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“Didn’t you like Max for about five minutes in twelfth grade?”

“It was a phase. He’d just started his band.”

“I don’t get the appeal of the musician thing.”

All the guys in Max’s band are annoying and have egos the size of blimps.

“That’s because you don’t like bad boys, Piper. You like stoic and studly bodyguard types.”

“Those were some interesting adjectives you just chose.”

“Admit it—Noah is your brand of catnip.”

“I’m not admitting anything.”

But when I pull into my drive and see Noah’s SUV is gone, I sigh, just like Olivia earlier.

I’m afraid my best friend is right. Noah isexactlymy brand of catnip.

4

I’m sittingon the couch, watching the latest episode of one of my K-dramas on my phone, when the front door opens. No one has a key except my grandparents, who are currently in Maine, my parents, who are touring the eastern National Parks this summer, and Noah.

Since I just checked our family circle on the location app earlier and everyone was where they should be, it must be Noah.

He and I are in a circle together as well. I’m not sure why he hasn’t left it. Though, to be fair, I’m not sure why I haven’t left it either. I checked it once while he was in Denver, but I felt like a stalker and didn’t look again.

Noah walks into the living room and pauses when he sees me on the couch. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

He glances toward the kitchen. “I thought Cassian and Max were headed this way.”

“They’re not here yet.”

My eyes travel over him, not accustomed to seeing him in anything but a tee and his leather jacket. He’s wearing a button-up shirt and slacks, carrying his laptop bag and discarded tie.He’s rolled the shirtsleeves up to his elbows like he doesn’t have the patience for them. The look is half-professional and fully hot.

“I see your job came with a new dress code,” I say.

“The one downside of the promotion.” Noticing my eyes have strayed to his forearms, he explains, “The AC isn’t working in my new office.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I might work from home tomorrow.” He shifts a little. “If that’s all right?”

Home, which is here.

“That’s fine.” I look back at my phone. “I’ll be out back most of the day anyway.”

“I’m going to change, and then I need to call my realtor. I’ll be down in a bit to help with dinner.”

“No hurry,” I say, distracted by how cozy having him here feels.

Though I pretend to focus on the video, I watch him climb the stairs. As soon as he’s gone, I press a hand to my stomach, willing the butterflies to calm the heck down.

Maybe it would be easier if we’d never gotten close, if I didn’t remember the heat of his kiss or the feel of his hands as he touched me. But I do remember—with amazing clarity.

Thankfully, my wandering thoughts are interrupted by a phone notification.