Page 47 of Your Place or Mine

“I’m not. I’m doing it because I like it when buildingsdon’t catch fire.”

Riley slid between us, smiling like we weren’t one wrong word from spontaneous combustion. “She’s actually been amazing, Callum. She’s helping me figure out what’s fixable, what needs replacing, and how to do it without breaking the bank.”

Callum didn’t say anything. He crossed his arms and stared at the coffee maker like it betrayed him.

Riley kept going. “Yeah. God forbid our landlord wants to make our building more modern and up-to-date.”

I watched him stiffen at the wordmodern, as if it physically pained him.

“That’s how it starts,” he muttered. “New fridge, new lights, next thing you know, we’ve got live music, brunch, and Wi-Fi passwords printed on chalkboard signs.”

I arched a brow. “Wow. You say that like it’s a crime.”

“Itis,” he deadpanned. “A slow, developing crime.”

Riley handed him his coffee, still grinning. “You’ll survive. And who knows? Maybe Lydia will even convince you to fix that crooked sign of yours.”

Callum took the coffee, grumbled something unintelligible, and muttered a thank-you to Riley that sounded more like a threat.

He didn’t say another word to me.

Just turned on his heel and walked out, the bell above the door jingling sweetly behind him like it was mocking his whole existence.

I exhaled slowly.

Riley watched him go, then turned to me. “So... is that the vibe every time you two see each other?”

“Apparently,” I said. “It’s like being glared at by a lumberjack with a deep distrust of modern plumbing.”

She laughed. “To be fair, that soundsexactlylike Callum.”

“Excellent. So I’m not imagining it.”

“Nope.” She leaned in. “But Iamimagining the day he cracks and accidentally holds the door open for you or—gasp—smiles.”

I stared at the door he’d just exited through.

“Don’t hold your breath.” I shook my head. “He served me weeds in my drink the other night.”

She hid a chuckle, and I found myself smiling at the memory.

But even as I turned back to the list Riley and I had been building, I couldn’t stop the flash of him in my head—scowling, yes, but underneath that? The muscle in his jaw jumped when he bit back something, and the flicker in his eyes said maybe he didn’t hate me quite as much as he had pretended.

Or maybe I was just projecting.

Which would be easier to believe if I didn’t keep noticing how his shirts always fitjustright, or how his voice scraped across my nerves in a way that left heat behind.

It was almost as if I craved this challenge of a man.

I shook my head and focused on the ceiling tiles again.

It was too early for this much emotional whiplash and way too early to admit that the most infuriating man in town might also be the reason I couldn’t stop daydreaming before noon.

It was barely nine-thirty, and I already needed a second cup of coffee and a full therapy session. The first could be handled with a refill from Riley. The second… well, that might take a bit longer.

I stood behind the counter, staring down at the tablet Riley had given me, but I wasn’t really looking at the list of maintenance notes. I was thinking about a man with a permanent frown, a closet full of flannel, and a jawline that really had no business being that sharp at this hour of the morning.

Callum Benedict.

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