Page 10 of Stroke of Fate

Oh God.

I tighten my grip on the bag, silently praying the heat creeping up my cheeks isn’t too noticeable.

Needing to look anywhere but at his face, I drop my gaze to his torso, which isn’t any better. The black fabric pulls tight over his taut chest, hinting at the muscles underneath. I force my eyes past him, and my shoulders sag in relief.

“Uh, that looks like it.” I point to a familiar brown box sitting on his kitchen counter.

He turns slightly to glance back, and I take the precious few seconds of his attention being elsewhere to breathe easy.

“Oh, that,” he says coolly like he didn’t bring it in himself.

The nonchalant attitude sparks a flicker of annoyance in me. Or perhaps it’s because I can’t seem to control my body’s reaction to him.I feel like I’m barely treading water, and he’s floating on his back, completely at ease.

His gaze meets mine again. “Found it outside my door.”

“Sorry about that. I’m new and just moved in. There was a mix-up with apartment numbers.” I explain, offering what I hope is an apologetic smile and not a grimace.

He nods once before abruptly turning and heading into his apartment without another word.

I linger by the threshold, confused by his sudden shift in attitude but also slightly relieved. I can work with impolite and hot. Sweet and hot would be a deadly combination.

When he notices I haven’t moved, he raises a brow at me. “Well, are you coming inside?” A slow smile spreads across his face. “Promise I don’t bite.”

Ignoring the way my core pulses at his words, I keep my lips pressed together and deliberately avert my gaze as I step inside.

I take an inconspicuous glance around the room and am immediately struck by how tidy it is. A plush gray sofa takes up most of the living room, with blue and cream throw pillows on either side. Matching side chairs and a coffee table fill the rest of the space. In typical guy fashion, a flat-screen TV hangs on one wall, with a gaming console set up underneath.

The one thing that seems out of place is the stainless steel dog bowl on the floor. It's odd, because I clearly remember reading in the lease agreement that pets weren’t allowed.

Done snooping, I rock back on my heels. Now that I’m no longer distracted by looking around, the sound of running water reaches my ears.

There’s someone in his shower.

Of course, he has a girlfriend. Someone who looks like him could only be single by choice.

I refuse to acknowledge the way the thought of him with another girl makes my stomach churn. Instead, I focus on why I’m here.

Theonlyreason I’m here.

Clearing my throat, I aim for a polite approach and get to the point. “I’ll be out of your hair if you just hand over the box, please.” My smile feels strained, but it’s there.

“That depends.” His mouth curves up slightly at the corners. The small gesture is enough to send tingles across my skin.

What is wrong with me?

Maybe I’m coming down with something. The start of a fever, perhaps.

“Depends on what?” I croak.

“Are you Teddy Bear Miller?”

My smile slips from my face for the second time in his presence. There’s an undercurrent of mockery in his tone, and suddenly, my blood is boiling for an entirely different reason.

My name has always been a point of contention. Although I’ve grown to love its uniqueness, that wasn’t always the case—especially when I was younger. Kids can be cruel and have an uncanny ability to turn unique attributes into insults.

I haven’t had to deal with it for a very long time. But now, those old feelings resurface, and it’s like the first day of first grade all over again, with my name being tossed around like a joke laced with malice.

“It’sjustBear.” There’s an edge to my voice I don’t recognize.

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