CHAPTER ONE

BEAST AT MY BACK

GUS

THIS IS GOOD.

This is the right choice.

I’m totally not making the world’s most epic mistake.

Rolling my eyes, I juggled the box I held as I used my hip to close my car door.

Nerves were to be expected, given I was moving into a new place. That alone would be stressful enough, so it made sense I was extra freaked since I’d be sharing said new place with a man.

A freakin’ man—and my boyfriend-ish one to boot.

Blake Hunt and I had been seeing each other for two months. Boston born and bred, he was all about the fast lane. My southern speed, however, was far slower. So, while I hadn’t disagreed when he’d begun referring to me as his girlfriend, I also hadn’t been on the same level yet.

Of course, since I was about to move in with him—albeit temporarily—I guessed it was time for me to start using labels.

My stomach knotted as I moved the box to my hip and punched in the passcode for the main entrance. After getting the flashing red light twice, I tried to remember where I’d put the paper he’d written the code on. I had the perfect visual of me cockily crumbling it and tossing it in my garbage, sure I had it memorized. Even with the red error light taunting me, my ego and I were surprised I was wrong. Numbers were my thing.

Before I could press his doorbell, another resident opened the door, his fluffy dog bouncing around his feet. “7A?”

I leaned down to tentatively pet his pup. “Yup.”

“The system has been acting up.” He held the door for me, his expression a forced stern. “Don’t tell anyone I’m such a rule breaker.”

I returned his somber tone. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Drumming on the side of the box, I headed for the elevator, taking it to the seventh floor.

This’ll work out. It’s the only practical thing to do.

I snorted at the thought. Practicality had no place in relationships, and even my analytical mind couldn’t change that.

Besides, it was time I started being a little wilder. I needed to stop living as though I were still in Tennessee, trying my hardest to not bring shame to my poor meema.

Boston was a big city, and no one cared whether I skipped church, stayed out all night, or moved in with a boy before we were married.

No one was watching what I did.

It was liberating, so I couldn’t understand why I was so freaked about living in a posh apartment with a hotshot—and simply hot—lawyer. I should’ve been celebrating. There was a slip of barely-there fabric in one of my bags to wear when we did just that.

When the elevator doors slid open, I had the craziest urge to ride back down to the lobby.

And what? Live in your car?

Remembering the alternative, I walked to his apartment.

Our apartment, at least for a while.

I wedged the box between the door jamb and my hip as I dug into my pocket for the key he’d given me. Coming up empty, I dropped my head back and tried not to channel Meema, who’d take each coincidence as a sign.

With a sigh, I knocked on the door, hoping Blake was awake.

The door opened mere seconds later.

Only it wasn’t Blake on the other side. Not unless he’d grown some nice boobs since I’d last seen him.

Leaning to the side, I looked around the woman to peer in. Each floor only had two apartments, and I was standing in front of A, but I still held out hope that I’d gotten off on the wrong level and knocked on some glamorous stranger’s door.

I hadn’t.

From my vantage point, I could see the short hallway that opened into Blake’s giant living room. His massive TV hung on the wall between floor to ceiling windows, his L-shaped couch positioned in front of it.

“May I help you?” the knockout asked when my staring and silence had long since stretched into creepy territory.

“May you help me?” I repeated back, her flinch informing me I was much louder than I’d intended. I couldn’t seem to force my voice any quieter as I continued. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

There was a thump, followed by another louder one, and then a door slamming. Blake hurried into view, nearly knocking over a lamp. “I can explain.”

Quirking a brow, I scanned the model-esque beauty who was wearing one of Blake’s dress shirts. Switching my gaze to him, I saw he’d pulled on slacks, but the button was undone, and he wasn’t wearing underwear. His hair was mussed, and there was hooker-red lipstick smudged on his face and chest.

My lip curled in disgust. “You’re such a cliché. I mean, this is bad enough, but did you have to be so hackneyed about it?”

The woman backed away, scurrying to the bedroom.

Blake didn’t even glance at her as she passed. “Look, I fucked up.”

My laugh was bitter. “Ya think?”

“I’m not going to try to deny it, but—”

“Well, I appreciate the fact you know I’m not stupid enough to believe a lie when the truth is literally thrown in my face.”

“Come in, and I’ll explain.”

Shaking my head, I wondered if he thought I was that pliable. “Not happening.”

He ran his palm down his face. His voice was soft as he pleaded, “Hear me out.”

