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Mammal?

Marsupial!

Instagram possum facts zip through my addled brain at the speed of light before I take hold of my limbs andmove.

With a shriek probably heard three states away, I hurl the garbage bag at the creature and dart back into the building. Unfortunately, Archer is a step ahead of me but stopped, like he suddenly remembered he was probably supposed to be chivalrous and let me go first.

I plow into him, knocking us both to the ground. His bag of garbage goes flying and, unfortunately, lands in exactly the right spot to block the door from closing.

And then the attack possum leaps over the garbage bag and bolts inside The Serendipity.

Acting completely on impulse and instinct, I grab Archer by his fancy suit lapels and roll. We’re a tangle of limbs and chaos of grunts, ending when I hit the wall. Archer’s broad back is the only thing shielding us from certain possum doom.

The creature bolts past us in a streak of dirty gray fur, scamper-sprinting toward the front of the building like it’s on some kind of mission.

Only once it’s halfway down the hall do I turn my attention back to Archer and realize I’m still clutching his jacket with a certain-death grip, holding him inches away. We are practically nose to nose, our breaths mingling.

I realize I’m staring at his mouth, which has the tiniest white scar through his cupid’s bow, and my gaze snaps up to his. Archer is already looking into my eyes, and unlike so many times before, he doesn’t glance away.

His eyes are lovely, actually, a dark blue-gray that’s softer than I’d thought, almost like the color of sky at twilight after the golds and pinks have faded. A warm, fluttery feeling moves through my middle. His gaze is heavy, weighted with something I cannot read.

But there’s an openness and vulnerability to him right now, as though crashing to the ground knocked loose whatevertight shell he keeps wrapped around himself. What’s revealed underneath has left me stunned and breathless.

Or maybe I just knocked the wind out of myself while rolling.

“Sorry,” I say in a breathy whisper, not even sure what I’m apologizing for.

Knocking him over?

Not taking him seriously about the possum?

Or maybe for not making any move to put a reasonable distance between us?

Right now, the distance between us is highlyunreasonable. We’reend of a first date about to kiss close.

You may kiss the brideclose.

Soldier back from warclose.

Or, in our case,possum frightened into panic modeclose.

“For what?” Archer says, his voice just as unsteady as mine.

“What?” I parrot back. My thoughts are syrupy and slow.

“You’re sorry for which part—for not believing me about the attack opossum, tackling me, or ensuring my suit will need to be dry-cleaned and pressed?”

I swear, I see a hint of amusement in his eyes. I didn’t think Archer had the ability tobeamused.

I release my grip on his lapels. But pressed this close together, my hands have nowhere to go except to what I have confirmed is a muscular chest. Because it’s not enough that Archer Gaines smells good and has really lovely eyes—when he’s not glaring at me. He has to pack a bunch of muscles underneath his fancy suits too.

There’s a crash and clatter at the end of the hall, startling me out of whatever sorcery has left me feeling a whole new set of emotions for Archer Gaines.

He scrambles to his feet and reaches down, tugging me up in a swift motion—more evidence of his enviable fitness level. I’m so startled, I just stand there, gaping.

Until barking at the front of the building has both our heads whipping that way.

Before my feet can move, Archer is jogging down the hall. He turns his head and calls, “Considering this is your fault, are you going to help?”