Page 36 of Close Knit

Of course, it’s him.

I turn. He’s standing with the rest of my boxes stacked like a Jenga tower in his strong, hefty arms. The soft hallway light illuminates his chiseled, brooding features. His dark hair is tousled in a perfect just-rolled-out-of-bed look.

My cheeks burn, the same way they did when he burst into my apartment like a sexy, heroic exterminator. Must my body betray me so cruelly? He’s just a man! A handsome, grunting man with a voice that raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

And he’s wearing that gold hoop in his ear again.

Must he do that when I’m fuming at him?

Are his deep brown eyes swirling with that familiar mix of mischief and sadness? I can’t tell, and it doesn’t matter. The last thing I need to be doing is trying to figure out what any of his looks or actions or sexy half-smiles mean.

“Shouldn’t you already be hiding out in your apartment? It’s after nine,” I blurt out before realizing my mistake.

“Keeping tabs on me?”

“No. Of course not. Just surprised to see you lurking at this hour,” I retort, trying to regain some composure. I fail.Miserably. “What are you doing with my stuff?” I attempt to change the subject as I climb up to our floor.

“I’m only trying to get up the stairs.”

“So you decided to steal my boxes and follow me up here?”

“Don’t know if you forgot, but we are neighbors. If you don’t want me to help you carry these, then I’ll walk them downstairs, and you can bring them back up yourself.” His tone is annoyingly calm, but the way his brows lift tells me he’s enjoying this.

“Fine, but don’t think for a second this means you’re off the hook. You still owe me an apology for being a complete jerk the other day.” He climbs another stair, gets closer, and cocks his head before letting out one of his signature grunts. That rumbling sound makes my blood boil with vexation. “Seriously?”

He tilts his head, still silent. Immature and ridiculous. I want to crack him open and see the guy I was with in San Francisco, not this statue.No, Daphne.He’s not a flawed stitch I can mend.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. About you.Why did he have to tell me that? Why turn everything between us into such a confusing mess?

“You know what? Take my boxes. Throw them down the stairs, or take them to your apartment and burn them! You can add Package Thiefto your résumé, right below Spider Exterminator, Stalker Accuser, Premier League Soccer Jerkface, and Man with That Sexy Gold Hoop Earring,” I babble out in frustration.

Ugh. I know how to manage my emotions, but with Cameron Hastings, I feel so out of control.

“Sexy?” His mouth quirks to the side.

He gives methatlook again. The smoldering, I’m-too-cool-for-this look. My body instantly melts like a popsicle in July. Traitor! Why does this meathead act totally work on me? Whatprimal cavewoman switch gets flipped in my brain when he does this?

“The hoop is doing all the heavy lifting.”

“That so?” He steps closer. A familiar, sexy wickedness flashes into his eyes. “Want to try it on?”

“Oh, please. If I wanted to accessorize, I’d wear something that doesn’t scream pirate wannabe.”

“Pirate wannabe?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’ve got quite the comebacks, Daphne.” The way he says my name makes the tendrils in my stomach tighten.

“And you’ve got quite the ego, Cameron.” I try to look unimpressed.

“Look, I’m—”

“Don’tlookme. You’re hot and cold, up and down, and it’s exhausting. One minute you’re helping me, the next you’re accusing me of stalking you.”

He takes a deep breath, gaze softening. “Maybe I’m just trying to figure things out.”

The words snap some sense into me. I don’t want to be collateral for some gorgeous man who can’t vocalize his feelings.

“I thought there was nousto figure out.” I sigh. “Please just leave my boxes here. I’ll get them later.”

I whirl around to storm up to my apartment, but my slipper slides along the tile, causing me to lose my balance. The large box in my arms collapses to the floor. In one swift motion, Cameron drops my packages onto the landing and tries to steady me, placing his hands on my shoulders. We end up losing our balance, stumbling backward as we struggle on the staircase. We slide down four stairs before coming to a stop on the landing, my back pressed against the wall. He steadies me, his six-foot-plus frame towering over me.

---