My jaw clenched so hard, I worried my teeth would shatter. “There’s literally not a single thing you could say to make this better.”

The woman came back into the room dressed in her own clothes. Since that meant seductive heels, a little black dress, and a face that looked fresh and not like a wet racoon, I almost preferred the other outfit. Oversized shirts on women were inherently sexy, so I could’ve pretended her appeal was from that. In her real outfit, and the way she strutted easily in her heels—no knobby-kneed-newborn-doe walk for her—I had to face the fact she really was as flawless as she’d first appeared.

Bless her heart.

My self-esteem was not low. I didn’t quiver before the wondrous and handsome lawyer, wondering why he’d chosen little ol’ me.

Yet, in the face of her statuesque beauty—her tall and lithe form sensuous even as she hurried toward the exit—I suddenly found myself feeling as though I were lacking. Like I was still a backwoods girl in a metropolitan world.

And that hurt.

Which, in turn, made me extra pissed.

“You’re such a dick,” I hissed. “A cliché and boring dick.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed at my insult. Not the dick part—I knew he wore that personality trait like a badge of honor. As a lawyer, being a dick got him ahead. It was the boring part that ticked him off.

The woman grabbed her coat and was rushing around, looking for something else. She muttered to herself, growing more frazzled before apparently spotting what she was searching for. Bending, she picked up her purse and looked toward the door. Her eyes went past me and widened before she dropped the bag, its contents spilling out.

“For fuck’s sake,” Blake growled.

I glanced over my shoulder to see what’d startled the woman before doing a double take.

Leaning in the doorway of the opposite apartment, a man—no, a beast—was watching the show. His arms were folded over his wide chest, his legs crossed at the ankle. He was, by far, the largest man I’d ever seen in my life. A mess of thick, dark auburn hair covered his head, the strands reaching the collar of his tee. His beard, a lighter auburn, was also overgrown. It wasn’t a ‘pube beard’, all stringy and sparse. Thick and full, it was well-maintained.

It also semi-hid his lips, which I belatedly noticed had formed into a small smirk at my in-depth inspection.

My eyes widened, and I whipped back around. I was pretty sure I heard a quiet chuckle from the peanut gallery behind me, but I ignored it. It was embarrassing enough having an audience witness my soap opera style disaster, knowing he was laughing at me was something I couldn’t deal with at that point.

“Do you mind?” Blake asked, speaking to the beast.

“Nah,” the man said, though he didn’t move from his spot.

Blake waited a long moment before giving up and focusing on me. “Last night was a mistake. I get that.”

The woman, who’d shoved her belongings back into her purse, stood and headed toward me. “I’m sorry,” she muttered with her head down.

“Wait.” I blocked the doorway as best as my small frame could. “Was he drunk?”

She shook her head and turned to glare at him. “We had a drink together, but he didn’t finish before we came back here and…” Her words trailed off, not needing to spell it out.

“Right. No hit to the head?”

“Not that I saw.”

“So, short of him claiming that he slipped and fell into your vagina, then was so scared by it, he started shaking around, there’s really no excuse he’ll be able to provide?”

Her head jerked back at my words, her brows lowering even as her lips quirked up. “No.”

“Right. Okay.” I stepped aside so she could go, fighting the urge to follow along with her.

That would’ve been letting Blake off the hook too easily.

He ran his palm down his face again, an obvious tell he had when he knew he was wrong.

I should email that fact to the other attorneys in the state of Massachusetts.

“Come in and we’ll talk this out.” Turning on the charm, with a healthy bit of smug, Blake tilted his head. “We’ll unpack your car, order in breakfast, and get this figured out since you have nowhere else to go.”

My stomach sank at his words because they were true. I’d milked my time in my old apartment for as long as I could, but I hadn’t been able to get another extension.

As of that morning, I was officially homeless.

But even that didn’t make me stupid.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m still going to stay with you.” I jerked my thumb behind me toward the beast. “I’d rather move in with him.”

“Aye,” the deep voice rumbled behind me. “You should, lass.”

Glancing over, I got momentarily lost in the thick accent that laced his words. When what he’d said sank in, I offered him a small smile for backing me up before shifting to scowl at Blake. “See? I’ve got options, and you won’t have to lie to anyone about where you’re going.”

“I did go out last night with the guys,” Blake asserted, “but while we were at the bar, she came on to me.”

