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I move quickly toward the nightstand and bend to grab it.

“I’ve got it.” Bishop’s voice comes out so sharp I freeze.

I look up at him over my shoulder. “What?”

“I’ve said I’ve got it.” He grinds his teeth, his whole body tense.

“Why are you acting weird?” I know he’s mad, but holy cow, it’s just a cat, and I’m only trying to help. Nothing is even broken.

“I’m not acting weird.”

Now he’s acting defensive.

“You are.” I toss back at him.

His hands flex as he crouches, picks up the clock Darcy knocked over, and sets it back on the nightstand.

When he straightens, his eyes are very deliberately fixed on my face.

Oh!

Ohhhhhhh!

Heat rushes up my neck, and I stand up, tugging my tee down again. I’m sure when I bent over, I gave him a show he didn’t want to see.

His gaze follows the movement before snapping right back up.

“I’m just tired.” He shrugs out of his jacket and adds it to the growing pile. “Long travel day.”

If he keeps losing layers, this blush is going to get way worse.

“Sorry.”

“And there’s a cat in my bed.”

“I said sorry; we’re going.” I scoop Darcy up from the side of the bed opposite Bishop, so he can’t see my shirt riding up on my hips.

He clears his throat and turns around to busy himself with the pile of clothes on the chair.

I turn toward the hallway, take two steps, and freeze, realizing my back is to the dresser mirror. And therefore my backside was still on display, courtesy of the said mirror.

Ground, please swallow me up.

“Pants.” He calls after me.

I look over my shoulder to find him now watching me again.

His gaze drops. Not all the way, but just enough. Then those blue eyes come back to mind, and one eyebrow lifts.

My eyes dart down quickly, examining myself, then back at him, narrowing my eyes. “You came home early. This is what happens when you wake someone from a dead sleep.”

“Still my apartment.”

“Then next time call or text first.”

“Before entering my own home?”

I nod. “Exactly.”