Page 75 of If Our Hearts Collide

Collins hits the up button, which produces a weird buzzing sound. Then he pushes open the stairway door. Without even asking, he scoops me up, making me yelp.

“There’s too many floors to be carrying me,” I protest.

“You don’t think I can do it?” he challenges.

“I, um”—my eyes flash up to the next landing—“no. I mean, I’m sure you can. But why would you want to? Seems excessive.”

“I already feel horrible about your blisters, Pen. Just let me take care of you tonight, okay?”

I swallow hard. He’s planning on taking care of me for more than just one night. That’s the resistance I have, right? I want to do things on my own. I want to have a say in how I spend my free time. I want to do what I want, when I want.

Yet, it feels good to be cared for in this manner. Except it’s…

Professional.

It’s a job to Collins.

And I’m the job.

14

COLLINS

I can’t remember in this lifetime if I ever drew a bath for someone. But here I stand with bubble bath in hand, making sure the water isn’t too warm. It’s the first time the tub will even be used since the new remodel.

I didn’t buy all of this girly-smelling stuff either. All of the products were a housewarming gift from the realtor who helped me find this place years ago. I mean, things like soap don’t expire, right?

Ironically, everything smells like the torturous scent of strawberries. It’s the fragrance that reminds me of innocence—and Penny Hoffman.

She is going to fight me at every turn. That’s what capable women do. They are stubborn as hell and resist help when they need it the most. She would have climbed all of those flights of stairs with her sore feet if I let her, never asking for help. That’s just who Penny is. She’s fierce, sassy, and determined.

I shut off the water for the bathtub, lay out another set of lounge clothes on the vanity, and place a new toothbrush on top.

Since living here, I haven’t had a woman in my place, other than the designer who helped with the upgrades and mycleaning lady who manages more than just the dust. There’s no weird comparison memories or flashbacks playing in my head right now. Yet, what I’m doing for Penny seems natural—as if I know exactly what to do to bring comfort to her.

I am a fixer. It’s what I do. I anticipate needs and come up with the plan on how to deliver services. Granted, all of my other assignments were straightforward and the requirements were easy to execute. With Penny, I’m constantly thinking outside the box. Hell, I’m pretty sure Penny arrived carrying the box in her hands, basically crushing it so she’d never be tempted to hop back inside it ever again.

I hear the soft footsteps behind me and turn to see Penny resting her weight against the doorframe.

“You have a really nice place, Collins.”

A smile forms on my lips. “Thank you. And you will too.”

Her eyes look around at all the details. “I don’t know. This place is pretty snazzy. I don’t think the Furniture Depot is going to give me the same effect.”

“I recently had some upgrades done. I can’t even take all the credit in the styling, because quite frankly, I don’t have style.”

My eyes coast along the tiled features, the soft lighting, and the built-in storage units. Well, I had a say in the features but not in the cosmetic aspects as much.

“The floors are so nice.”

“They heat on the cooler days, which will make it extra nice in the winter. I’m happy with the results.”

Penny takes a step inside, trailing her hand along the polished edge of the vanity. Picking up her toothbrush, she turns it over in her hands. It’s pink. I didn’t plan for my spare box in the closet to have girly-ish supplies. But maybe my realtor was just being humorous with her gift—and a hell of a lot presumptuous. I never would have expected to need all of thesupplies she gifted to me in a big basket. Sure, I could have gone out and hunted for them, but this is almost too convenient.

The more minutes Penny spends in my space, the more she feels like she belongs here.

“Are all of these things for your girlfriends?”

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