“Then you should’ve told her no!” I shouted, throwing my free arm out. “It’s easy. ‘Would you like some pussy?’” I lowered my voice to sound like a man. “‘No thanks, I’m on a pussy diet.’ Bam! Done.”

There was a definite chuckle behind me.

“It’s been two months,” Blake said, his tone almost whiny. “Men aren’t made to go that long.”

“Are you serious?” Glaring at him, I snarled, “No. Are you fucking serious? Two months isn’t a lifetime. Jerk it like a normal person.”

“It’s—”

Then, like some sort of mad woman, I impulsively whipped around to the beast and asked, “You could make it two months with only your hand, right?”

Something changed in his expression as he gruffly answered, “Aye.”

A quick burst of that visual popped into my head. It, along with the way he looked at me and his accented voice, were enough to make my brain go fuzzy. My voice was airy as I said, “See? It’s possible.”

“I know it was dumb,” Blake said. “The guys found out we hadn’t—”

“How?”

“How what?”

I spoke slowly because, for a book-smart man, he was an idiot. “How’d they find out? It’s not like it’s stamped on your forehead.”

He cringed as he shrugged. “It came up in conversation, and I told them.” Puffing his chest out, he seemed proud of himself when he added, “At least I didn’t lie by bragging and saying we’ve had sex.”

“No, you whined like an entitled prick.”

Ignoring my insult, he continued his attempt at a justification. “They were saying you were stringing me along. That a woman doesn’t make a man wait that long unless she’s after his money. I started buying into it.”

“Well, now you don’t have to worry. Install a fucking revolving door to accommodate your Macy’s Parade-sized line of women for all I care.” The hold on my temper was long gone, as was my filter. “But just know, none of them will ever suck or ride your dick as fucking magically as I would’ve.”

It wasn’t necessarily true, but I could tell by the way his face fell, the blow did the damage I’d wanted.

He looked forlorn. “I know I fucked up, okay? With you moving in, it was one last fling before we settled down. She was supposed to be gone before you got here.”

I quirked a brow. “That doesn’t make it better. That makes you an extra-big idiot, as well as a scuzzbag, for having a one-night stand in your own home the night before someone was supposed to move in.”

“We can make it—”

“No, we can’t.” Suddenly exhausted and over the whole damn thing, I gripped my box tighter to stop myself from throwing it at his stupid head. “Don’t call me again.”

Blake’s eyes widened, and a flash of something resembling fear or pain—maybe both—flashed across his features. But then it twisted, turning into something ugly as he sneered. “If you’re so frigid that you won’t put out in two fucking months, you can’t be surprised when I’m not going to sit around and wait. Can’t be pussy whipped if I never got any damn pussy.”

I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, the beast was at my back.

Literally.

“That’s e-fooking-nough.”

I craned my neck to look at the man, but his eyes were on Blake.

In response to the menacing glare, Blake went pale. Unfortunately, he wasn’t smart enough to stay quiet. “If you want to deal with her, be my guest. But don’t expect to get laid any time this century.”

I had the bad habit of being impulsive. Worse, I was petty. Back home, in response to Savannah Mills calling me trash, I’d rashly declared I’d go to MIT to make something of myself. I’d continued by predicting she’d be stuck in a dead-end marriage to the quarterback, who would inevitably grow fat and bald after being a serial cheater.

To my credit, I was attending MIT, partially because my pettiness had refused to let Savannah Mills be right. But it, and my impulsivity, were both qualities I needed to work on.

Just not right then.

A small, sexy smirk curled my lip. My voice was soft and lusty enough to make a phone sex operator jealous. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m going to fuck the hell out of him because two months is a long time for a woman to go with only her vibrator and a cheating asshole.” Strutting—though my lack of height and heels made it less effective than the woman’s earlier exit—I headed toward the opposite doorway. I paused and looked over my shoulder in time to see the beast’s hand engulf the knob and slam Blake’s door shut.

Inhaling deeply, I released the breath in a shaky rush. “I’m sorry about all the yelling. It’s way too early in the morning for that.”

His voice was low and gruff. “Not you who should be fookin’ sorry.”

Even the way he says ‘fuck’ is cool.

Fook.

Awesome.

“Still, I’m sorry.” My small smile was forced as the magnitude of what had happened sank in.

Goodbye, gorgeous apartment with the spacious living room and massive tub.

Hello, motels and couch surfing.

As if sensing where my thoughts were, the man gestured behind me. “I meant what I said. You should stay here.”

