Once I’d parked in my reserved spot in the lot a block from my place, I walked home...to find Avi, bundled up in a coat, hat, and scarf, sitting on my stoop.

As I walked up to him, I called, “You said seven!”

He looked up from his phone and grinned. “I couldn’t wait.”

Oh god, that smile. I would have given him my keys and signed the deed over to him if he’d asked. I tried to tell myself it was just a face and teeth and lips and muscle movement—we all had those things. But reason wasn’t happening. Avi’s smile stood out from the rest. It was brighter, livelier, more real. And trouble. Definitely trouble.

“I know I said my place was a mess, but I was actually going to try to pick up before you got here so you’d only see the ‘adorable’ mess. Now you’re going to see the real mess.”

He stood up, far too close to me. “I like messy.”

I tapped his chest. “Don’t be all cute and flirty.”

He held up his hands. “When I flirt, you will know.”

I rolled my eyes and turned to unlock my front door, Avi right on my heels. Once inside, I slipped off my red wool coat and hung it in the small coat closet by the front door.

“You can hang yours in here too. I guess I’ll have to get used to sharing it with your giant, puffy coat.”

He unwrapped his scarf. “You’ve decided then?”

As he unzipped his coat, I said, “Not really. I’m still thinking.”

Once Avi hung up his coat, he stepped closer to me and fingered the collar of my suit jacket. “I like this. You look like an ass-kicker.”

I looked down at his hand on my jacket. “I’ve been known to kick some ass...with my legal briefs.”

He dropped his hand and shook his head. “I didn’t quite believe you were a lawyer when I met you.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why? Too blonde? Too female?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe too sweet?”

I rolled my eyes again. “Save your lines for someone else.” I walked ahead of him into my living room, piles of boxes still everywhere. “Mind waiting here? I’m going to go change really quick.”

Avi flopped down on the couch. “I’m good.”

I ran upstairs and threw on a pair of compression leggings and a tank top—if I wore exercise clothes, the chances of me going to the gym were higher. Not high, just higher. I pulled my hair into a messy bun and washed all the makeup off my face. As much as I loved the feeling of wearing my suits with my hair perfectly done and makeup neatly applied, the feeling of taking it all off at the end of the day was even better.

When I went back downstairs, Avi...was building a bookshelf?

He kneeled on the floor with his back to me, pieces of my Ikea bookshelf spread in front of him. He’d already built the base, and as I watched, he steadily—and seemingly easily—built the frame.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said.

I kneeled next to him, and he glanced over at me, his gaze lingering on my bare face. “Why not? I’m trying to win you over.”

“Well, it’s working.”

“I told you I am a very good roommate.”

Avi worked quickly and efficiently while I provided moral support. I watched him move, his long fingers just as deft at using a screwdriver as they were at slicing through hair with shears. And let’s face it, I couldn’t help imagining all the other things those fingers would be good at.

Within fifteen minutes, my first bookshelf was built and moved into place.

“Should I unpack all the books for you?” he asked.

“No, my plan is to turn one of the spare bedrooms into my office, so I’ll put the books up there. This one is going to hold decorations...maybe a couple books if they have a cute spine.”

He barked out a short laugh. “Cute spine, huh?”

I opened the closest box and let him look inside. “Yeah. Most of my books are boring-as-hell law books that, while useful, aren’t exactly pretty.”

Avi picked up the heavy box. “So, I will take this upstairs for you. Show me.”

I walked up the stairs ahead of him and led him into the small room at the end of the hall, my desk and chair the only furniture inside. Avi set the box down in the corner and went back downstairs for another.

I sat down in my desk chair, spinning in circles as I waited. I realized Avi was steamrolling me again, but this time, it felt good. Maybe I needed someone to whip my ass into shape and point me in the right direction. And it would be temporary anyway. In six months, Avi would move out, my house would look amazing, and my life would be under control. Well, at least I felt pretty sure about the first two.

Avi came back in with another box and set it down next to the first. Then he stood, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, and studied me for a beat. His eyes moved along my face, down my neck, and swept over my body.

“When can you move in?” I asked.

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“I can move in tomorrow. This weekend. When is good for you?”

I smiled at him. “Have you had dinner?”

“No, not yet.”

“Me either, and I’m starving. Why don’t I cook us something and we can talk?”

“You cook?”

I stood up from my office chair and gave him a saucy look. “Oh, do I ever.”

