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“How was that?”

“Amazing. He’s super talented.” That didn’t even begin to describe it.

“Okay, well that’s something fun, at least. I like to think you didn’t move across the country just to sit in your apartment, work, and make meatloaf.”

“That does sound kind of tragic.” I snorted.

Hearing my mother’s voice reminded me yet again how much I missed home. And she was right. I hadn’t left Montana, and everything I knew, to sit in an apartment all day. My time here needed to be about more than just work and keeping house. I needed to use this experience to better myself. Considering all the drooling I’d been doing over my boyfriend’s best friend, it seemed like I was off to a great start—or not.

So, after the phone call with Mom, I threw myself into making dinner. Once I put the meatloaf in the oven, I began washing vegetables for a salad.

A few minutes later, the smoke alarm went off. What the hell?

I checked the meatloaf, and it looked fine, though there was a fair amount of fat dripping onto the bottom of the oven, which was what probably triggered the alarm. Didn’t seem to be burning, though. I lowered the heat, not sure what else to do.

A moment later, the door burst open, causing me a near heart attack.

“Is everything okay?” Rafe panted.

“Yeah.” I placed my hand on my chest. “Must be a temperamental detector. I’m only baking a meatloaf, and it doesn’t seem to be burning or on fire.” I shook my head. “This is super embarrassing.”

He waved that away. “Happens to me all the time. Having smoke detectors that work is better than the alternative, I guess.”

“True.”

The smoke alarm suddenly stopped.

Despite my best attempts to shift my focus away from Rafe, he looked especially sexy this afternoon, dressed in a collared black shirt that was mostly undone and rolled up at the sleeves. His dirty-blond hair was tied back, but long ringlets framed his face. I’d never been into men with long hair before, but now?

Snap the fuck out of it, Talia. I cleared my throat. “I guess I’m good?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “It has a mind of its own.” But rather than heading back downstairs, Rafe stepped farther into the apartment. “So, you’re cooking, huh?”

“It’s my grandmother’s recipe. I was missing home today, so I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone: make something that reminds me of home and also have a nice dinner for Calder when he gets back from work.”

“Nice, Suzy Homemaker,” he quipped.

“Hardly.” My cheeks felt hot.

Rafe slipped his hands into the pockets. “I’m sorry you guys had to leave the show early last night.”

I glanced down at the rips in the knees of his jeans. “Oh…yeah. Calder had to work today, so we weren’t able to stay too late.” I couldn’t help but add, “But I could’ve watched you all night. There are no words to describe how talented you are, Rafe.”

Now I sound like the ultimate fangirl.

He deflected. “Well, I mainly invited you because of the poetry slam, and you got to see that. I knew you’d like that part of the evening based on your book idea.”

It touched me that he’d made that connection. “You’re right about that. Even if Calder was ready to pull his hair out.”

“I knew it wouldn’t be Calder’s jam.” He laughed. “It’s a wonder sometimes how he and I are such good friends. Our tastes couldn’t be more different.”

And ours couldn’t be more similar.

But the mention of their friendship was a virtual slap on the wrist, reminding me to tame the rush of excitement that stirred whenever I was in this man’s orbit. Whatever it was between Rafe and me seemed to go beyond physical attraction. I was drawn to him by an unspoken, inappropriate connection, and I didn’t understand it.

Is it just me? Is this all in my head? Am I delusional? Or does Rafe feel it, too?

He sniffed the air. “Meatloaf, you said? Smells good.”