Page 25 of Coach's Temptation

Unfortunately, the universe has other plans.

I round the corner into the main hallway and come face to face with Sophia, who halts mid-step, tilts her head, and immediately narrows her eyes.

"Uh, why do you look like a drowned rat?"

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.Here we go.

"Because my apartment is now a luxury swimming pool."

Sophia blinks. Once. Twice.

"… I’m sorry, what?"

Lucy Daniels, the new graphic designer, chooses that exact moment to walk up, clutching her tablet and a very large Summit Café latte that smellsdivine. She takes one look at me and grins.

"Ooof. This feels like a story."

I grunt and hate how put-together they both look right now.

Sophia rocks her signature power-exec style in a cream pencil skirt and emerald silk blouse that makes her eyes pop. Her streaked blonde hair falls in perfect waves.

And Lucy?

She's like a walking Pinterest board in her floral midi dress and chunky cardigan, honey-blonde curls bouncing with each movement.

I drag my hands down my face, sighing dramatically. "It started with a leak, turned into an indoor monsoon, and by the time I left, I was one bad decision away from building a tiny raft and floating my way to work."

Lucy lets out a low whistle. "Damn. And I thought my Monday sucked."

"You're serious? Like, actual flooding?" Sophia asks, eyes scanning my entire state of being—the damp hoodie, the seaweed looking hair, the pure exhaustion written all over my face.

I hold up my arms. "What do you think?"

Sophia winces. "Yeah. Okay. That tracks."

"So… what’s the plan?" Lucy asks, sipping her coffee. "You couch surfing or braving the elements like a badass?"

I groan, rolling my shoulders. "No idea yet. I need to find a plumber. Or a magician. Then, I guess I might stay at my parents' place. I don't really have a choice."

Sophia makes a yikes face and we spend the next half an hour discussing the state of my life.

Lucy is fully invested in this situation. Like, she’stooinvested. She's already searching for cheap apartments on her phone, scrolling with the determination of someone hunting for a designer bag at a thrift store.

"Ooooh, how do we feel about ‘cozy studio with lots of charm’?" She angles her phone toward me.

I glance at the screen, still wringing water out of my sleeve. "Lucy, that’s a literal shoebox."

"Correction," she counters. "It’s a shoebox with ‘natural light’."

"It’s also $2,300 a month." I press my fingers to my temples. "I don't need a new place. I just need a temporary fix."

Lucy hums, scrolling again. "Okay, what about short-term rentals? Airbnb? There’s this one listing that says ‘rustic mountain charm with—’"

"No."

"But it comes with free firewood—"

"No."

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