Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
JAY
My brain turns the fuck off before I’m able to process my options. Option A: say something witty and charming. Or Option B: stand here gaping while the blood in my brain diverts entirely to my lower half. Right now, I’m going with option B.
For a moment, I can’t remember my own last name.
Nadia drops to her knees to start gathering up her scattered shit, and I realize I’m staring and need to get my ass into gear.
But then Salty starts his signature “I need to pee right the fuck now, and I have to find the perfect blade of grass, NOW!” shuffle, a routine that always ends with him sniffing his way across the green lawn for several minutes before he decides on the same fucking spot he uses every evening at this time.
“Can I help?” I blurt, which is ridiculous since I’m clearly not helping.
She looks up, eyes squinting with the effort of trying not to laugh at me. “I think I’ve got it,” she says with humor shining in her eyes.
Salty is winding the leash around my legs, prepping for his business.
“You’re sure?” I ask, watching her corral an avalanche of brightly colored markers.
She glances up at me through her lashes, with her heart-shaped face tilted and her lips quirking with mischief.
The afternoon sun catches on her wild blonde curls, and every gold strand glows.
Fuck, she’s pretty.
Not just pretty. Knockout fucking gorgeous. Her huge blue eyes are framed by thick dark lashes. There’s a little scar near her right eyebrow that draws my attention. I want to kiss that little white line more than I want my next breath.
My gaze drags over her curves as she leans over to grab a plastic toy. My hands itch to touch her. My mouth dries.
Her platinum hair is falling out of the bun in wild ringlets. There’s something weirdly hypnotic about watching her reach for a notebook. My brain finally kicks into gear, and I pull my head out of my ass. I kneel next to her to help gather all the shit.
I’m putting the last blue pen in the tote when Salty tugs on the leash, letting me know I’ve run out of time.
Either I take him to his favorite grass blade, or he’ll pee on my goddamn shoes.
Tension flows through me at the thought of letting this gorgeous woman get away.
“Do you live in the building?” I need to know what I’m working with here.
The band around my chest eases a little when she nods her head. “I just moved in.”
“If you give me two minutes to let this little tyrant handle his business, I can help you get those bags up to your apartment. Looks like you’re hauling a semester’s worth of supplies.”
Nadia glances at the dog, then back at me. She tilts her head, assessing, as if she’s trying to decide if I’m trustworthy.
That’s honestly fair.
“I’d love a little help getting all this upstairs.
” She blows a little strand of hair out of her face.
I help lug her bags over to one of the benches lining the walkway.
The moment she sits, she sort of melts as I place her totes next to her.
Her head tips back, and she closes her eyes, just for a second. Fuck. She’s beautiful.
Even bone-tired and slumped on a bench, hair wild and sticking out in every direction, she looks like a pin-up angel sent to earth to tempt me.
Her pouty lips are parted, and the pale column of her throat is exposed as she tips her head back.
It takes everything in me not to lean in and trace that tiny scar near her eyebrow with my thumb.
My brain short-circuits.
Salty drags on the leash harder, utterly determined to find the one patch of grass that meets his exacting standards. “I’ll be right back,” I mutter to Nadia as the little dictator drags me over to the area of the lawn designated for “pet business area.”
Once he’s done, I do my neighborly duty—bag everything up and toss it in the trash—before heading back to Nadia.
When I step close, she pulls a little bottle of hand sanitizer out of her purse and hands it to me. “You might need this.”
“Thank you.” I smile and squirt some in my hand before giving it back to her. “You do come prepared.”
“Always.” She laughs as I pick up her bags and wince at the weight.
“Are you ready?” I ask, and she stands up.
Our arms brush. My pulse triples when her delicate scent reaches my nose.
She smells like fresh laundry mixed with something sweet, maybe lavender.
My cock actually twitches. I am not proud of this, but I am about two seconds from embarrassing myself in the lobby of #1 Love Place.
I have to focus, or I’ll drop her tote bags and do something insane like kiss her right here.
“Lead the way.” She falls into step next to me, and we walk side by side while Salty zooms around our ankles, tangling his leash.
