Chapter 4:The unexpected guest.

Lydia's POV 

“Josh?” I said, my eyes still trying to narrow on the figure standing in the middle of my apartment.

Josh was a fling I had when Sebastian and I were having an issue, back when he took Isabelle and Jayden to Tuscany for a vacation and left me alone with too much anger and nowhere to put it. I had wanted to make him jealous, which was stupid because Sebastian wasn't even supposed to know about Josh, and Josh himself had never been anything more than a temporary distraction.

He was hot, though. Biceps, abs for days and fucking generous in bed, the kind of man who looked like he had been designed specifically to make bad decisions easier to justify. Unfortunately, whatever God had given him in the looks department, He had apparently forgotten to balance out upstairs.

“Hey, Lydia, baby.”

His face was completely flushed, and the words came out slightly slower than normal.

I stared at him.

“Are you drunk?”

The question barely left my mouth before I caught the sharp stench of alcohol hanging around his breath.

“No, not at all, baby,” he replied, trying so desperately to close his mouth that I almost laughed.

“You're drunk.”

“I'm relaxed.”

“You're drunk.”

“Okay, maybe a little.”

I sighed.

“What are you doing here?”

My eyes instinctively shifted toward the bedroom, where the package Sebastian had given me was safely tucked underneath my bed. I didn't know why I had hidden it there so quickly when Josh walked in, but something about having him see that box felt wrong.

Josh scratched the back of his head.

“Oh, you weren't in for a while, so I've been kinda, umm, staying here.”

My eyes narrowed.

How could somebody be this hot and yet this stupid?

Even in his dullard state, there was no denying what he looked like. His arms were bulging beneath the tan top he wore, the fabric stretched across his shoulders and chest as though it had been designed to test the limits of the shirt. Sweat glistened against his skin, rolling from one visible vein to another across his hands, and I hated that my eyes lingered long enough for me to notice.

I swallowed.

“Josh.”

“What?”

“You can't stay here. Go back to your apartment.”

His expression dropped immediately.

“I got let out of my apartment a few days ago.”

“You got what?”

“Let out.”

“That isn't how apartments work.”

“It is when you don't pay rent.”

I stared at him.

He looked completely serious.

“You're unbelievable.”

He shrugged, then used the edge of his shirt to open the bourbon bottle already sitting in his hand. The movement lifted the fabric just enough to expose the hard lines of his stomach.

My eyes betrayed me.

Rock solid abs, exactly like I remembered, beautifully carved by God Himself.

Another gulp went down my throat.

Josh noticed.

A slow grin spread across his face.

“You're staring.”

“I am not.”

“You definitely are.”

“I was looking at the bottle.”

“The bottle is down here.”

He pointed toward his stomach.

I rolled my eyes.

“Don't flatter yourself.”

“I wasn't.”

“You always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you're smarter than you are.”

He laughed, then dropped onto the couch like he had already been granted permanent residency.

I folded my arms.

“Josh, I'm serious. You can't just move into my apartment.”

“I'm not moving in.”

“You said you've been staying here.”

“Temporarily.”

“How temporary?”

He considered it.

“A week?”

“No.”

“Three days?”

“No.”

“Two?”

“Josh.”

“One?”

I stared at him.

He gave me a smile that was so ridiculously innocent that it almost worked.

Almost.

“You have somewhere else to go.”

“Not really.”

“Friends?”

“They're busy.”

“Family?”

“They hate me.”

“Your apartment?”

“Gone.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead.

This was exactly how Josh operated. He could walk into a disaster, smile at it and somehow convince someone else to clean up the mess.

“I can't believe I'm even having this conversation.”

“You're considering it.”

“I am not.”

“You haven't told me to leave in the last thirty seconds.”

“That is because I'm trying to figure out how to say it without feeling guilty.”

“See?”

“That isn't a yes.”

“But it's not a no.”

I hated that he had a point.

I glanced around the apartment, then back at him.

“Fine.”

His entire face brightened.

“For one week.”

“One week?”

“Seven days.”

“That's perfect.”

“You sleep on the couch.”

His smile faltered.

“The couch?”

“Yes.”

“Lydia.”

“The couch.”

He looked down at the couch like he had only just discovered how uncomfortable it was.

“And you pull your weight.”

“I can do that.”

“Cleaning. Groceries. Whatever needs doing.”

“I can absolutely do that.”

“You're cooking too.”

His confidence disappeared.

“I don't cook.”

“Then learn.”

He nodded solemnly.

“I'll learn.”

“And no bringing people here.”

His eyebrows rose.

“People?”

“Don't play stupid.”

“I wouldn't.”

“You just admitted you were drunk.”

“That's different.”

“Josh.”

“Fine. No people.”

I watched him carefully.

“One week.”

“One week,” he repeated.

“And if you break any of those rules, you're gone.”

He raised his right hand like he was taking an oath.

“I promise.”

I shook my head, already regretting the decision.

Josh suddenly leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against my cheek.

“Thank you.”

I froze.

Heat rushed across my face so quickly that I was certain he could see it.

“Josh!”

He laughed as he leaned back.

“What?”

“Don't do that.”

“You said I could stay.”

“I said you could stay. I didn't say you could start acting like we're seventeen.”

He grinned.

“Got it.”

I touched my cheek without thinking, then immediately dropped my hand when I realized what I was doing.

“You're impossible.”

“And yet you let me stay.”

“Don't make me change my mind.”

He zipped his lips.

For once, he actually listened.

I turned toward the kitchen, deciding I needed something to occupy my hands before I embarrassed myself any further.

Behind me, I heard him open the bourbon again.

“Josh.”

“What?”

“You're already breaking the rules.”

“I haven't even finished the first bottle.”

I closed my eyes.

“One week,” I reminded myself.

Just one week.

That was manageable.

It had to be.

But as I walked toward the kitchen, my mind drifted somewhere it had no business going.

Tomorrow.

The dinner.

Isabelle would be there.

Jayden would probably be there too.

And Sebastian.

My stomach tightened at the thought.

I had spent the entire day trying not to think about him, and somehow the closer tomorrow got, the harder it became to pretend I didn't care.

I would have to sit across from him, smile when he smiled, act normal when he looked at me, and pretend I didn't remember what his voice sounded like when we were alone.

Pretend I didn't want him.

Pretend being close to him didn't make every carefully built wall inside me feel dangerously thin.

Tomorrow night, Sebastian would be right there, close enough to touch and yet farther away from me than he'd ever been.

And I had to pretend not to want him.