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He stares back.

Then his eyes widen. “Oh, fuck. No. Not that kind of box.”

I let out a breath so hard I almost get dizzy. “Jesus Christ!”

“Sorry!” He starts laughing. “Fuck, Peachy, you should’ve seen your face.”

I put a hand against my chest. “You can’t just pull out a little box like that!”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

I grab a dish towel and throw it at him. He catches it.

Damn his hockey reflexes.

“Open the damn box, Quinn.”

“Fine.”

He sets it on the counter and lets me lift the lid.

Inside is a key attached to a small key ring shaped like a peach.

I stare at it. “What is this?”

“It’s my apartment key.”

He smiles, but there’s something a little nervous underneath it. And that makes my heart start beating faster for an entirely different reason.

“You know, Peachy, there’s a perfectly good front door to this place.”

I blink. “Yes?”

“And you’ve been using it a lot lately.”

“That’s generally how I get inside.”

“Exactly. But you keep waiting for me to open it, which is getting inconvenient.”

I fold my arms.

“Inconvenient?”

“Terribly. Sometimes I’m busy doing important things.”

He picks up the key and holds it out to me. “So I figured we could solve the problem.”

I look at his hand.

The little peach swings gently from the key ring.

My throat tightens. “Are you giving me a key to your apartment?”

“Technically, I’m giving you a key to our apartment.”

I stop breathing.

Wyatt watches my face.