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Irrelevant, I tell myself.Too old. Too grumpy. Too much the owner of the building you live in.

I skip over the parts of Archer that make my stomach flip even now. Instead, I focus on how cold and stiff he was, how he marched me silently back down to unlock my apartment like he was my prison warden.

Which somehowreallyworked for him. Something—besides my closet—is clearly wrong with me.

“Well—say something.”

Sophie hasn’t spoken a word buthaspolished off most of the broken cookie pieces.

“It’s my fault,” she says miserably.

“What? Did you enchant my closet somehow?”

“No. I have your blue sweater. I borrowed it and didn’t give it back yet. It’s sosoft,” she says in a reverent whisper.

“It is the very best sweater,” I agree. “But this didn’t happen because you haven’t returned it. Wait—what about the rest of it? You don’t think I’ve lost my mind or my marbles?”

I hate how my voice wobbles a little at the question. My mental health is something of a touchy subject for me.

Sophie gives me a fierce look. “Like I said—never.” She drags a finger through the icing and pops it in her mouth, her expression turning thoughtful. “I do have some thoughts, but first—I have questions.”

“Shoot,” I say, straightening on my stool and preparing to talk her through how it happened.

“What was the new owner like, aside from grumpy? Is he anything like Galentine? Did you get the sense he’s going to come in and change everything? Do we need to start looking for a new place to live?”

Not the questions I anticipated, but okay.

I do get it. Ever since Galentine mentioned selling The Serendipity, rumors have swirled among the residents. Mostly because we live in a gorgeous historic building in a fantastic downtown location with relatively low rent. Securing an apartment here is like winning the lottery.

Galentine announcing her retirement and subsequent selling of the building sent many residents into a mild panic. Though she loves to talk, she was tight-lipped about the person who purchased The Serendipity. Rumors spread anyway about the new owner being a filthy rich recluse—seems pretty close to accurate.

Galentine could not have picked a more different person to carry on her legacy. But maybe she was more concerned with retirement money?

Doesn’t quite seem in character, but then, she was never someone who made predictable decisions.

“He is absolutely nothing like Galentine. And we probably should be worried. Especially me, now that he thinks I either lied about sneaking into his apartment or that I’m totally unstable.”

Sophie eats the last cookie. “Unrelated but also critical info—is he hot?”

“I didn’t notice,” I lie, already feeling a blush rising in my cheeks.

Sophie doesn’t miss my reaction, and she smirks. “Right. Clearly, heishot. And you haven’t shown any interest in a guy since?—”

“I’mnotinterested in him,” I say, but it comes out a little too defensive.

Because despite Archer Gaines being hot, I’mnotinterested. And, based on the cool way he assessed me, neither is he.

In case I need any more reasons tonotbe interested, Archer is older. Maybe ten years or so? There was no sign of gray in his hair, but the one time he smiled, he had those little lines around his eyes that have a way of making men somehow look more attractive.

Also, unless Bellamy was kidding about the billionaire thing, Archer is ridiculously wealthy. Polished and poised in his suit and shoes, which simply reeked of not only money but status and class. Sophisticated and serious to my … well, neither of those things.

I’m the broke, disheveled failed baker who apparently teleports in llama pajamas.

Even if he weren’t probably a hair too old and a lot too classy for me, there’s no chance he saw me and thought,Now, there’s a woman I’d like to take out on a date!

So, I can stop thinking about him and his hotness right now.

Sophie’s playful expression disappears. “For real, though—do you seriously think we need to start apartment hunting?”