Oh, good. First, my dumbass wasted time with a dumbass cheater. Then, I drew a target on my back and put myself in the path of a beast.

I’m awesome at life.

Even with these thoughts, none of my warning sensors were going off. He may have been a massive man, but he didn’t scare me.

I could only assume that meant my stranger-danger instincts had joined my man-picking abilities in the garbage.

“Thanks,” I said, moving out of his doorway so he could get on with his life. “But I’m all set. I do appreciate the help. And sorry again about the noise.”

“Lass.” He reached into his apartment and pulled out a large suitcase. “I’m going out of town for three weeks. I’ve got a company coming that’s charging me a fookin’ arm and leg to walk my dog and keep an eye on the place. You wanna take care of those things, then you staying here is doing me a favor.”

My meema had fussed when she’d found out I’d be heading to Boston for school. She’d said I wasn’t tough enough to live in the city. Life in the south had made me sweet and trusting. Soft.

I’d sworn up and down she was wrong, her words stemming from her worry. Right then, though, her boasts of always being right were spot-on.

Because, insanely naïve as it was, I was considering his offer. Three weeks would give me time to find a new apartment. And the petty part of me liked Blake knowing I’d be across the hall.

Seeing my indecision, he pulled a wallet from his back pocket and handed me a license. “Text someone a picture of that. Between them and the himbo across the way, I’d be the first person they looked at if something happened to you.”

“Himbo?”

“A man who’s a bimbo.”

Wow, he really nailed Blake.

I studied his ID. Correct address. A picture that looked good and not like a mugshot after a week-long bender. A birthdate that said he’d turned thirty-two in May. “Killian Nox. Is that even a real name?”

“Aye.”

“Are you Irish or Scottish?”

“Aye,” he repeated.

My brows lowered. “One or both?”

“Aye,” he said for a third time.

I took his response to mean he was both.

Don’t do this, Augusta Allan. Don’t be a Dateline special in the making.

“My phone’s in my car,” I muttered, handing him back the card. For the entirety of the elevator ride down, I weighed the pros and cons.

Pro: I’ll have a place to live.

Con: He could be a murderer who plans to sneak back in the middle of the night to off me.

Pro: The building is close to school.

Con: Getting murdered.

Pro: The pettiness factor of making Blake’s life awkward for three weeks.

Con: I’m not big on dogs…

Oh, and the whole murder thing.

I unlocked my passenger door and opened it to set my box down before snagging my phone. Tapping it against the roof, I tried to figure out what I was going to do.

If I was a normal person, I’d have immediately gotten into my car and driven off into the proverbial sunset.

Instead, I was standing near the curb, contemplating whether having a place to stay was worth risking a giant of a man going Silence of the Lambs on me. I doubted I’d taste good with some fava beans and a nice chianti, and I knew lotion made my skin greasy, so I’d totally be getting the hose again.

It wasn’t as if him giving me his ID meant anything. It could be fake. Or maybe he didn’t care if people knew who he was because he’d be the one riding into the proverbial sunset after he went Dexter on my ass.

Think of it like an Airbnb. Only it’s free, minus taking care of the dog roommate.

When I thought about it like that, especially given my lack of options, I closed my door and headed back. I pushed the doorbell for 7B and waited, hoping he hadn’t changed his mind.

A moment later, there was a quiet buzz and click as the door unlocked.

Riding up the elevator again, I wasn’t filled with the same nervousness I had been earlier. Doubt and panic weren’t niggling at me.

I wasn’t sure whether that was a sign I was making the right choice, or if it meant I was a complete idiot with the instincts of a dead catfish, but I was going with the former.

When I reached the seventh floor, I didn’t hesitate before stepping off.

I turned toward the apartment and jolted, startled to see Killian leaning in his doorway. His back was against the frame with his body facing me.

“You came back,” he stated, his face not giving me any clue as to whether he considered that a good thing or not.

I held up my cell, giving it a little shake. “I told you my phone was in the car.”

“Aye, you did. I just assumed you’d be joining your phone in the car as you drove away.”

My eyes narrowed as I studied him. “Should I have?”

“Nah.” His lips curved up on one side. “I’m the one leaving my dog and possessions with a lass whose name I don’t know. What if you clean me out the second my ass hits the plane seat?”

My shoulders went back as I narrowed my gaze at him. “I’d never—”

“I’m teasing you.”

“Oh. And my name is Gus. Gus Allan.”

“Gus?” He shook his head. “Odd name for a flah lass.”

