Page 80 of Fire in You

Having no idea what he was talking about, I stepped aside. “And what would that good deed be?”

Brock walked into my apartment, and as he passed me, he swooped down and kissed me before I could even process what he was doing. It was sweet and all too brief, but still left me standing there stunned.

“Kissing me was your good deed?” I finally asked, closing the door.

He looked over his shoulder at me. “I kind of like the way you think, but no. I’m here to put together your bookcases, because I’m sure you still haven’t done that since you mentioned buying them.”

“I haven’t,” I admitted. “You remembered that?”

Brock faced me. “I remember everything, Jilly.”

A shiver curled its way down my spine, and I looked away. “You seriously came over to put together my bookshelves?”

“Yep.” There was a pause. “And I wanted to see you.”

I peeked at him, unsure of what to say.

“I know I said I’d give you time,” he said after a moment.

“And this is you giving me time?”

“Yes.” That half-grin was back, doing funny things to my stomach. “So where are the bookshelves?”

“In the second bedroom down the hall.” Deciding that if he wanted to put the shelves together, he could have at it. I had no problem supervising.

AaandI was kind of, okay sort of, really interested to see him here.

“I’ll grab some drinks,” I offered, then pivoted around, hurrying off before I could change my mind and ask him to leave, even though I knew I wanted him to stay.

Gah. Sometimes I made no sense to myself. At all.

Once I had two bottles of water, I led him into the guest room. It was pretty barren. Just a narrow, single bed that was barely used, a desk in the corner, and a nightstand.

Brock didn’t comment on the lack of design as he walked toward the pieces of the shelving system. “Where’s your cat?”

“Probably in my bedroom, under the covers. That’s where he takes his afternoon naps.”

Brock laughed. “I like that cat.”

“Yeah, he likes you. Which is weird because that cat hates everyone.”

“Your cat has good taste.” He slid me a sidelong glance. “Then again, everyone likes me.”

“Ha. Ha.” I stared at his back and suspicion blossomed. “Did you talk to my mom today?”

“No.” His brows flew up. “Why? Should I have?”

I shook my head as I picked up the packet of hardware. Sitting on the bed, I watched him rummage through the boards. I liked how he was dressed, casual in jeans and a fitted thermal. My gaze got hung up on the clear definition of his chest and arms.

I started thinking.

Which probably was bad, but whatever.

Picking up the instructions, he sat on the left side of me, on the bed. “Well, this shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“It’s not. I’m just lazy.”

One side of his lips quirked up. “I’m surprised you don’t actually have any bookshelves overflowing with books, to be honest.”

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