After a long, draining shift on Friday, the last thing I expected was a knock at the door just as I stepped out of the shower. I froze, water still trickling down my back, steam clinging to the mirrors. No one I knew had my address. Maybe I imagined it.
But then it came again. Louder. More insistent.
I hastily wrapped myself in my robe, cinching it tight as I padded barefoot across the floor. My hair dripped onto the fabric, and suds clung stubbornly to my skin. I peered through the peephole.
And there he was. Jackson Ivory, standing at my door. I stumbled back, nearly tripping on the hem of my robe. My heart pounded wildly. His knuckles tapped again, and I pressed a hand to my chest, steadying my breath before cracking the door open.
"Hey," I said softly.
His gaze swept over me. His
