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“Anyway, I’d love to come visit again soon,” she said.

“Anytime.”

Dread filled me at the thought of Nat coming here to make a play for Rafe.

I had absolutely no right to that thought and, yes, it probably meant I was a terrible person. But I apparently had little control over my thoughts and feelings, despite understanding right from wrong.

We chatted for a bit before Nat went to go find something to eat. After the phone call, I forced my mind to the task at hand: laundry. I filled the washer and stayed while it ran. Then I’d go upstairs after putting it in the dryer.

As I listened to the whooshing sound of the washing machine, I closed my eyes and tried to center myself. What was I going to make for dinner tonight? It needed to be something special to mark Calder’s first day at the new job. Or maybe I’d suggest we go out to celebrate, depending on how drained he was.

After the wash finished, I opened the dryer and found a completed load still in there. I took it out, started my load drying, and began folding, only to realize I had a pile of Rafe’s shirts and pants. So much for forgetting about my secret crush. I cringed. If ever I needed to get over something, this weird crush on Rafe was at the top of the list.

I packed his clothes into my bag and figured I’d drop them off on my way upstairs. When I got to his door, as expected, it was open. But what wasn’t expected was the sight of Rafe, shirtless and doing pull-ups. He gripped a bar that had been affixed to the doorway of his bedroom. The sight of his muscles tightening beneath his shimmering skin should have been illegal.

I didn’t want him to see me this time, so I quietly dropped the laundry just inside the door and rushed upstairs. I’d get the bag back later.

CHAPTER 3

How the heck do people do this?

A few days later, I walked around the apartment one more time, searching for something I could use to carry groceries home. The biggest bag I had was a straw beach tote, and that wouldn’t hold a fraction of what I needed. Calder and I hadn’t stocked the apartment yet, and we needed a lot of big things that were hard to carry—laundry detergent, milk, paper towels... My shopping list probably had fifty items on it. I’d hoped we could go together over the weekend, but it turned out Calder had needed to go into the office all day Saturday and half of Sunday. By the time he was finally free, I felt bad asking him to do anything. He’d been so stressed the past few days.

A search revealed that the closest supermarket was six blocks away, and I really missed the convenience of having my car in the driveway. I supposed I’d just have to pick up as much as I could and then go back again later or tomorrow. Maybe in the future, I could get stuff delivered.

The brownstone stairs creaked under my feet as I started down, and my pace slowed as I reached the second-floor landing, unintentionally of course. Like always, Rafe’s door was open. I’d learned he kept it that way so he could hear his aunt downstairs if she needed anything. I hadn’t seen him since the pull-up-bar incident on Friday, which was probably for the best, considering the way my brain now replayed the image of his back muscles flexing every time I closed my eyes. Keeping my distance felt like the smart move, yet I couldn’t stop myself from glancing inside as I passed his doorway.

No Rafe. A strange mix of relief and disappointment tugged at me, and I picked up speed before I could analyze why. But when I reached the first floor, the front door swung open, and I walked straight into the man who had taken up residence in my mind.

Rafe was shirtless, his chest glistening with each rise and fall. A dark T-shirt had been tucked into the waistband of his shorts, and he wore running sneakers. For a second, neither of us moved. Then he popped an AirPod from his ear and smiled, pushing damp hair off his forehead.

“Well,” he said, slightly breathless. “Look who it is.”

My eyes dropped before I could stop them—taking in his broad shoulders, tracing down the long line of his torso, following the sexy trail of hair that ran from his belly button into his shorts—and then snapped back up.

“Just going to the store,” I said, lifting the beach tote on my arm like I needed to show proof.

Rafe’s mouth twitched. “Only picking up a few things then?”

“Actually,” I said. “I need a ton of stuff.”

“Well, that bag isn’t going to cut it. You want to borrow my aunt’s granny cart?”

“Her what?”

He smiled. “Hang on.”

Rafe disappeared into his aunt’s apartment for a minute and came back wheeling a metal cart with two rubber wheels and a deep wire basket.

I blinked at it. “You’re kidding?”

“Not even a little,” he said. “This thing’s been on more grocery runs than most people in Brooklyn.”

“I’ve only seen those on TV. Usually pulled by old ladies wearing pink rollers in their hair.”

“Well, you’re gonna see them a lot around here. Half the neighborhood uses them.”

“Is that how you go shopping?”