Page 58 of Chasing Hope

“What about the backup generator?” I ask.

Taking off his hat, Patrick scratches his tightly coiled gray hair. “I’ve been nagging the building to replace it for five months. That thing is on its last leg.”

“I’ll send an email to urge them along.”

He gives me a thankful smile. “Thank you, but I fear this storm will force their hands anyway.” Shooing us along, he urges, “Go on now, before it worsens.”

“Nice to meet you, Patrick!” Evie calls over her shoulder, her shoes squeaking with water.

“You too, dear.”

Hurrying Evie into the elevator, we watch as Patrick ambles behind the concierge desk, muttering to himself as the elevator doors close.

“He’s a sweetheart.”

“That he is,” I agree.

Evie peers at me out of the corner of her eye. “Trying to do his job for him?” she questions.

“He developed arthritis this past year. He isn’t as sturdy as he once was but he refuses to say no to people.”

“That’s sweet of you to notice and care,” she says as the elevator dings before opening on our level.

Shrugging off the compliment, I murmur, “It’s no big deal.”

Slotting the key into the lock, I let Evie step inside first, placing the sodden groceries on the kitchen island as yet another strike of lightning hits, illuminating the otherwise dark apartment.

Evie flinches at the following thunderous boom.

“Why don’t you take a shower first? Getwarm.”

Nodding, she bites her lip, looking outside at the black Denver sky. “Okay, I’ll be quick so you can shower after.”

I sound like a sick fuck but I love showering after her. The bathroom is always teeming with her scent, and I swear it’s the most heavenly thing I’ve ever smelled. A twisted thrill shoots down my spine knowing that in a short few minutes the bathroom will be filled with her fruity fragrance.

For now, I quickly duck out onto the patio, bringing in all the furniture that could fly away. I know I’ve made the right call when ten minutes later, I struggle to get the door closed through the violent gusts of wind.

Heaving out a breath once it’s firmly shut and locked, I run a hand through my wet hair, just as the lights above me flicker.

“Fuck,” I curse beneath my breath.

Rounding the kitchen, I get to work on what I can. Quickly washing my hands, I cut up a brown onion, boiling some water and salting it before pouring the pasta in. I’m about to start the sauce when the sound of Evie’s feet padding down the stairs have me craning my head over my shoulder.

My body coils tight, my hand white-knuckling the pan’s handle.

A blush crawls across her cheeks. “I hope you don’t mind. I tried searching my boxes for a sweater but couldn’t find one. I haven’t unpacked what the movers brought over, which thank you, by the way, for organizing someone to get all my belongings. I’ve been living out of the suitcase you packed because I haven’t needed anything warmer to wear.”

She’s babbling because she’s nervous.

Nervous because she’s wearingmyhoodie.

Evie is standing in my living room, wearing my hoodie.

I’ve never been more turned on in my life.

It swarms her, coming to rest along her tan thighs. My swallow is audible as I try to get a hold of my erratic heartbeat, but it’s impossible. Evie is standing in the middle ofmykitchen, wearingmyhoodie, and she looks sofuckinggood while doing so.

She looks so…right.