I should have known Landon would show up before I even asked him to.
I was halfway down the stairs when I heard the low, familiar sound of his car outside.
My stomach immediately betrayed me.
Of course he was here.
Because apparently he had decided “giving me space” was for weaker men.
I opened the front door and there he was, leaning against the McLaren in a black hoodie and sunglasses like some deeply inconvenient fantasy.
He smiled the second he saw me.
And despite the emotional turmoil, my body still had the audacity to react like:
oh no, he’s hot.
Rude.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying and failing to sound annoyed.
He pushed off the car. “Good morning to you too.”
“Landon.”
“What?” He spread his arms. “I’m being supportive.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re being no
