, rich caffeine.

I take my seat behind the counter. Make small talk with Leighton as I settle in for the afternoon.

There isn't a ton to do. I keep the shop clean and stocked. I schedule appointments, send reminder emails and phone calls, update the shop's social media.

Ignore the texts from Kaylee.

She's checking in.

She's worried.

It's sweet that she cares, but I can't get into that now.

She doesn't know. But she suspects. And if she asks—

I don't want to lie about this.

I don't want to talk about it, period.

"Done." Hunter sets his tattoo gun down. He looks up at his client like she's the stars in the sky.

She lets out a heavy sigh. Stares back at him like he's everything she wants.

They laugh over some joke as he cleans her up and brings her to the counter.

She shows off her new ink. Carpe Diem surrounded by poppies.

It's nice.

Obvious, but nice.

I force my lips into a smile. "How cool." I'm not jealous of the attention he's giving her.

I'm not.

"I know." Her light eyes go wide as she stares at the ink. She turns back to Hunter with a smile. "Thank you." She throws her arms around him and squeezes tightly. "I'm in love."

My stomach twists.

Which is ridiculous.

Because I'm not remotely jealous.

I print her receipt and set it on the counter. "You're lucky. Hunter does great work."

"Yeah." She turns back to me. Picks up the pen. Writes a fat tip. Sighs. "It's everything I imagined." She looks back to him, her smile ear to ear. "Can you please stay here permanently?"

"I'm working on it."

She fishes something from her pocket. A business card. "Call me if you move somewhere else." Her cheeks flush. "Or… if you just want to call me."

He watches her leave then he turns to the counter. His eyes find mine. They bore into mine.

Demand an explanation for my expression.

I'm frowning.

Not because I'm jealous.

Because…

I…

Uh…

Well, I'm not letting him realize it.

"You should ask her out." I bite my tongue so I won't add if you want to date someone with absolutely no standards. I mean, really carpe diem? Could she be more cliché?

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Really. She's pretty."

"Yeah." His eyes flit to the door for a quick second. Then they're back on me. "You don't fool me."

"Oh?" I force a smile. It's awkward and stilted, but it's there.

"You won't get me out of your hair that easily."

My laugh is impossibly fake.

Hunter stares at me. He sees through me like I'm made of glass. "How late are you here?"

"Until six."

"Me too."

"Great." My head fills with images of the two of us walking home together. Fixing dinner in the kitchen. Sliding our empty plates off the table then climbing on top of it. "You making dinner tonight?"

"You don't want the dinner I make."

"Oh."

"I'll pick something up on my way home from the gym."

"Great."

He heads back to his suite. Devotes all his attention to his sketchbook.

Maybe…

Maybe this will work.

I pull out my cell. Text my brother.

Emma: How's Jersey?

Brendon: Humid. What are you up to?

Emma: I can't ask my brother how he's doing?

Brendon: Question stands.

Emma: How long is Hunter staying at our place?

Brendon: We haven't discussed a timeline.

Emma: Oh.

Brendon: He giving you trouble?

Emma: He's around a lot.

Brendon: Is it really that bad?

Yes.

But then…

It's not too.

He teases me about my music.

Fixes me coffee.

Compliments my cooking.

He even watches movies with me.

It's nice, having someone there.

Having him there.

Emma: Bad is relative.

Brendon: Worse than me?

Emma: I'm just wondering if you meant what you said about me babysitting him.

Brendon: Keep an eye on him, yeah.

Emma: Why?

Brendon: Because he needs it.

Emma: That's not an answer.

Brendon: It's not mine to tell.

Brendon is a freaking safe. He's not going to crack.

There's no sense in pushing it.

Brendon: Are you okay, Em? Kay hasn't been texting.

This is the trouble with your best friend dating your brother.

Even when she has every intention of keeping my secrets, he figures it out.

Kaylee only texts me and my brother.

So if she's with him and not texting, he knows I'm staying quiet.

There's a lot I want to say.

But not yet.

Not until I figure it out.

I'm not admitting I want Hunter around.

I'm not giving him—or my brother—the satisfaction.

Emma: Hmm, what could be bothering me? It's not like my adult brother assigned me a babysitter even though he's sleeping with a woman two months younger than me.

Brendon: If I thought it was that, I wouldn't be concerned.

Emma: Enjoy your vacation.

Brendon: I love you.

Emma: Love you too.

I set my phone face down on the counter. Lose myself in replying to the shop's emails. Try to avoid watching Hunter work.

Fail.

Eventually, I finish work. Switch to studying. Then to watching his final client.

This time, it's a cute guy getting something on his bicep.

They finish.

I flirt through check out.

Hunter stares without comment.

Then he stretches his arms over his head with a sigh. "You heading home?"

"No." All right. This is it. Time to start fighting fire with fire. "We're going to the gym."

"We're going to the gym?"

"Yeah."

He stares back at me what the hell?

"You were right. You're just looking out for me. I shouldn't fight you."

He arches a brow.

"I'm going to do the same. Like Brendon asked." I slide my textbook into my backpack and pull the zipper shut. "You're babysitting me."

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm babysitting you too."