Haley drove around the block a second time, her eyes searching left and right for an open space. Any open space would do, she wasn't picky.

And she was out of luck. Nothing had opened since the last time she drove around, which meant she'd end up parking a couple blocks away. Again.

It was a Friday night, for crying out loud. Why were there so many cars? Didn't these people have a life?

No, they didn't. And she wasn't much better.

She pushed the depressing thought away and drove two blocks down and made a right, widening her search. Something had to be open. Somewhere.

A yawn broke free, loud and long, big enough that she actually felt her jaw pop. She shouldn't be this tired. Yes, it had been a long, busy day. Yes, her feet were tired and her back hurt. But the wad of tips in her back pocket more than made up for it.

That, and the excitement of seeing Zach in a little bit.

And God, she needed to stop already. So Zach was coming over. Big deal. She needed to get a grip and stop overreacting.

Sex, Haley. It's just sex.

Yet no matter how many times she told herself that, she couldn't stop the tiny glimmer of—hope? Excitement? Anticipation? She didn't know what it was, only knew that she had to tamp it down. That she couldn't let it go to her head. There was nothing going on between her and Zach. Nothing except sex, that was. They weren't compatible. They were both stubborn. Straightforward. Hard-headed. Obstinate. Blunt.

So okay, maybe they did have some things in common. And okay, yeah—Zach happened to be super sexy. Playful. Considerate. Hard on the outside and mushy on the inside, like a roasted marshmallow.

Haley choked on her bark of laughter. A marshmallow? Zach? He'd have a shit fit if she ever said that out loud. No way would she even think about telling him that.

She eased her car into a narrow spot, having to do a gazillion-point-turn to finally wedge it in and even then, she damn near popped the curb. Christ, she hated parallel parking.

She threw the car into Park, cut the engine, then shoved her shoulder against the door. It opened with a creak and she pushed one more time, clearing enough space to squeeze through. She leaned across the cracked console and grabbed the bag from the passenger side floor, then turned and twisted and finally climbed out. She kicked the door closed, gave the car one last scowl, then moved to the sidewalk. Sure enough, the rear passenger tire was kind of propped against the curb, not quite on it, but not exactly off it, either.

Screw it. It was only going to be like that until she left for work tomorrow. One night sure as hell wasn't going to hurt the hunk of junk.

She shifted the bag to her left arm and held her keys in her right hand then started walking. Glass clinked against glass with each step, making her question the impulse to stop at the liquor store on the way home. She had beer in her refrigerator, she didn't need more.

Except Zach drank a different brand than the cheap domestic crap she usually bought. It was some fancy import from Germany with a long name she couldn't pronounce, even if she did know it was a wheat beer.

And about three times as much as what she usually paid.

That more than anything told her she was in danger of getting in over her head. Whatever. It was one six-pack, not a freaking commitment.

She finally reached her building and pushed through the heavy metal door. Surprise, surprise. The upstairs light was out. Again.

Haley muttered under her breath, dropping a few of her more colorful vocabulary words, then fumbled for the small flashlight on her keyring. A beam of light pierced the darkness as she climbed the stairs, her steps drowned out from the music blaring from one of the downstairs apartments. The heavy bass echoed around her, bounced inside her skull and scraped the base of her neck.

She thought about going back down and knocking on their door, asking them to turn the music down. No sooner had the thought come into her mind that she pushed it away, immediately dismissing it. She had no idea who the new tenants were, had never even seen them. Getting into a confrontation was the last thing she wanted—or needed—right now.

Haley reached the landing, shone her light around to make sure there were no disgusting prizes waiting for her, then unlocked her apartment and kicked the door closed behind her.

How much longer before Zach got here? She wasn't sure, hadn't paid attention to the time when he'd sent her the texts. She shoved the last bottle into the refrigerator then pulled her phone and the wad of cash from her back pocket. She lifted the lid of the cookie jar, tossed the cash inside, then replaced the lid and gave it a quick pat.

"Keep it safe, Kermy."

The green frog face stared back at her, its mouth spread in a silly smile. Not exactly the smartest place to keep her tip money but it kept her from spending it all at once. She didn't bother with a bank, not for her nightly tips. It was easier and more convenient to make a deposit run once a month if she needed to. That way, she had cash on hand if she needed it. A little mad money.

