I kick the door fully open, aiming the Glock. What I see overloads my brain. It’s like the world is ending and I only have two bullets, but there are five zombies after me.
Some guy is hogtied with a rope, a big piece of duct tape over his mouth. That explains the muzzled screams. Meanwhile, Noah is sitting on the floor with his long, muscled legs stretched out, ankles crossed, scarfing down half an apple pie on a blue Disney Cinderella plate, which means he grabbed it from my kitchen.
And that pie must be the one I made last night and was saving for the weekend.
Noah smiles. “Hi, Bobbi.” His gray eyes crinkle, like he couldn’t be happier to see me.
I hate it that he’s still heartbreakingly beautiful. And I loathe it that my hormones are perking up, and something inside me wants me to preen.
Hell, no. Have some self-respect!
Señor Mittens hisses at Noah. Even my cat has more dignity than me. Of course, he doesn’t like any of my friends, either.
I lower the gun. “If this were Texas, I’d’ve shot you.”
“Thank God we’re in civilized California.” Noah’s smile widens, annoyingly charming.
Maybe I should just shoot him and claim self-defense—he tried to attack me with his fork, officer!
“This is agreatpie. You’re an even better cook now.”
His compliment only pours gasoline on my temper. “You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?” I say, shoving the gun into my waistband.
“Don’t just think it. I know it.” He gazes at me softly. “I love you, my light.”
I inhale sharply at the easy way he says “I love you.” The fact that I want him to mean it makes me feel pathetic and even more furious. How is it that he can still manipulate my emotions? He has a unique ability to make me feel so good and so bad at the same time.
“I even nabbed this guy for you. He says he knows you, but he was trying to break in through a window.”
“And you helped him inside?”
“Well…yeah. But afterward I tied him up. As a peace offering. You might know him. Lorcan Duncan?” Noah’s tone is sweet and understanding.I knew you were slumming while I was away. I get it. I’m here to save you from your own poor judgment.
I glare at the piece of shit on the floor. He’s trying to get free of the ropes, but not having much success. I should’ve known it was a bad idea to try to date some random dude named Lorcan Duncan of all things, even if the dating app did swear that it could match me up with the other half of my soul.
Unfortunately, the app didn’t promise the guy would have a brain. I’m convinced Lorcan doesn’t because I’ve never met a dumber guy.
But God gave him plenty of perseverance. Not only does he not understand the meaning of “no,” he apparently doesn’t give up. Noah witnessing my date-shame only makes me want to scream. I’d bet my bakery he’s been with some hot chicks in the last twelve months. Women are always eye-fucking him. My arms around him didn’t stop them before, and without that, forget it. They would’ve been rubbing themselves all over him like cats in heat.
“Leave. Now. And take out the trash when you go.”
Noah doesn’t point out that Lorcan ismytrash. “Okay.”
His tone is agreeable. But I know the truth. He’s just playing with me. When he’s done, he always leaves without a backward glance, then after a while, he checks up on me, like a child remembering a toy he discarded in a corner of his room. I didn’t realize that when we first met because I was in a weird headspace after my dad’s death. Then Noah came back only after I got shot, thanks to an idiot client who was trying to stage an attack against herself for social media cred.
And now he’s back again, when Lorcan was trying to break into my house. Un-fucking-believable!
“You’re bad news. Don’t ever come back,” I say. “And stop eating my pie!”
“Come on. Don’t be so hard on me.” He stands up.
I glare at him. “Not even my cat likes you.”
“So if he likes me, will you give me a chance?”
“Ha! He’d eat raw broccoli first.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” he says, all sweet and charming.
