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I lift one right back. “I do actually have a makeshift litter box for him. What did you think I was going to do at the office? Let him pee all over your floors?”

For a moment, Lucas only stares. Then he blinks.

Then he starts to furiously type on his phone.

“I’m not allowing a ‘makeshift’ litter box in my home,” he mumbles. “One litter box coming right up.”

I sigh, knowing I’m not winning the battle of stopping Lucas from buying shit for me. All I can do is let that be the only thing.

So, of course, the next words out of Lucas’s mouth are, “Is there anything else I can get you? I know you ate at the office, but if you want something to eat, I was going to⁠—”

“I’m good, thank you,” I interrupt. “I think I’m going to just go to sleep. It’s been a long day, you know?” It hasn’t, and I’m probably going to be up working for a few more hours, but I need to put an end to this weird day and interaction.

“Of course,” Lucas agrees with a wave. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Your bags should be up any minute—" He’s interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door. “Perfect timing. I’ll have them brought in and then I’ll leave you alone.” Gesturing toward the bathroom, he says, “There are towels and soaps and shampoos and the usual amenities in the bathroom, and the sheets were just put on the bed this week. So you should have everything you need. But if you do run across something you need, just—" He pulls out his phone and types out a quick message. My phone buzzes with an email. “I just sent you my number. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

I can only blink at the notification on my phone. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

But when Lucas nods and turns toward the door, I find myself reaching for Lucas’s arm.

He turns around in surprise, his gaze dropping to where my hand is gripping his forearm. I wait until his eyes lift to meet mine before I say earnestly, “Thank you.”

There’s the tiniest flash of surprise in his eyes. But then he nods and replies simply, “You’re welcome.”

I expect it to take me a while to get to sleep, what with the foreign environment and all. But to my surprise, I’m out the second my head hits the pillow.

I end up sleeping until 11 a.m. Which isn’t that much later than my usual, but it’s still late enough to tell me I needed the rest.

I stretch my arms over my head with a satisfied smile. This bed is so. comfortable. I’ve never slept in a bed this soft. The sheets are insane, too. I could easily cocoon here for the rest of the day.

But my stomach lets out a rumble, and I realize I do actually need to get up and figure out some food. And the rest of my day. Because what am I supposed to do in Lucas’s apartment all weekend?

I have plenty of work. Both for Lucas and for some of my side jobs. But that still means I need to emerge from the room to get the Wi-Fi from Lucas.

My stomach growls again, louder this time. Also, food.

I pull on a pair of black lettings and my favorite oversized sweatshirt, then quickly wash my face and brush my teeth before throwing my hair into a loose bun. The casual outfit isn’t a far cry from the less-than-business-casual outfits I usually wear to the office, but the weirdest part is being in mismatched socks as I open the bedroom door. I feel naked without my combat boots.

I let Milton into the guest living space to roam, but quickly slide the door to the hallway closed behind me so he can’t get out into the rest of the house. I’m going to have to cross my fingers that a weekend isn’t long enough for him to get curious and start picking at the locks like he usually does.

I have no idea what I’m expecting to find when I step into the open-concept kitchen and living area of Lucas’s apartment, but it’s not him wearing a white t-shirt and pajama bottoms, his feet bare and his hair tousled and product-less. His bleary eyes make me think he just woke up. And to finish the domesticated picture, he’s got a skillet in his hand, making some kind of egg dish.

His eyes go wide when he sees me, his movement stuttering.

“Whoa. Your hair looks different.”

“You don’t sleep in a suit,” I say at the same time.

He frowns. “What? Why would I sleep in a suit?”

A grin lifts my lips, unprompted. I decide to move closer and lean against the far side of the island. “I just assumed suits were the only thing you wear.”

He lifts an eyebrow and spreads his arms wide. “Just because I look good in a suit doesn’t mean that’s the only thing I look good in, Charli.”

To my horror, I have no answer to that.

My gaze drops, unbidden, to his outfit. The t-shirt is just tight enough that I can see his arm and chest muscles that I had no idea he had. They’re lean, nothing crazy that would be obvious in his suits, but I can make out the veins running the length of them. The ones on his forearms in particular⁠—

“Charlotte.”