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“Huh?”

“Give me your phone.” He doesn’t give any explanation and yet, I hand over my phone without a second thought. He peeks up at me and smirks as I watch him type something in before he hands it back to me as his phone goes off in his pocket.

“My number is in there now. Call or text me if you need anything, okay?”

I slowly nod. “Um…okay.”

“I’m serious. It’s my fault that you’re gonna be laid up for a few days so call me when you need absolutely anything. I live right next door so it’s not a problem.”

I nod, knowing damn well that I’m not going to do that. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Although, I can’t say that I’m all that disappointed about having his number. How have I never noticed him before? Have I really been that closed off to the world? He takes a step toward me, and I suck in a quiet breath. He’s so close now. I could just lean forward and press my lips against his. If I just wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into me, I could steal the kiss I’ve been daydreaming about for the last five minutes.

“Say it, Ali. Say you’ll give me a call if you need anything.” His voice is velvet smooth, and I feel a bit hypnotized as I stare up at him and nod.

“I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Good,” he whispers, leaning in instead of pulling away like I expected him to. Almost like he’s having trouble fighting this, too. I know this is insane because I literally just met him but there’s something about him that just gets to me. His eyes meet mine, and we freeze, his face hovering an inch above mine as his minty breath washes over me, and it’s a struggle to keep my eyes open. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss someone this badly in my entire life. I start to lean forward, and he follows suit, his lips barely brushing against mine as my body sparks to life from the simple touch.

“Ali!” Izzy’s voice breaks through the sexual tension filling the room, and Storm pulls back sharply, like he’s waking up from a dream, and just like before, his face shuts down. There is absolutely no emotion on his face when he looks up at me again, and it breaks my heart. No. I want the man that was just looking at me like I was his last supper back. I can’t remember the last time I felt that desired in my entire life, and I hate that we were interrupted.

“Who in the name of sex are you?” Izzy asks after stepping into the kitchen, and I start laughing, unable to help myself as Storm’s eyes widen. He drops his gaze to the floor and blows a breath out before running his hand through his hair and looking back up at me.

“I gotta go. You’ve got my number.” Without waiting for a response, he stomps out of the room, and Bear follows behind him. The front door slams closed, and I look to Izzy, whose gaze is roaming all over the countertop. She walks over to me and picks up my shredded thigh high, holding it out in front of me.

“Oh, Lucy, you got some splainin’ to do,” she sings, and I start laughing again, falling back onto the counter with a sigh.

* * * *

“Food’s here,” Carly calls as she opens the front door and walks in. I wave at her from the couch, unable to get up with my bum knee. Before Izzy left, she made me tell her everything that happened with my neighbor and insisted that I elevate my knee. Carly’s mouth pops open when she catches sight of my knee propped up on a couple pillows and the crutches leaning up against the couch next to me.

“Holy hell, your knee is the size of a softball!”

“Yeah, I know. I got mauled by the neighbor’s Labrador.”

She rushes over to the couch and throws the bag of food and her purse down on the coffee table before sitting next to me, trying to examine my knee.

“Shit, are you okay? We should call Izzy. Maybe she can get one of the lawyers in her office to sue the shit out of the guy.”

“No, it was an accident. Bear’s still a puppy, and he just wanted some attention. I’m sure I’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

She studies me for a second before smirking and reaching for the bag of food. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the man in your kitchen that Izzy described as ‘hot as the devil himself’, would it?”

I scoff, looking away, because truthfully, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Storm since he left my house earlier today. “No.”

“Uh-huh,” she hums, not buying an ounce of my shit. She hands me my box of food and a plastic fork before relaxing back into the couch with me.

“What are you looking at?” she asks, eyeing my computer screen.

“I got offered a job.”

Her eyes widen for a second before a huge smile stretches across her face. “Seriously? When?”

“Literally two minutes after you left the coffee shop. She overheard us talking and offered me a position as an advice columnist.”

“For what?” she asks around a bite of food.

“This blog called Champagne Dreaming. Mercedes is the daughter of Charles Richmond, and she runs it. I’ve been researching it all day.” I start showing her stuff on the website as we eat, and by the time we’re done, she’s urging me to take the job.

“Seriously, you have to take it. It sounds amazing. Why wouldn’t you?”