Page 17 of Rising Heat

I’d seen her before she even rang the buzzer. Standing out front in that olive-green puffer, phone in one hand, shifting her weight like she was talking herself into staying. She’d looked at the flower boxes first, then the windows, then the front door. Smoothed her coat twice before she buzzed.

And instead of leaving it there, I’d handed her the key because she was gorgeous and because she’d looked at the apartment like it might let her breathe, and that second part is the part I’m not thinking about.

“You think she’s hot,” his jaw flexes.

I snort.

“Well, yeah.”

His face stays flat.

“Very,” I add.

Bright, piercing eyes that make you feel like she’s looking right through you and all your bullshit. A quick mouth that had me daydreaming about what it would feel like wrapped around my cock, and this soft curve to her that her coat had been doing its best to hide and failing miserably.

He exhales through his nose, slow and controlled. The same breath he takes before going into a burning building or considering punching me in the face.

“Ty.”

“What?”

“She’s our tenant.”

I lean back against the island.

“And?”

Mack just looks at me, and I know what he’s really saying. Not just don’t hook up with her, but don’t make me regret letting you have opinions.

My grin slips.

“She’s not like that.”

Mack lets out a humorless breath.

“You’ve known her for twelve hours.”

“More like…fourteen.”

“That’s not any better.”

“She’s cool.” I can hear myself.

I sound like an idiot, but I continue anyway.

“She noticed the flower boxes.”

That gets him, and probably because I’m talking about her like a person instead of a problem or a hookup. Mack’s mouth tightens at the corner with the expression that means he’s stopped dismissing whatever I’m saying and started decoding it instead.

I point.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“You’re…intrigued.”

“Wrong, I’m concerned that you let a stranger move into our house because she appreciated landscaping and you somehow find that hot.”