Page 49 of Rewind It Back

This will get me my dream job,I try to remind myself.

“Okay.” It’s the only thing I know to say that doesn’t expand on how much I hate the thought of me designing his future wife’s bedroom. I quickly cross the room, needing to get this over with so I can get out of here. “Two closets?” I ask, reaching out to grab the doorknob of one.

He rushes to meet me, holding his palm firmly against the closet door to keep it closed.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“We can leave this closet as is.”

“Can I at least look at it?”

“Nope.”

I eye him suspiciously. “Why are you being weird? If you remember, I was the one who found thatPlayboymagazine under your mattress when you were fifteen. It really can’t get much more embarrassing than that for you, Rio. Show me the closet.”

“Okay, as I told you a hundred times, that was Luke’s magazine. He was hiding it from your mom in my room.”

“Sure thing.” I reach for the knob again, but this time Rio places his entire body in front of the door to block me.

I can’t help but laugh in disbelief. “What are you hiding?”

He simply smiles down at me, his eyes light and bright.

This time, when I try to reach past him, he takes my wrist and in a swift move has me turned around with my back to his front and both my wrists trapped in a single one of his hands.

His laughter vibrates my whole body and I can’t help but mirror it with my own.

“So nosy, Hal,” he teases, walking us back to the center of the room.

But when we get there, he doesn’t let go and I don’t try to squirm away. My muscles don’t bunch in alarm. They loosen against him.

It feels like a drug, being this close to him, one that I used to be highly addicted to.

God, I missed him.

My throat works through a swallow. “I prefer the term ‘curious,’” I say in response, but the teasing has morphed into something different. Something heated.

His grip around my wrists loosens, but he doesn’t step away. His thumb swipes over my hand in a languid stroke, his breath dusting my ear, his chest pounding against my back.

This is decidedly outside offriendsterritory.

I spot a duffel bag on the floor in the corner of the room with his jersey number on it. “For example, I’m curious why you changed that.” I nod in the bag’s direction. “Your number.”

That’s what makes him step away. In fact, he creates distance as soon as the question is out of my mouth, his palm gliding over my hip bone as he does. “I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.”

Turning to face him, I open my mouth to tell him I don’t believe him when we both hear the front door unlock and open downstairs.

“Hi, honey!” a woman calls out from inside his house.

What the hell?

“Rio, are you home?” she continues. “I used the key you made me to get in.”

What the actual fuck?

My wide eyes shoot to Rio, but he’s just smirking down at me.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s just my friend, Indy.”

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