Chapter 5

Erica’s POV

I was still standing there, mouth slightly open, staring at him like an idiot, when I realized he'd said something else. Words. Actual words, apparently, that had come out of that perfect mouth while I'd been too busy cataloguing his jawline to register a single syllable of them.

"…sorry, what?"

He grinned wider, clearly delighted by my malfunction. "I said, you can take a picture if you want. It'll last longer."

Oh. He was one of those.

That snapped me right out of whatever trance I'd fallen into. I crossed my arms, narrowed my eyes, and gave him my best don't-test-me stare - the one I usually reserved for mothers-of-the-bride who thought they could renegotiate my contract mid-ceremony.

"Who are you?"

"Maverick!" Heather's voice rang out behind me before he could answer, and she came bounding up the hallway like she'd been waiting all morning for this exact doorbell. "Oh my god, thank you so much for coming this fast, you're a literal lifesaver."

I blinked. "You two know each other?"

Neither of them answered me. Heather just breezed past like I hadn't spoken at all, grabbed the man's hand - his actual hands, like they were old friends, like this wasn't the single most confusing thing I'd witnessed in the last twenty-four hours, and that was saying something - and started tugging him toward her bedroom.

"My bed stand's been wobbling for a week," she called over her shoulder. "Screw came loose. This is our next-door neighbor, by the way - he offered to fix it."

And then, with zero further explanation, both of them vanished into her room and shut the door.

I stood there in my own hallway, genuinely stunned into silence.

Next door neighbor.

Wait.

Next door neighbor.

As in… the metal guy? The grinding, screeching, no-regard-for-anyone's-sleep-schedule menace I had personally sworn vengeance against not eighteen hours ago? That neighbor?

Heather and I had spent multiple nights plotting gruesome and violent fates for this man. I distinctly remembered saying I'd bury him somewhere on his own property with his own power tools as the murder weapon. Heather - who, admittedly, could sleep through a full-scale demolition and therefore had less personal stake in it - had still agreed, out of pure solidarity, to help me hide the body.

And now she was in her bedroom with him. Alone. Door shut. Fixing a screw, apparently, with so much enthusiasm for something that should have taken ninety seconds and a screwdriver.

I told myself I wasn't going to eavesdrop.

I was absolutely eavesdropping before I could stop myself.

I quietly walked down the hallway and pressed myself against her door, ear tilted, holding my breath like that would somehow improve my hearing. There was a groan. A low, effortful, unmistakably male groan. Then a soft sigh from Heather. Then another groan.

My stomach dropped straight through the floor.

Were they… were they making out in there?!

Over a bed stand? Within minutes of meeting at my front door… no, wait, Heather clearly already knew him, this wasn't even a meeting, this was… what even was this…

I leaned in closer, scandalized and helplessly curious in equal measure. I needed to hear everything, down to the last tea. But the moment I pressed myself further into the door, it quickly swung open.

I had no time to catch myself. I pitched forward, already bracing for the humiliating impact of landing heavily on the floor, when a pair of very strong arms closed around me instead, catching me clean out of my fall like it cost him no effort at all.

I looked up.

Sea green eyes. Up close, they were even more unfair than they'd been from ten feet away on my porch.

"Careful," Maverick said, not remotely bothering to hide his amusement. "You know, if you wanted a hug, you could've just asked."

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

"Do I take your breath away?" He tilted his head, entirely too pleased with himself. "Because you haven't managed a full sentence since you laid eyes on me. I'm starting to think it's a medical condition."

It was Heather's laugh - a delighted cackle from somewhere behind him - that finally snapped me back into my own body. I scrambled upright, shoving both hands against his chest to put actual distance between us, my face on fire for reasons I refused to examine too closely.

"Who are you," I managed, finally, "and what are you doing in my house?"

Maverick raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this far more than the situation warranted. "Your friend already told you who I am. Or were you too starstruck to catch that too?"

That was it. That was the last straw on a day that had already handed me a coffee-drenched billionaire, a boardroom firing, and now apparently a man groaning behind my best friend's closed door over furniture repairs.

"Okay, out." I pointed at the front door, voice climbing with every word. "I don't know you, I didn't invite you, and I would like you to leave my house right now."

"Erica." Heather actually gasped. "That's so rude."

"I don't care." I turned on her, arms crossed so tight I could feel my own heartbeat in them. "I don't want him in my house. I want him gone. Right now."

I was aware, somewhere in the back of my mind, that I sounded slightly unhinged. I did not care. Between Malcolm and the coffee and the boardroom and now this, I had officially reached my limit for handsome men ruining my composure in a single twenty-four hour period.

Maverick held both hands up in mock surrender, the grin never once leaving his face, like my hysteria was simply the most entertaining thing that had happened to him all week. "Alright, alright. Message received, loud and clear."

He gave Heather a small, easy salute, shot me one last infuriatingly amused look, and let himself out.

I slammed the door behind him with more force than was strictly necessary, and honestly, it felt fantastic.

Heather shook her head slowly, watching me with an expression somewhere between disbelief and pity.

"You know," she said, "you could've used that opportunity to actually talk to him about the noise, instead of chasing him off the property like a woman possessed." She sighed, heading back toward the kitchen. "Now how exactly do you plan on sleeping tonight?"

I opened my mouth to argue.

I had absolutely nothing.