“A what?”

“A woman,” he said.

“My real name is Augusta. But everyone calls me Gus.” I fought the urge to glare over at Blake’s door, since he’d always refused to call me Gus. “Well, almost everyone.”

“Gus it is.” Holding his ID between his index and middle finger, he offered it to me before leaning back.

It amazed me that, for such a massive guy, all his movements were deliberate. He was in complete control of his body and he used that control to make sure he never crowded me. Other than when he’d had my back earlier, he’d kept his distance. Even then, he’d never touched me. He’d been closer, yes, but still hadn’t grazed me.

If his good guy thing is all an act, I’m gonna be so pissed. Probably dead, too, which will make me extra pissed.

I took the ID from him and snapped a picture, sending it quickly to my best friend and former roommate, Rosie.

Not even thirty seconds later, my phone vibrated multiple times.

Rosie: Who’s that?

Rosie: Do you know him?

Rosie: OMG, is this like a Tinder date safety text?

Rosie: What about Blake? Actually, I don’t care. Go home with this Killian Nox. Even his name is amazing.

Rosie: Call me immediately after.

Rosie: But seriously, go home with that man.

I skimmed the texts and rolled my eyes.

“Everything okay?” Killian asked.

When I met his gaze, my face heated but I nodded.

“Let me show you the place.” He stepped inside, leaving me the freedom to choose whether to follow.

It’s now or never.

Airbnb.

Airbnb.

Free.

Inhaling, I walked into his apartment and nearly choked as I gasped sharply with already full lungs.

“It’s gorgeous,” I breathed.

Although I was familiar with the layout since it was the same as Blake’s, the style was so different, the two didn’t look like they belonged in the same building. Blake’s was colored in black, white, and chrome, and filled with flashy décor.

Killian’s was more effortlessly masculine. His hardwood floors were polished and clean, not covered by an ugly white rug that’d somehow cost thousands of dollars despite being painfully scratchy. A balcony could be seen through two floor-to-ceiling windows. The walls were light gray, and his ceiling was a stark white that contrasted with the exposed dark wooden beams. His couch looked as though it might swallow me whole—the plush cushions well-worn and broken in, but in a good way. Dark mahogany bookshelves lined his side walls, each packed with so many books that some had to be stacked horizontally.

I almost expected to see a lit cigar, a decanter of brandy, and a woman in a negligee.

Since my quota for seeing scantily clad women had already been reached that morning, I was relieved that wasn’t the case.

His kitchen also had an exposed beam ceiling, but with the addition of a brick backdrop and dark counters.

It was such a cool apartment, I began to feel like I was taking advantage of him by staying there with only my very questionable dog sitting skills as payment.

I glanced at the beast of a man. Tattoos covered most of his muscular arms and at least one curled from beneath his collar up his neck. Adding in his overgrown hair and beard, I suddenly wondered what job he had that gave him the freedom to look as he did while also paying enough to afford his apartment.

My meema would’ve come at me with the dreaded wooden spoon had she known I was being so judgmental. It wasn’t that I thought he was ugly—it was actually the opposite—he just didn’t look like the stereotypical professional.

Your time with Blake has rotted your brain. He’s proof that clean-cut doesn’t make you a good man.

Anyway, you’re here to watch Killian’s dog, not analyze how he looks, no matter how nice his rear is in those black jeans.

At that thought, I asked, “Where’s your dog?”

He gave a small whistle, which was followed by the rapid clicking of nails against the floor.

I looked over and braced, biting back an alarmed shout as a large dog ran full force at me.

“Nolan,” Killian said in an even tone.

The one word was enough for the dog to sit, his butt skidding along the floor as he stopped.

Kilian whispered a few words of praise to the dog before turning to me. “This is Nolan.”

I looked down at the dog. His fur was almost the same color as his owner’s hair. Also like his owner, the longer length didn’t equal unkempt. The fur was gleaming and wavy, especially on his droopy ears. Without thought, I reached out to see if it felt as soft as it looked. I caught myself in time and paused to give the dog the chance to sniff me.

It wasn’t necessary, though, because as soon as my hand got close, the dog went wild, alternating between licking me and rubbing his head all over my arm.

I jolted from the onslaught, startled and nervous he’d decide I tasted good enough to eat.

“Nolan,” Killian said, making the dog stop at once and sit. His attention shifted to me. “You don’t like dogs.”

“I’m not used to them. My grandmother was allergic, so I don’t have a lot of experience.”

