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“Will this place work?” I ask. That’s businesslike, right?

“It’s great,” she enthuses.

“Yeah?” I survey the living room with fresh eyes. The walls are bare. There isn’t much furniture either. Agatha at least had a few extra things to make the place home. I should have gotten a reading chair or something. A welcome basket? Or a kitten?

A kitten is not a housewarming gift.

“Did you…want to foster here?”

Sabrina’s smile knocks me off-kilter. “That’s sweet of you, Tyler. Truly it is. I should probably focus on your kids though.”

It’s not a correction. But it is a reminder.

Right. The kids. The reason I hired her, and yet here I am tossing out offers to turn this place into an animal sanctuary. I scratch my jaw and mention apologetically, “The place is a little bare.”

Sabrina’s eyes light up. “Actually, I can picture it perfectly. Everything I’ll do here.

And enjoy here. Like that” —she points to an empty corner—“it’s a perfect place for morning yoga.

I’ll fix it up so cute. Put down a yoga mat, maybe a little table with some candles.

I wouldn’t burn them though. I just like the smell of candles. ”

“Do you do yoga every morning?” I ask, hungry for these fresh details about her.

“Once, I did it every day. Now, I try to do it most days . If I want to, that is.” There’s some pride in the addition, like the choice to break the daily habit was good for her—maybe for her soul?

“And I usually want to. It’s one of the little things in life, you know?

And it slows me down. Sometimes I want to do everything, all at once.

And yoga helps me take things one moment at a time,” she says, then blows out a breath. “And I’m rambling again.”

Like she did that night .

I have half a mind to tell her that her ramblings that night fed my dirty mind for days. For weeks. For the whole damn summer.

“I did ask,” I say, dryly.

She winces. “I might be nervous. Which is another thing yoga helps me with. So I will definitely be doing it here in this…Official Yoga Corner.”

“Want a plaque with that name on it?”

With a laugh, she says, “Yes please. Because this spot will be perfect for all my downward dogs.”

Do not think about her flexibility. Do not think about her arching her back and lifting her ass in the air.

But now that’s all I’m thinking about. Her stretching in bed at night, sliding under the covers, and then flinging them off in the morning before she pads into the living room and moves into a downward-facing dog. Stretching, and moaning, and swaying her hips.

I am the dog now because all I can think about is how fantastic it would be to walk in on her just like that.

I clear my throat. “I’m going to…” I pause, unable to find a fucking excuse for leaving before I think any more about the way she moves around this apartment. Finally, I wave a hand and say, “head upstairs.”

“Can I help out today?” she asks, stopping me on the way to the door. “Do you want me to pick up the kids from school?”

Surprised, I turn back. I figured she’d move in this afternoon. Get settled and jump into the frying pan tomorrow.

“You don’t need to…”

She smiles, but with a touch of desperation. “I want to be useful, Tyler. It won’t take me long to move in, and I’d really like to help. You’ve done so much for me.”

Hardly. But if she wants to start sooner rather than later, it makes sense.

“They’re out in an hour and a half. I have a team meeting, so it’d help a ton. Why don’t you come upstairs in a few, and I can give you all the details? I already put you on the pickup list, and I’ve told them they’re okay to come home with you.”

She smiles. “I’m so excited. ”

“Really?” I’m dazed at my luck and still a little amazed she wants to do this.

“Yes. Hello! I’m a skating coach and teacher. I like kids.”

And that’s what matters most. “I’ll see you in a few minutes then.”

When I’m nearly out the door, she calls, “Tyler?”

I turn back, wishing she weren’t so fucking pretty.

“The deal is the same, right?”

“What deal? You mean what I’m paying you? Of course. I’d never go back on that,” I say, a little shocked she’s asking.

“No, I mean the Night of a 1000 Confessions. We’re still not talking about it, right? Even though we kind of did today.”

Do I detect a note of mischief in her voice, as if she likes breaking the rules?

Well, I sure as hell fucking do.

I scratch my jaw and adopt a quizzical look. “Was it just one thousand, though? Almost seemed like it might’ve been one thousand and one.”

Her smile is too much, teasing and self-deprecating at once. “Please. It was one thousand and two.”

“So many confessions, Sabrina,” I say, even though I shouldn’t keep talking about it. But the look in her blue eyes, the tilt in her lips, the ease in her body—all relaxed. It’s hard not to keep going.

“I blame the margaritas,” she says, but then straightens her shoulders. “But it won’t happen again. I promise.”

Once more, I pick up what she’s putting down. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” I say, in a tone that makes it clear that once again I will play along.

“I don’t either,” she says.

And I wish she didn’t need to forget about it. I wish I didn’t, too, though it’s for the best for both of us.

But as I head upstairs, I’m flooded by memories. By her words. By the sound of her voice telling me how much she wants me.

I have this whole fantasy that starts with your beard. I keep thinking about how it’d feel. I keep wondering, too, about those arms. How you could pin me down…

Heat roars in me. Desire grips me too tightly. At the top of the steps, I grab the railing and close my eyes, as if I can will away the images.

But they come faster, like the words we said to each other in the hotel room as we inched dangerously closer. Like what I said when she told me about her ex and his mouth. I bet you’d enjoy it done properly.

Her reply? I bet I would too.

I breathe out roughly, fighting off my fantasies of the nanny.

Get it together , I tell myself before heading into my home, which feels far too close to hers.