In the kitchen, Avi sat on a stool at the counter while I pulled ingredients out of the refrigerator and cabinets.

“I roasted a chicken the night before last and made a loaf of bread this morning. I planned on roasting some veggies and heating up the chicken. Any objections?”

He blinked. “You made a loaf of bread...before work?”

I stood on the other side of the counter, facing him, while I chopped up asparagus. “Well, with the help of my trusty bread maker. I did make muffins in the oven, though.”

“You made a loaf of bread and muffins this morning?”

I tossed the asparagus on a baking sheet and moved on to cutting up mushrooms. “I didn’t sleep very well last night. A lot on my mind.”

“How was the first day of your new job?”

I looked up and smiled at him. “You remembered?”

He nodded once. “Of course.”

“Thank you for asking. It was pretty great. Extremely different than what I’m used to, but I think I’ll enjoy the work once I get into my groove.” I put the mushrooms on the pan and tossed everything with olive oil and some dried herbs, then slid it into the oven.

“Why did you change jobs?”

I blew out a long puff of air. “Long, ugly story I’d rather save for another day. Basically, shit happened that made it impossible for me to stay there.” I opened up the plastic storage container on the counter. “Want a muffin while dinner cooks?”

He reached into the container, grabbing one, and I watched with delight as he took his first bite. I loved feeding people, and more than that, I adored seeing their reaction to my cooking. Avi let out a low moan that hit me right between my legs. I’d feed him a thousand muffins if he’d just keep making that sound.

“This is outstanding,” he said, his voice muffled by the muffin.

“Stick with me, kid. There’s more where that came from.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You cook a lot?”

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s my thing. Soothes me. And watch out, because I love cooking for other people.”

“Why would anyone ever complain about that?”

“No one has. Frannie and I haven’t lived together for nearly a year, but she still comes over for dinner all the time. I don’t know. I think I can be intense in my need to nurture.”

Avi tried to reach into the container for another muffin, but I batted his hand away, making him laugh. “If you continue feeding me muffins, I will let you nurture me, no problem.”

I gave him a mock stern look. “No more muffins until after dinner!”

“I miss my mother, so I’ll be happy to have a new one.”

Ignoring the fact that he called me a mother, I asked, “Is your mom in Israel?”

He sighed. “She is. I have a lot of family in the U.S., but my mom and dad live there.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Five years now. I spent many summers of my childhood here too. I have dual citizenship, and once I did my military service, I needed a change, so I moved here.”

I knew Israel had compulsory military service, but it hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that Avi had served. It seemed incongruous: this tall, sleek man who did amazing hair had been a soldier.

“How long were you in the military?” I asked.

“I did my three required years plus one extra. After that, I was finished. Couldn’t do it anymore. I love my country, but…” he shook his head, “I was done.”

“How did you go from serving in the military to doing hair?”

I hadn’t realized he’d tensed until his shoulders relaxed. Talking about his time in the service obviously wasn’t a comfortable topic.

“It’s a family business. Both my parents, my aunts, cousins, all are stylists. I was basically raised in a salon.”

Huh. Who is this guy? Nothing he said was expected. He kept surprising me.

“Where did you work before Salon 410?”

“My aunt—my dad’s sister—owns a salon near Tiber City. She apprenticed me and let me work there after I got my license. Working with family…” he ran a hand over his hair, “I needed a change from that too.”

The timer on the oven beeped, so I busied myself with dishing out the veggies, chicken, and crusty bread. I handed him his plate, and asked, “Want to have a carpet picnic?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Does this not mean what I think it means?”

I snorted with laughter. “Did you think I was being dirty?”

“Well…”

I elbowed him as I walked by. “I mean, want to sit on the rug in the living room and have a picnic there? Gutter mind.”

Avi had cleared enough boxes that there was actually room to sit down on the floor in the living room. Frannie and I had done this for every meal when we lived together, and it just wasn’t the same eating dinner on the floor by myself. In fact, it was kind of sad.

He sat on the other side of the coffee table, and I passed him one of the bottles of beer I’d brought over. He got to work on his food immediately, tearing off a hunk of bread with his teeth, then letting out another one of his low groans. I crossed my legs, thrown off-kilter by how erotic it was watching and listening to him eat. A man devouring food had never turned me on like this.

He’d closed his eyes at some point in the chewing process and suddenly he opened them, catching me staring. “You really made this?” he asked.

