Alexa meets me and my buddy Antonio at the venue sharply at eight. She hands over the signed contract and goes over the rules Antonio set one more time: the charge for damage to the building, the access the kitchen staff will have to the place in the time leading up to the party, that she’s allowed to decorate with non-permanent fixtures only, and they can’t damage any of the surfaces.

It doesn’t take long for them to work things out, and Antonio leaves with a smile and a handshake. When it’s just the two of us, Alexa stands in the middle of the place, looking around, figuring out what item on her massive to-do list she should tackle first.

She has her hair up in a messy ponytail, and she’s practically drowning in an oversized sweatshirt. The collar is so stretched that it hangs off her shoulder. It’s tattered and worn, like it used to belong to a boyfriend and she kept it in the breakup.

I want to rip it off, want to run my hands along the curves her tight running pants are showing me every inch of. A few loose strands have fallen out of her ponytail and lay gently across the slope of her neck. I want to put my mouth on that spot.

“Do you think you could—”

She turns and catches me staring. Last year, I let her go because I wanted to avoid getting wrapped up in this, but now? I’m getting wrapped up, and I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know if I want to stop it.

“What’s that look for?” she asks.

“What look?” I say, scrunching my brows together, trying to play it off.

“Having regrets?”

About not taking my chance with her a year ago? Yes. Absolutely. Every day since. But that can’t possibly be what she’s asking me.

“Wish you hadn’t put your name on the line with a friend for me?”

What? “No,” I reply quickly. “Not at all. Why?”

She gives me a long look, then shakes her head as she looks down at the ground. “You were just looking at me like…never mind.” She pulls a set of keys out of her sweatshirt pocket and dangles them in front of her. “I’ve got some stuff that I should bring in before my car gets towed.”

“Let me help you,” I say, wiping my hands on my jeans. She looks surprised that I offered, and I’m only just beginning to realize how much damage my behavior the other day must have done with her.

I take the bigger, heavier stuff, and we get her car unloaded in only a couple trips. I let her walk in front of me, mostly to be a gentleman, but also so I can enjoy the view.

“What’s in here?” I ask as she sits crosslegged on the floor.

“A few light samples I wanted to try, some tablecloths and stuff like that. I wanted to get a feel for what they’d look like in the place.”

She flips open one of the boxes and pulls out a long string of lights. “Are you going to do that tonight?”

“I’m just going to organize this stuff a little, I’m not planning on staying too long. I don’t want to have to get my car out of impound,” she replies with a smile.

“You don’t pay someone to do all of this for you?”

“No,” she says with a bitter laugh. “In an ideal world, yes, and maybe I’ll get there someday. But for now, with this budget? I’m going to be doing a lot of this myself. Hopefully with Marin’s help, and…maybe someone who isn’t terrified of ladders could pitch in.”

“I’m not terrified of ladders.”

Alexa pauses unwinding the lights for just a sec; if I wasn’t so observant, I would’ve missed it. She smiles up at me. Christ, she’s gorgeous. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Can I help you with that?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I think maybe it’s time to head out for the night anyway.”

I think that’s a good idea. I want her badly, and it’s difficult to remember all the reasons why I thought that I shouldn’t. Maybe they don’t matter as much as I thought they did.

Still, I don’t want to do something either one of us will regret later.

“C’mon,” I say, reaching for her hand to help her up. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

Over the next few nights, Alexa and I meet at the restaurant. I tell myself it’s to appease Hunter and be a little more social, that it’s better than sitting at home doing whatever in the hell it is I normally do night after night. Antonio’s place is in a great area, but my bodyguard instincts are always on, and I just can’t let her spend so much time there alone after her business partner has to leave for the evening.

There’s also a fact that’s becoming more and more difficult to deny: I’m drawn to Alexa; I feel lighter around her than I have in a long time. Happy, almost.

At first, she seems surprised that I’m there, and that I keep showing up. Eventually she puts me to work.

I hang string lights and move tables into one position and then another, back and forth so many times I can’t remember how they were originally set up. I haul different chair samples to and from her car. Whatever she needs me to do, I do it.

At first we make small talk, just sharing random details about our days. That gradually moves into more personal territory, like stories about her business partner, or how stressed she is now that Hayley’s wedding is only a week away. She tells me that she’s learning to cook and sometimes brings me leftovers.

As our nights draw to a close, I find myself wanting to be with her longer. When I walk her to her car, I linger.

I’m playing a dangerous game, and I don’t want to stop.

“I need you to get back up on that death trap,” Alexa says, nodding toward the ladder.

“What for?”

“Are you here to help, or are you here to ask questions?” There’s a shit ton of lights strung across the ceiling at this point, creating a soft glow in the room that makes Alexa’s eyes sparkle. She’s so gorgeous, it’s taking everything I have in me to not press her up against the wall and lick every inch of her body.

“If you want me to get on that death trap, I think I’m entitled to know why,” I tease.

“More lights,” she replies, pulling another strand out from behind her back and doing this little dance that makes her hips swivel. She gives me a flirty smile, running her tongue along her front teeth.

“Fine.” I reach over to grab the lights, but Alexa puts them behind her back again.

I’m all for any game that lets me get closer to her, so I step in, bending down to grab the cord, crowding so close to her that I can feel her breath against my neck. Her hair smells like honey, and I pause—just a second—before I pull back.

“Got it,” I say, nearly brushing my lips long the shell of her ear. I don’t even touch her, but I feel the shift in the air when she shivers.

She playfully swats at me just as I move out of her range. “Just put the damn lights up, show-off.”

I climb to the top of the ladder and ask, “Where do you want them?”

Alexa doesn’t answer.

I turn and see she’s staring right at my ass. I hook part of the cord under my belt buckle. “Should I put them here?”

That startles a laugh out of her, and she closes her eyes, smiling. All I can think about is making her laugh again.

“Hang them right next to the other ones so they connect the two remaining strings. And don’t act all cocky now that you caught me noticing you have a nice ass.”

“You hadn’t noticed that before?”

I’m kind of an oblivious idiot sometimes, so it takes me a few seconds to realize the energy in the room has changed.

“Jesse,” she says. It’s barely more than a whisper, and I know the second I hear my name that I’ve gone too far.

I’m sure I’m confusing her. I turned her down last year, and now I’m practically jumping her bones when she hands me a string of goddamn lights. I’ve got to stop this or make a move.

All the reasons I had for turning her down last year seem so unimportant when I’m with her. Maybe…ah, hell. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.

“Here?” I ask, trying to shift our conversation back to the decorating for the time being.

Alexa seems grateful for it, if her smile is any indication. “Perfect.”

I connect the lights, and once they’re lit, I climb down the ladder.

Alexa is packing up, getting ready to leave for the night. She only has one box, and she could probably get it herself.

“Here,” I say, reaching for it before she can. “Let me.”

She gives me a shy smile, then tucks her hair behind her ear. “Okay.”

We walk out, and when her car is loaded, I’m not ready to say goodbye. I decide I’m going to do something about that.

“It’s still early,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets like some kind of nervous kid. “Feel like going for a drink?”

Alexa bites her lip, and I spend the interminable seconds that pass staring at it, wondering what she tastes like.

“Yeah,” she answers. “I’d like that.”