Seems Will’s joke was on me.

He hasn’t called this morning. Not that I’m waiting for him to call. If last night was just a one-night stand, I’m perfectly okay with that. Not that I wouldn’t love to ride that train again, so to speak, but it is what it is.

No regrets. That’s my new motto.

In fact, it’s probably for the best if it was just a one-time thing. I have baggage. And issues.

The doorbell rings, and I freeze. I’m not ready to see him. A phone call? Fine. But I’m not ready for him to be at my door. I’ll probably do something silly and climb him again.

And if it’s a process server, well, I’m not prepared for that either.

So, I do what any red-blooded woman would do. I hide in the closet.

My phone begins to ring, startling me. “Hello?” I whisper.

“Why are we whispering?” Jules asks, also with a whisper.

“Because I’m in the closet. Someone’s at the door, and I don’t want to answer it.”

“Amelia Montgomery, you’re a grown woman. If you don’t want to answer the door, you just don’t. You don’t have to hide.”

“I’m not hiding.” I wince. “I’m totally hiding. I don’t want to see Wyatt. I’m not ready for that yet.”

“Who the hell is Wyatt?”

“My neighbor. The one who came over here in the middle of the night. And I totally had sex with him.”

“What?” she screeches, just as the doorbell rings again. “Holy shit, Lia.”

“I know, I fucked a stranger, and I feel a little slutty.”

“As long as it was safe and consensual, why should you feel slutty?”

“It was those things. But I feel slutty because I barely know his name.”

“Atta girl,” Jules says with a smile in her voice. “But I still don’t think you should be hiding in the closet.”

My phone beeps with another call trying to get through. I check it and feel the butterflies in my stomach take flight. “He’s calling through right now.”

“Answer it!”

“I’ll call you back.”

“I’m staying on the line,” she says. “Just switch over.”

I grin and accept his call. “Hello?”

“Why aren’t you answering your door?”

I bite my lip and consider lying, but then decide, fuck it. “Because I’m not sure that I’m ready to see you. I’m not trying to be a jerk, I’m just . . . dumb.”

“Why?”

“Because, I don’t know.” I roll my eyes, sounding stupid to my own ears, and then remember Jules on the other line. “Hold on, I have another call.”

I switch back to Jules. “It’s him.”

“And?”

“He’s at the door and wants to know why I won’t answer it.”

“I’m wondering the same thing, honey.” She laughs. “Go answer the door, and then call me later to give me the scoop. Oh, and I was calling to tell you that we’re doing girls’ night out Friday night. So don’t make any plans with Sexy Neighbor.”

She hangs up, and I switch back to Wyatt. “You there?”

“Yes. Open the door.”

“What if I say no?”

“I’ll go home. I won’t like it, but I’ll go home.”

I open the closet door and peer out as if someone’s going to jump out and murder me. Which is dumb. It’s Wyatt at the door, not the process server or a serial killer. So I end the call and walk to the door, turn the knob, and pull it open slowly, expecting him to not look nearly as delicious as he did last night. It was just the heat of the moment. The lighting. The lack of sleep.

And when I see him leaning one shoulder on the doorjamb, his sunglasses propped on his head, his hazel eyes smiling down at me, I know I was right.

He’s not nearly as delicious as he was last night.

He’s much, much better.

~Amelia~

“Hi.” I bite my lip and silently scowl at myself. Is that the best I can come up with? God, I’m so out of practice with this sort of thing. But then he smiles, that slow, Cheshire cat smile, and I forget all about how stupid I sound.

“You look fantastic this morning,” he says, making me grin.

“You’re sweet, but I don’t. Not yet.”

His eyes travel up and down my body, then land on my face again. “You look good from here. Grab your purse, I’m taking you out.”

“Come again?” I feel silly standing in my doorway.

“Oh, you will,” he says with a cocky smirk, and my sore lady parts pulse as I bust out laughing. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Unless you really are allergic to the sunshine.”

“I love the sun. But I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Working.” I sigh and stand back, ushering him inside the house. “I just need an hour, and then I’ll be happy to come spend the day with you. You can watch if you want.”

That might have been a stupid move. I don’t mind when people watch me work, but maybe Wyatt has other things to do.

“Cool,” he says simply. “Lead the way.”

I climb the stairs to the guest room where my studio is set up.

“More cameras,” he says. “I’m intrigued.”

I just smile and point to a chair out of range of the camera. “You can sit there.”

He complies, leans his elbows on his knees, and watches me intently.

I take a deep breath while I make sure that I have everything I need for the video, then hit record.

“Hey, Beauty Brigade, I’m Amelia Montgomery, coming at you with a new makeup tutorial. I’ve had a slight change of plans for today. I know I told you all on my Instagram yesterday that I’d be doing a video about getting glammed up for date night, but my plans changed unexpectedly. Today, I’m going to walk you through my makeup routine when I don’t have much time to get ready.

“In fact, this whole routine usually takes me about ten minutes if I’m not going through it step by step. So, let’s get started, shall we?”

I glance over at Wyatt, who seems to be transfixed. “I’ll edit this part,” I inform him, and reach for my face primer.

“Okay, first—” I spend the next thirty minutes working through a simple makeup routine. It takes me longer than normal because I get tongue-tied a couple of times and have to go back, knowing that I’ll edit the video later.

When my makeup is finished, and I’ve reminded viewers to subscribe to my page, I stop the recording, back it up a bit so I can listen to the sound, and then save everything so I can come back later for editing.

“Okay,” Wyatt begins as I stand. “That was amazing, and I need to know more.”

I grin, ridiculously excited that he’s intrigued and not put off by what he just saw. “I’ll be happy to answer all of your questions. But let’s talk in the car. I could use some sunshine.”

“My pleasure.” He gestures for me to go ahead of him, opens the door to both the house and the car for me, and then sets off toward downtown. “So, you must be a YouTube vlogger.”

“I am,” I reply with a nod.

“How many subscribers do you have?”

“The last time I checked, I was just under three and a half million.” I look over at him, curious how he’ll respond to that. Vinnie used to hate it.