Page 45 of One Day Like This (Excess All Areas 1)

Or ask Luke. Again. God, she was always asking her brother for something it seemed.

“I’d love to help you out, miss, but I’m already behind schedule, and Ancoats would take a thirty-minute round trip out of my way.”

Izabel looked on in desperation as he climbed into the van and drove off. Ten large boxes of various dried pastas and noodles. She’d thought it a good idea to contact manufacturers directly to ask for donations. Every night after dinner, she sent off ten emails to manufacturers of anything that might help the shelter. Dried goods, cleaning supplies, bedding, and towels. Some had come through, but this was the first that had ended up at her house.

Urgh.

Right, well, given she lived in Manchester, she couldn’t leave them on the pavement until Luke got home because they’d be nicked from the curb before she’d make it back into her apartment. She’d do it in stages. Get all ten boxes in through the gate. Get all ten boxes in through the door. Step by step.

She’d just got the first three boxes through the gate when it clanged open behind her. Matt stood like a brooding hero, the sun low on the horizon lighting him from behind, creating a halo around him. White paint spattered his dark hair. If it wasn’t enough that she hadn’t seen him in a week, she had to see him now—while she was wearing a white sundress with splats of the Bolognese sauce she’d been in the middle of eating before the interruption.

And he was staring. Not smiling, not saying hello, just looking at her with an intensity that had the ability to burn her underwear right off.

She’d messaged him the previous evening. Nine days after the wedding and he’d still filled her thoughts.

I can still feel your hands on my skin, and I wonder if you can still feel mine on yours.

But he hadn’t responded to her message, just left her on read. He’d seen it. He’d known she was thinking about him. And he hadn’t felt her worthy of a reply. Mortification crept through her. What had she been thinking? In the darkness of her room, as she touched herself intimately as she thought about him, it had felt safe, seductive even, to send him that message. In the cold light of day, with no response from him, it felt needy and perhaps a little desperate.

You can do this, Iz. You can co-exist in a world with Matt in it, goddamnit.

“Excuse me,” she said, hoping to slide by and grab the next box.

“Iz.” Matt stepped to one side. For a moment, she thought he’d reached for her. At least, she thought she saw his hand raise in her direction before he snatched it back. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking he’d confess to being a dick and kiss her.

She grabbed the fourth box and carried it through the gate, placing it with the others.

Damn, he was till there when she returned for the fifth. The silence was deafening and awkward as hell, yet the way his eyes followed her—but he didn’t want her; at least, he didn’t want herenough.

“You need a hand?” he asked.

“No, I’ve got it.”

Matt stepped in front of her. “Let me help you.” This time, he did reach for her, a whisper of a touch to the ends of her hair. A wave of longing flooded through her, so strong it almost brought tears to her eyes.

“They delivered the donation to my home address and not the shelter.” Her voice cracked, the words sounding raw. “I need to get these into the apartment, and then get Luke to take them.”

“You want me to drive them over?”

Izabel shook her head. “They’d never all fit in your car. They’ll fit better in the van, plus Luke can drop me off in the morning.”

Matt nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll grab them from the curb to the elevator, if you want to take them up in the lift.”

Between the two of them, they made quick work. They carried the last two boxes into the elevator together. The doors closed, leaving them trapped inside, their hands thankfully full.

When they got to Luke’s apartment, Izabel placed her box on top of the one Matt was carrying to unlock the door. “You can just put them over there with the others,” she said, pointing to the spot behind the small round dining table.

Matt did as instructed then walked back toward her. She held the door open and looked down at the floor. “Thanks for your help.”

He stepped through the door, then stepped back inside and slammed it shut.

“Tell me no, Iz,” he growled as he stalked toward her.

Emotions impossible to describe coursed through her when she took in the look of pure hunger in his eyes. His body crowded hers until he scooped her up into his arms and pressed her back against the wall.

God. Yes.

Matt ran his nose along her jaw, down her neck. “I said tell me no.”

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