As I watch, she lifts a hand up and presses it toward the ceiling a few times, then goes back to her hip shimmies. It’s a silly, cheesy dance move, and I find myself chuckling as I watch her.

I’m torn. Part of me wants to stand here and watch her cook and dance. The other part of me wants to hurry inside so I can hold her again. So, after watching her ‘raise the roof’ again, I continue up the walk.

When Bo and I enter the house, I can hear the music she’s playing. Nineties rap. I walk to the kitchen to the tune of her fumbling some of the lyrics, but also nailing the chorus, back-up refrain and all.

The song ends as I reach the kitchen, and she turns to glance over her shoulder at me in the silence before the next song. “Oh! Oh my gosh, what are you doing here? You didn’t hear me—”

“I heard.” I laugh as I close the gap between us. “Impressive.”

“I listened to these songs on repeat when I was in college.” She reaches out for her phone and lowers the speaker volume as the next tune comes on. “This playlist is packed with my most potent feel-good jams.”

The current song ramps up, and she shakes her hips. “Ohhh… this one is good.” Then she pauses her dancing and studies me. “You’re not mad that I’m up here, are you?”

“Not at all.” I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her in for a kiss. How did I survive, without these kisses? This one leaves me feeling so good, that I want to pick her up and carry her back up to the roof so we can cuddle on the couch again.

Maybe I won’t go back to work at all today. The staff will be fine without me for one lousy afternoon, right?

In fact, I could take the week off…

When we part, Bella swivels to the counter and snatches up a spatula. Something fragrant sizzles on the stove. She whirls around to flip it. “You have to be careful with omelets. You want them to be fluffy, not rubbery.”

“Is that right? I didn’t know. I guess I’m clueless about eggs. Here I was, thinking they were breakfast food.”

“Thisismy breakfast. I guess when you fall asleep at dawn, mealtimes get a little wonky.” She places a lid over the sizzling pot and then looks over her shoulder at me. Her eyes flash like she’s thinking about something that worries her. “We had a late night, didn’t we?”

The music still emanating from her phone thrums through my veins. Or is it being near Bella that makes my blood rush like this?

“We did.”

“Did you get up at seven? I was out cold, I guess.”

“Actually, I didn’t have my first espresso shot until nine. And I skipped my morning run. It’s the first time I’ve missed a trail run on a weekday in years. I know I’m supposed to take baby steps, but the situation I’m currently in requires a leap, and I’m going for it.”

Her analytical, sharp look softens, and her eyes crinkle at the corners as she laughs. “A leap, hm?”

“A leap.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“ Depends on who you ask.”

“Then I’ll ask you. Is this a dangerous leap, you’re taking?” Her eyes snag on mine, sending me the meaning behind her words. And as I look at her standing there in her cut-off shorts with the fringe of white poking out from the bottom, her tank top barely containing her curves, and her hair a wild, dark waterfall over one shoulder, my mind fires off a quick response to her questions.Yes. Yes, falling for you is dangerous.

Dangerous, but worth it.

“All rewards require risk,” I tell her. “Maybe I’ve gone too long without taking a risk.”

“What’s the reward you’re hoping for?”

“I wouldn’t mind repeating last night.”

“Is that right? Well, that’s a relief.” A quick smile lights up her face. “I wouldn’t mind, either. And here I was, worried it may have been a one-night thing. ‘Cause I’m working for you and everything… and crashing in your guest room. All that makes this a little… complicated.”

“I can handle complicated. Can you?”

“I’ve always done my best to handle everything life throws at me.” She walks up to me and places her hand on my chest. “Oh, wow. No tie,” she notes, before standing on her tiptoes and giving me a quick kiss.

I was right. She’s barefoot. Her cut-offs have a little sunflower patch hand-sewn into the front pocket.