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But she did her best to breathe through the rage because being mean to him wasn’t going to win her anything, and she didn’t do uncontrolled rage. Not anymore.

Not even when someone was an uncontrolled, vile jerk...

And then the front door opened and he was standing there, wearing a flannel shirt, a black cowboy hat, blue jeans and...socks. He did not have his work boots on yet.

It disturbed her that even when angry with him, the impact of him, physically, was like getting hit by a truck. A very sexy truck.

“Come on in.”

“I’m on time,” she said, scampering up to the doorway.

“Sure are,” he said, but somehow managed to sound calm and like she was wrong all at once.

“I am,” she said, keeping her voice as smooth and placid as possible.

He looked at her, his expression maddeningly blank. “Yeah.”

“You aren’t ready to go.”

“No. I’m not.”

She squinted. “You said you were always ready to go at six sharp.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“And you aren’t,” she pointed out.

“You’re the one who invited yourself along today, Miss Sullivan. I don’t quite understand why you think it’s up to you to give me a lecture on timekeeping.”

That shut her up effectively. Because he was right. She’d pushed for this. She didn’t feel bad in the sense that he’d made her feel mean. No, he’d made her feel like she’d made a grave tactical error. He was...maybe trying to annoy her? And she was letting him.

There was a big pile of shoes by the door, but his work boots were set next to a bench right there in the expansive entryway.

The kitchen that was behind him was huge, well-appointed with many modern conveniences.

She heard footsteps and startled, looking up at the staircase to the right, to see a little blonde wearing a white T-shirt and short shorts flitting down the stairs.

“Levi,” she said. “I didn’t know that you had company.”

Well, Quinn felt like saying the exact same thing.

She felt...she felt like she’d been dipped in boiling oil. She was hot. And raw.

He was letting her see his morning-after...situation. Oh, she hated men so much.

Because of course he just had some woman in his house that he...

“I can wait outside,” said Quinn.

“No need,” said the blonde, waving her hand. “Are you...coming or going?”

Quinn frowned. “I’m... I just got here.”

Did he have a revolving door? And this blonde woman was just used to it? She had the night shift, some other woman had the day shift?

Who in the world had that kind of time? Quinn had never managed to squeeze a love affair into her life, and Levi was juggling multiple women?

“Okay,” said the woman, laughing. “That makes more sense. I didn’t think he had that big of a personality transplant since I was here last year. I’m Camilla. Levi’s sister.”