“Oh. Right. Sorry.”
I finally remember how doors work and turn the knob now that he’s unlocked it.
Then I walk backwards, unable to break his gaze.
This man is looking at me–at me, a chubby little redheaded schoolteacher—like I’m Mata Hari.
And I am so here for it.
I mean, my best friend is currently living her best life being worshipped by a man who is actually identical to this one—though I see more differences every second I’m with him.
I mean, Kai’s jaw is more angular. His eyes are more hazelnut than espresso. His hair is more black than brown. And his smile is softer and wider.
Okay—I sound crazy.
Whatever.
Right now, I am crazy—for him.
The moment we step inside, the house settles around us.
Quiet.
Familiar.
And somehow that makes me even more nervous.
“Nice place,” Kai says.
“Don't judge.”
His eyebrows rise.
“I wasn't.”
“Everybody judges people who live with their mothers.”
“Firecracker, I punched a councilman in a church hallway. I am the last person qualified to judge anybody.”
I laugh despite myself.
“Fair.”
He follows me through the kitchen.
Past the family room.
Toward the stairs leading down to the renovated basement apartment.
My apartment.
Or at least the closest thing I've ever had to one.
The closer we get, the faster my pulse becomes.
“This feels weird,” I admit.
“Yeah?”