Yeah. Mad because there never seemed to be enough.

Haley headed back to the bedroom, her gaze sweeping the small room to make sure it looked halfway decent. The bed was made and the floor was absent of any clothes. Good enough.

She kicked off her boots, tossed them into the small closet, then sat on the edge of the bed and scrolled through the text conversation she'd had with Zach.

You staying at Mystic's?

Maybe, not sure.

Might be late. Big fight. Coach pissed.

Those had been earlier, before the game had even ended. She had no idea what fight Zach had been talking about, wasn't sure if that was good or bad. Well, probably bad if his coach was upset.

Haley slid her thumb across the screen, reading the other messages that had come just before she got off work.

Definitely going to be late. Coach is keeping us.

Sorry.

No biggie. We won.

Cool.

You hanging out?

No, going to head home.

Still on for later?

If you want.

Duh. Of course.

Haley smiled when she read it. Duh? That didn't even sound like Zach—except it kind of did.

She looked at his last message, her smile growing a little wider when she read it.

See you in a little bit, sweetheart. He'd even ended it with a smiley kiss.

Okay, yeah, it was official. She was probably maybe just a teensy bit in over her head. So what? She could deal. She had to. As long as she kept telling herself they were only having fun, she could deal.

She tossed the phone on the bed then moved to the dresser, opening and closing drawers as she figured out what to wear. She needed to take a shower, wash the bar funk off her so she didn't smell like beer and sweat. And shave, she needed to shave, too, because nobody liked stubble. Did she have time? It didn't matter if she did or not, showering and shaving wasn't optional.

But what the hell should she put on when she got out of the shower?

She dug through her underwear drawer, already knowing the search was hopeless. She didn't own sexy lingerie. She didn't own sexy anything. Not only was it not her, it wasn't in her budget.

Okay, so sexy lingerie was out of the question. Zach didn't seem to mind anyway, hadn't paid much attention to her underwear—except that first time when she hadn't been wearing any.

What was that saying? Less is more? Okay, she'd go for less. It was easier that way.

She yanked a white tank top from the middle drawer, then grabbed a pair of cut-off sweat shorts from the bottom one. The tank shirt was thin and light, practically see-through. Maybe, if she timed it right, she'd still be damp from the shower and the shirt would be a little wet and—

Yeah, she had it bad. Plotting to wear a wet white shirt in the hopes of exciting Zach? That was a new one, even for her.

Didn't mean she wasn't going to do it.

She peeled off her jeans and sweater and socks and tossed them into the laundry basket then headed to the bathroom. Shampoo, soap, wash, shave. Impulse struck her at the last minute. She grabbed the bottle of smelly shower gel Megan had given her for Christmas and squirted some into her hands. The faint scent of cinnamon, light and subtle, filled the steamy shower. Haley hesitated. Should she use it or not? What the hell. Zach had called her hot. Maybe he'd appreciate her smelling like a fireball.

She lathered the gel and spread it over her skin then stepped back and rinsed off just as the water turned cooler. Crap. She'd been in the shower longer than she realized. Was Zach on his way over? Her phone was still in the bedroom so she had no way of knowing if he'd called or sent a text.

She grabbed a towel and dried off, then bent over and wrapped it turban-style around her hair. No way did she have time to dry it now, it was too thick and wavy. So what? She'd throw a little styling product in it and hope for the best. It wasn't like she really did anything to her hair anyway, not when it had a mind of its own.

She heard the knock on the door just as she finished rinsing the toothpaste from her mouth. Crap. She really had been in the shower longer than she thought.

She pulled the towel off her head, pumped some oil into her palms, then bent over at the waist and ran her hands through her hair. One last look in the mirror was all she had time for because the knock sounded again.

Haley took a deep breath and pressed her hand against her stomach, trying to calm the sudden butterflies flying around. It was just Zach. Nothing to get all worked up about.

She headed toward the door, took another deep breath, and fixed what she hoped was a sexy smile on her face.

The smile died as soon as she opened the door. A blast of arctic air ripped through her, freezing her from the inside out.

"Jimmy."