I carry all her bags in one arm, and her shoulder brushes mine with every step, sending little zaps straight through my suit and into my bloodstream.
I want her. I want to press her against the wall and taste her, right here in the mirrored foyer.
The elevator dings, and we step inside. She presses the button for the third floor. Her hands are small, fingernails short and painted a pale pink. Fuck, even her hands are sexy.
She glances up at me, blue eyes all sharp and curious. “Do you live in the building, too?” she asks.
“I live on the sixth floor,” I tell her as Salty sniffs his way around the elevator.
The elevator dings at three, and we step out into the hallway. Nadia leads the way, glancing over her shoulder. Her stride is shorter than mine, but she moves with determination.
She stops at 3H and reaches for one of the totes I’m holding to grab her keycard, and our hands touch again.
Static zings between our fingers, and her eyes flick up to meet mine.
For one beat, I think about kissing her.
I imagine cupping the back of her neck, feeling those wild curls against my palm, tasting her exhaustion and her laughter and the hundred-watt hum of her.
But I don’t. I know I need to take things slow if I’m going to convince this gorgeous woman to give me the time of day.
We step into her small studio apartment, and I hand her the totes before stepping back to give her space. “Here you go,” I say, a little too softly.
She leans against the breakfast bar. “Thanks for the rescue.”
I rub the back of my neck, suddenly clueless. “Anytime. Really.” Great, now I’m just fucking awkward.
She looks at me for a long moment, like she’s searching for something in my face.
“Have a good night, Jay.” She reaches down to give Salty a little pat on the head, and my fucking dog eats the attention up.
The little shit rolls over onto his back and literally groans when she gently rubs his belly.
“You have a good night, too, Salty,” she croons, and my fucking cock turns to stone in my pants. Fucker. She isn’t talking to you.
“Goodnight.” I have to practically drag my dog out the door. Little traitor.
She closes the door behind us, and I hear the click of the lock. Salty and I stand there for a second. He looks up at me, like, “You gonna stare at that door all night, Romeo?”
Maybe I will.
We make our way to my apartment, and I replay every second of the encounter: the smell of her, the accidental touches, the curve of her mouth when she said my name. There’s an itch in my chest that won’t go away.
I need to see her again. Tomorrow would be nice. Tonight would be better.
But I can wait. I don’t want to rush this, whatever this is, and scare her off.
I barely sleep. The kind of night where you keep rewinding the same thirty seconds of memory, trying to find new angles, like maybe this time the outcome will change.
Instead, the instant replay of Nadia’s laugh, the scrape of her voice, the way her hair blew around her gorgeous face while she wrangled her bags, circles my brain in a continuous loop.
And the crazy thoughts keep multiplying like a virus.
Not even Salty’s snoring can drown it out.
By morning, I am a man with a mission. I knock out emails in record time, field a call from a client who clearly has no idea what the fuck he wants, and set up a new security cam array for a paranoid plastic surgeon on the outskirts of town.
Normally, my brain would be engaged, running a dozen silent diagnostics, checking and cross-checking with military precision.
Today? My mind keeps wandering to the third floor. To 3H. To the stunning woman who already occupies every ounce of brain power I possess.
At 4:25, I finally admit defeat. No way I'm getting any work done at this point.
Across the room, Salty is already gearing up for his evening walk, pacing tight circles in front of the door, sniffing at the crack like he's starved for fresh air, never mind the fact that I took him out just a few hours ago.
Classic. Of all the animals in this building, my dog is without question the most spoiled, the most pampered—the undisputed king of routine.
As the owner of Vale Security Solutions, I make my own schedule.
I try to work from home at least three, sometimes four days a week.
Plus, on the days I head into the office, I pay a dog sitter to swing by and take Salty for his afternoon trek.
The little shit has a better daily schedule than I do.
We hit the lobby, and I can feel my heart pounding in anticipation. Salty drags me out front like he knows exactly what’s about to happen, and I don’t even bother pretending this is just a normal dog walk. We both know the truth—I’m hunting for her.