Page 45 of Single Chance

“You’re the boss of marketing things, and apparently I have to do marketing things.”

His smile faded. “You don’t want to do marketing?”

“It’s fine, Chance. That’s not the point here.”

“Right. The point is that you need a place to live. I have lots of room.”

I tried to think of the shit ton of ramifications living here would have. His daughter. Our coworkers. The town gossip train.Us.

No, not us. We weren’t anus.

“That sounds like it could cause all kinds of problems,” I said.

He let out a sardonic chuckle. “You mean more problems than having a baby together after a one-night fling in a small town will cause?”

I had to laugh along with him. If I didn’t, I’d cry. “Good point. But what’s your daughter going to say?”

“I’d like to think she would be on board with helping out one of my coworkers.”

“Or your underlings,” I said.

“Rowan, stop. Rusty Anchor isn’t like that. It’s too small. We’re more like a work family than a corporation with a strict hierarchy.”

“I know,” I allowed.

I tried to imagine sleeping across the hall from this man. This man who taunted my thoughts, as it was, when I was sleeping alone in my safe little room at the inn.

“How would that work exactly?” I asked.

“You’d move your belongings into this room”—he slapped the doorframe—“and anywhere else you want. I don’t know. You can hole up in your room if you want to, or you can make yourself at home in the rest of the house. It’s a big house for three people.”

I frowned as I thought through the idea. Would I ever feel comfortable curling up in his living room to read a book? Bingeing reality TV in his family room? Cooking my dinner in his kitchen?

“I’m looking at a place tomorrow,” I told him.

“What place?”

“It’s a garage apartment on”—I pulled my phone out to look up the street name—“Cherry Street.”

“Let’s talk more while I clean up the kitchen.”

“I’ll help.” I was determined to, even though my stomach was still uneasy.

We went back downstairs, my gaze taking in everything as I imagined what it would be like to live here. The house itself was cozy, comfy, well-kept, and clean. The place wasn’t the issue.

The issue was the man. My attraction to him. Well, that and a jillion other details.

Would living in the same house, seeing his human side—the side that left socks on the floor or sang off-key in the shower or whatever his annoying habits were—would that snuff out the sparks of attraction? Or would it intensify them?

“A garage apartment, huh?” Chance asked as he tidied the kitchen counter.

“It’s small, but it would be just me.”

“Then you and a baby.”

I started washing one of the pans. “Right. How would that work here though? A baby will shake up everything. I can be a quiet, invisible roommate until the baby’s born.”

“You won’t have to be quiet or invisible here.”

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