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Even my recent good fortune was the result of things that’d happened to me instead of active choices I’d made. Noah offered me the job; I hadn’t pursued it. He’d asked me to move in; I hadn’t come up with the solution myself.

Call it a later quarter-life crisis or whatever, but it was time to stop being passive and do something with my life.

Luckily, I had a plan.

The challenge items might seem random, but I liked having simple, concrete tasks to check off rather than vague abstractions. They were a nice mix of things I’d always aspired to do (like work out), things I’d avoided because they were outside my comfort zone (like asking someone out first), and things I should do for the person I wanted to become (like figuring out my purpose in life, no big deal). The list wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

However, it was difficult to focus on my personal improvement plan when I had a glowering, six-foot-plus distraction vying for my attention. Living with Evie was great; living with Noah was...complicated. I’d moved in a week ago, but I still wasn’t used to seeing traces of him so casually around the house.

His shoes by the door.

His sweatshirt draped over the back of a couch.

His arm barely brushing mine as we passed each other in the halls, our almost-touches lingering longer than our conversations.

He never acknowledged me beyond a brief “hello” and “good night,” nor did he make any attempt to integrate me into his life. It was almost as if he were avoiding me, but it was hard to stay away from each other indefinitely when we lived under the same roof.

I stopped in the kitchen doorway, my heart fluttering. Noah was there with Evie. He wore a Blackcastle tracksuit, an overnight duffel at his feet. The team had an away match, so he’d be gone tonight and tomorrow.

Evie was already dressed in her school uniform. Her hair was styled in a rather haphazard braid, and she stared up at him with big puppy eyes. “Can you bring me back a hoodie with the city name on it? Pleeeease?”

“You already have a dozen hoodies,” he said. “How many do you need?”

“One more from Holchester, please.”

“Fine. One more.” He chucked her under the chin. “Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

“I always stay out of trouble.”

“I distinctly remember coming home one day to crayon all over the walls.”

“It was creative expression,” Evie informed him, the picture of seriousness. “It’s highly encouraged in children to develop their sense of individuality.”

Noah’s laugh boomed through the kitchen. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and an honest-to-god smile lit up his face.

Holy shit. It was my first time hearing him laugh, and it was like spotting a unicorn in the wild.

The sound washed over me, and my mouth curled into an involuntary smile of its own.

Noah’s head turned. Our gazes collided, and the flutters intensified. Without his trademark scowl, he looked like a different person—an impossibly beautiful, human one.

My heart thundered in my ears.

This. This was the hardest part about living with the Wilsons.

I’d settled into their house quickly, but I hadn’t been mentally prepared for what my close proximity to Noah would do to me. It was easy to keep him at arm’s length when I only saw the grumpy, moody version of him.

But the version of him that left Evie a little good-luck note every morning and listened to her ramble about her day every night? The version that fixed the uneven dresser leg in my room without my asking and made an extra mug of my favorite tea when it was cold? That version was dangerous because it was so easy to like.

Noah’s grin faded, but we didn’t look away.

The same frisson of electricity I’d felt in Budapest and in the den returned, strong enough to jolt me back to my senses.

I understood why his former nannies had developed crushes on him. But I couldn’t let that be me. I had too much to lose and too much pride to cave.

No secret pining. That was the rule.

I broke eye contact and walked into the kitchen, willing my heart rate to return to normal. “Good morning,” I chirped, careful not to look at Noah as I picked up Evie’s backpack from the table. “Ready for school?”