Bam, bam, bam.

“Bruiser, attack,” I moaned.

The dog in question, sprawled out next to me just like he was every night, also groaned, sliding off the bed inelegantly and shaking off the sleep before ambling down the hallway to check on the commotion.

If someone ever tried to break into my house, that dog would probably sleep through it. The click of Bruiser’s nails on the hardwood started tapping quickly, and he gave an excited whine as he danced around.

Staring up at the ceiling, I let out a heavy sigh. The clock on my nightstand told me it was 6:45 a.m., and that was much, much too early on my day off.

Instead of another knock, the phone on my bedside table dinged with a text, and I rolled over to a sitting position as I yawned.

“Coming,” I called out. My bleary eyes narrowed as the text came into focus. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Griffin:Let me in, birdy. I’ve got muffins and coffee.

With a huff, I flung off the covers, dumping my phone somewhere in the pile of blankets before I ripped a cardigan off the back of my bedroom door. I slipped my arms in as I walked down the hallway, pulling my hair out from the neck of the sweater before wrapping the fuzzy material tight around my upper body.

Bruiser’s nose was pressed to the door, his butt wiggling in excitement, and when I yanked the door open, he sprang out to greet Griffin.

The man in question laughed as my dog ran in excited circles around his legs. “Good morning, pup. Did you miss me?”

I slicked my tongue over my teeth and waited—very patiently, I might add—for any sort of explanation as to why he was at my home before seven in the morning.

At my home looking fresh and wide awake and like he’d just hopped off a magazine cover. His long legs were covered in black joggers, his upper body in a fitted white T-shirt bearing the Denver logo. A black cap tugged low over his face made him look slightly mysterious, tiptoeing over the line of disreputable with the heavy stubble coating his jaw.

“If this is your idea of teaching me anything, I’m ready to renegotiate.”

When he looked up, his eyes widened slightly, running over my sleep-crazy hair and the cardigan, lingering slightly on my bare legs. “Good morning, sunshine. That’s quite a sweater.”

It was criminal, really, his ability to keep me off-balance.

In truth, the sweater was a ghastly thing—three sizes too big, made from a fuzzy purple yarn that no one should be wearing in public. “Lauren made it for me,” I explained unnecessarily. “She went through a phase a few years back. Tried to get me to join along, but knitting isn’t my thing.”

“No?”

I shook my head. “It makes me feel violent, actually.”

He whistled. “Then by all means, make sure you don’t do it when I’m around.”

I smiled tightly. “You seem to bring out that side of me all by yourself. Now, what are you doing here?”

He held up the familiar bakery bag. “Blake says good morning and gives her apologies for being out of blueberries, but she’s expecting a delivery today.”

With a sigh, I stepped back to let him in. “How did you know where I lived?”

Griffin waltzed into my house, ducking slightly so he didn’t whack his head on the doorframe. “We have this amazing newfangled thing called the internet now. You should try it.” He passed me the bag, setting down the drink carrier on the antique credenza against the wall to the right of my front door. “It’s cute in here. Very homey.”

“Thanks.”

“Do your parents live in town too?” he asked, studying the family pictures on the wall—trips we’d taken together when I was in high school. He tapped on the frame of a painting of an indigo bunting perched on the branch of an aspen tree. “This is pretty.”

“Thank you. And no, um, they live in Fort Collins, which isn’t far. But at the moment, they’re on a cruise around the world.”

His eyebrows shot up. “No shit? That’s cool.”

I nodded. “They retired a few years ago but never really got to celebrate. So ... I told them there was no time like the present.”

“Huh. How long will they be gone?”