“Mmmhmm. I usually make a loaf every couple days. I’ve ruined myself for store-bought bread forever. Nothing can compare.”

He shook his head and took another bite. “I think I’m ruined too.”

His compliment had me wanting to sashay around the living room, preening and waving to my fans. Instead, I just smiled and said thank you. Avi was not prepared for my grand displays of ego...yet. I’d lure him in with my false sense of modesty, and then bam! I’d let each of his compliments on my cooking go straight to my head.

Or probably not.

“So, why six months?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I just threw that out there to give you an easy way out. Anyone can do almost anything for six months. We can both live with a stranger for six months, I think.”

“We’re not really strangers anymore.”

He raised an eyebrow. “No? You do not even know my last name. It’s Cohen, by the way.”

“Avi Cohen. I like it. I’m Laurel Campanella from Jersey. That’s about all you need to know about me.”

“Really? I think there is a lot more to you in your short little body.”

“Hey! Enough with the short! Have I brought up your rather oversized stature?”

He reached out and cupped the top of my head in his wide hands. “There is nothing wrong with being small. You’re still very lovely.”

I had to be blushing based on the flames I felt shooting up my cheeks. Lovely wasn’t something I got called a lot...or ever. Synonyms of cute were much more commonly thrown my way. That was what happened when you were five feet nothing. Always the cute one, never the bombshell. Not that I needed to be a bombshell—although being someone’s bombshell would have been nice.

“Thank you.” I cleared my throat. “You’re lovely too.”

He chuckled. “Even though I am oversized?”

“Especially because you’re oversized. I gravitate toward people of unusual height.”

Avi threw his head back and laughed, and I liked the sound almost as much as his groans. His shoulders shook, and he slapped the coffee table with his palm.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, he said, “I like you, Laurel.”

Oh. Oh. My name, on his lips, with that rolling accent…it was even better than I’d thought it would be.

Rubbing my stomach, where a swirling storm of butterflies had kicked up, I said, “Ground rules.”

“Ground rules?”

“Yes. Wait right there!”

I hopped up and dug through one of the boxes until I found printer paper and a highlighter. On the top of the paper, I scrawled “Roommate Rules.”

“Okay, rule number one. No flirting,” I said.

He laid his hand over mine. “Don’t write that. It is impossible for me not to flirt with you.”

“Impossible? Really?”

“Yes. It’s too fun.”

Well, obviously the reason wouldn’t be because he found me irresistible. Not that I wanted him to find me irresistible. Not that I was starting to find him irresistible.

“Okay, if flirting is on the table, then rule number one has to be no sex.”

Avi nodded. “I will agree to that.”

No, no! Don’t agree to that! Argue with me!

“Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page. Rule two...hmmm. How about no parties unless we both agree?”

“You’ll find I’m not really a party thrower. So that rule is fine with me.”

I scribbled it down in neon pink ink. “Rule three: clean up your shit.”

Avi scoffed and looked down his nose at me. “Really?”

“This will apply to me too! I promise I’m not usually such a slob, I’ve just had a lot going on lately.”

“I believe you.” He winked, and I sighed. “I’m extremely tidy and I have very few belongings. I agree with this rule.”

“We have three rules so far. Do you have suggestions?” I asked.

“Not really. I think we will be fine with our three rules.”

I exhaled quickly, snapped the cap back on my marker, and held out my hand for him to shake. He took it, his warm hand completely engulfing my own, and shook slowly. Then he turned my hand over, still holding it in his, and examined it, tracing the lines of my bones all the way to my fingertips.

With a shaky voice, I said, “Hey, Avi, how about you give me my hand back?”

He smirked and let go.

“Your small hands fascinate me. How do you hold pencils? Can you open jars? They seem very fragile.”

I gave him slightly harder than a friendly punch on the arm. “These small hands have been known to slap the shit out of my brothers, so watch it.”

He rubbed his bicep like he’d been grievously injured. “I am so very sorry. I was obviously mistaken.”

Avi stayed for a little while longer and we got down to the nitty gritty of our roommate agreement. I told him I’d prepare a lease for him to sign and we went over what his rent would be.

Before he left, I gave him my spare key and a parking pass since he’d be moving in the next day while I was still at work.

The last forty-eight hours had been a whirlwind. New hair, new job, and now, new roommate.

And whether I wanted to admit it or not, new crush.