He turned and headed into his kitchen, returning a moment later with a dog biscuit. Handing it to me, he said, “Say his name and put it right in front of his nose.”

My eyes darted to the dog then back to Killian. “Are you crazy? I’ll lose my fingers.”

“Nah, lass, trust me.”

Holding the very edge of the biscuit, I said, “Nolan,” before tentatively holding the snack out.

To my surprise, Nolan didn’t make a move for the treat. He followed it with his eyes, but he didn’t budge.

“Now drop it and repeat his name,” Killian ordered.

I did as instructed, and the dog fell on the treat with the same enthusiasm I had around chocolate.

“He’s well-trained,” I muttered. “What breed is he?”

“Irish setter.” He stroked the dog’s head. “Us lads have to stick together.”

“So, you’re from Ireland?”

“Born in Scotland, moved to Ireland when I was a lad but spent time in both places. My ma was Irish, my dad a Scot. A few years after he died, my ma and I moved to the states.”

I hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming, but I was happy he had. It was interesting. He was interesting.

Tilting my head toward the front door, I asked, “Is that where you’re heading? Ireland?”

“Aye, but not to visit family. Business.”

“Oh.” I once again wondered what he did for a living, but decided I’d been nosy enough.

“Freelance work,” Killian offered, answering my unspoken question before glancing at his large watch. “Make yourself at home. There’s not much food in the fridge since I’ll be gone, but you can eat whatever you find. Fully stocked bar by the window, have at it. Takeout menus are in the drawer next to the stove, add your orders to my accounts. There’s a tub in my master bathroom. Cleaning person comes on Thursdays. Nolan’s schedule and the security info are written on the pad on the fridge. There’s a spare key on the counter. Anything else?”

He’d said so much so quickly, it took me a moment to process it all. “Uh, where’s your TV?”

“Don’t have one.”

I couldn’t hide my shock and outrage. “What? Then what’s your furniture aimed at?”

He didn’t answer verbally, but he smiled, his hazel eyes amused.

“Do you have WiFi?” Noticing how panicked I sounded at the idea he didn’t, I added, “I’m a student. If you don’t, it’s no big deal, I can do my homework in the library.”

“The login info is on Nolan’s schedule.” He shook his head as he headed for the door. “I’m not a complete savage.”

“I dunno,” I muttered when I thought he was out of earshot, “you don’t even have a TV.”

His laughter caught me off guard. It was full and deep—and more appealing than I cared to admit.

“Your keys,” he said, still laughing as he held up his hand.

Lost in both his laughter and the way it changed his face, I tossed him my key ring without thinking. Only when he was heading out the door did I snap out of my daze. “Where are you going?”

“I assume you have boxes, lass.”

Even with the storage unit I’d gotten for my furniture, there were boxes. A lot of them.

“I’ll take care of them later,” I said.

“Nah, I got it. Keep an eye on Nolan.” Without giving me the chance to argue, he closed the door behind him.

I dragged my eyes from the door to the dog who was sitting patiently at my feet. “So… you like… stuff?”

His tail wagged, which I took as an affirmative.

Since my conversation skills left a lot to be desired, I went into the kitchen and found the notepad that held Nolan’s schedule. I was reading through it when the door opened, and Killian came in carrying a large stack of boxes.

“You don’t have to bring them all in,” I said, rushing over to help. “I can get them later.”

His only response was to give me a look before turning and leaving again.

After his second trip and my millionth offer to help, it became obvious I was only getting in his way. I gave up and sat on the floor to pet Nolan, trying not to think about how awry the day had gone. As I’d tossed and turned the night before, my restless mind listing the ways things could go south, none of my possibilities had come close to the truth.

While it would’ve taken me about fifty trips to unload my car, Killian did the job in four. Since I couldn’t exactly keep my boxes in the living room, no matter how awesome of a fort they’d make, he began stacking them in a room down the hall. My duffels and totes that held my everyday items were left in the hallway for me to deal with.

When the last load was set aside, Killian grabbed his suitcases before stopping in front of where I sat. His face was blank as he looked down at me. “Not what you were planning, but you okay with this?”

I smiled my gratitude. “I really appreciate you trusting me enough to let me stay here.”

As he stroked Nolan’s head, his lips curved into a smirk. He turned and was almost to the door before saying, “It’s not like you’re gonna steal my TV.”

The door clicked closed behind him, and I burst out laughing.

He’s got jokes.