Just after three in the afternoon, when I was about to finally put the bookcases together, there was a knock on my apartment door.

I stepped out into the hall, my stomach flip-flopping around. I wasn’t expecting anyone, but intuition sprung alive. Hurrying to the door, I didn’t bother with the useless peephole. I cracked open the door.

“Brock,” I whispered.

“Hey,” he replied with a grin.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, glancing around like the outside hallway held all the answers.

“Visiting you.”

My brows lifted.

“I’m actually here to do my good deed for the day.”

Having no idea what he was talking about, I stepped aside. “And what would that good deed be?”

Brock walked into my apartment, and as he passed me, he swooped down and kissed me before I could even process what he was doing. It was sweet and all too brief, but still left me standing there stunned.

“Kissing me was your good deed?” I finally asked, closing the door.

He looked over his shoulder at me. “I kind of like the way you think, but no. I’m here to put together your bookcases, because I’m sure you still haven’t done that since you mentioned buying them.”

“I haven’t,” I admitted. “You remembered that?”

Brock faced me. “I remember everything, Jilly.”

A shiver curled its way down my spine, and I looked away. “You seriously came over to put together my bookshelves?”

“Yep.” There was a pause. “And I wanted to see you.”

I peeked at him, unsure of what to say.

“I know I said I’d give you time,” he said after a moment.

“And this is you giving me time?”

“Yes.” That half-grin was back, doing funny things to my stomach. “So where are the bookshelves?”

“In the second bedroom down the hall.” Deciding that if he wanted to put the shelves together, he could have at it. I had no problem supervising.

Aaand I was kind of, okay sort of, really interested to see him here.

“I’ll grab some drinks,” I offered, then pivoted around, hurrying off before I could change my mind and ask him to leave, even though I knew I wanted him to stay.

Gah. Sometimes I made no sense to myself. At all.

Once I had two bottles of water, I led him into the guest room. It was pretty barren. Just a narrow, single bed that was barely used, a desk in the corner, and a nightstand.

Brock didn’t comment on the lack of design as he walked toward the pieces of the shelving system. “Where’s your cat?”

“Probably in my bedroom, under the covers. That’s where he takes his afternoon naps.”

Brock laughed. “I like that cat.”

“Yeah, he likes you. Which is weird because that cat hates everyone.”

“Your cat has good taste.” He slid me a sidelong glance. “Then again, everyone likes me.”