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“What are you doing here?” he asked. His tone wasn’t angry, exactly—but sharp enough to make my stomach twist.

My smile faltered. “I—sorry. You said I could come if I needed to get away. I didn’t mean to—”

He held up a hand, cutting me off.

“I’m not mad,” he said. “Just surprised. I was thinking about you, then here you are.”

What did he mean he was thinking about me, and what was he thinking? I wished I was one of those women who would have just asked. I fought the urge to wring my hands.

He sniffed the air, the edge of his voice soft now. “Smells good in here, sweetheart. What you been up to?”

I laughed, my shoulders dropping as I exhaled. “Cooking. For you.”

I motioned to the containers lined up on the counter. “I didn’t want to be home right now, so I just... did what I do. I brought a change of clothes and stuff. I hope you don’t mind.”

He walked over to the island, lifted one of the lids, peeked inside.

“Nah, I don’t mind. We can be roommates.”

I blinked. “Roommates?”

His eyes met mine. “You heard me. We’ll be living together.”

There was something in his gaze that sent the butterflies in my belly into a full-blown riot.

Before I could say anything back—before my brain could even decide what to think or even what to say—he tilted his head and focused on the food, eating with his hand.Acting like he hadn’t just sent me into a mental frenzy. I needed to calm down. I was a married woman who had just found out her husband was cheating. I was probably... spiraling mentally and projecting all my heartbreak into the closest thing that felt good and safe and warm.

And he was all three.

I should have been grieving, but here my ass was standing in this man’s kitchen, wearing borrowed peace and cooking him food like I’d done it a hundred times.

And I liked the feeling I got from how thankful he looked and sounded.

I liked that he looked at me like I mattered. I liked that he hadn’t told me to leave.

And God help me—when he called mesweetheartand saidwe would be living together... I liked that too. Too much.

I sighed again, mentally this time.

Jesus, be a fence and keep me from crawling across this kitchen island and making a mistake I can’t take back.

And Lord, if you’re not gonna stop me, don’t let me beg. Not out loud.

I pressed my thighs together and wiped my hands on a dish towel, like it could clean away my dirty thoughts.

“You wanna ride with me?” he asked, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge like this was just any day.

“Where?”

“Got a property I need to check on. Nothing major, just some inspection stuff. Last night, you said you were Mrs. HGTV.” He smirked. “Come on. Help me out.”

My mouth opened slightly, I was surprised. “Really?”

He nodded, already heading toward the door. “Yeah, come on.”

I grabbed my bag and followed the dumbest smile on my face.

He’d listened. To me.