Before exiting, I pause, checking behind my shoulder to see if Tegan has blocked the doors like I asked. And there she is, leaning against the doorframe in her faded jeans, white sneakers, and a flannel shirt. Dark-blonde hair loose on her shoulders, arms crossed over her chest, and a slight frown complete the teenage-fantastic look.

I tear my eyes from my sulky daughter and quickly cross the street to where I’ve parked the small truck we rented for the big move today. But instead of one, I find two identical trucks parked next to each other. I’m not even sure which one is mine, until I spot the driver still behind the wheel of the truck on the left. The man is tall, even sitting down, with a distinctive mop of curly dark hair, blazing blue eyes, and a chiseled face that’d be hard to forget. He’s the crazy guy who barged into my new office two days ago, a minute after I’d signed the lease, accusing me of everything that ever went wrong with his life.

What is he doing here?

Keeping to the side opposite of him, I close the distance to my van. Let’s hope he won’t spot me so I can dodge another unpleasant exchange. Also, I don’t want him to see me in jeans, sneakers, and an old sweater. When I go into battle, I prefer to wear my lawyer armor, and for my shoes to be spikey. Especially because the fool must’ve decided it’d be a good idea to move offices while wearing another impeccably tailored suit—navy blue like the one he had on the other day. Rude and impractical. What an idiot.

Luck isn’t on my side, though.

The moment I unlock the rental vehicle and its lights blink to life, the man rolls down his window and yells, “Hi, hello, sorry to bother you, but I’m stuck. I can’t open the door enough to get out. Could you please move your truck to the left a little? You have space.”

I pick up the last box from the rear of the van and circle back to the front, this time walking directly into his line of sight. “Sorry,” I say, watching with gusto as his blue eyes widen in recognition. “But I have an elevator full of boxes and I can’t keep it busy all morning.”

A flash of challenge blazes across his eyes, but it quickly disappears. He must have realized he can’t yell at me again and expect me to do him a favor. Time to eat some humble pie, Mr. Stuck.

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down in one dismayed swallow.

Ah, bet that pill tasted bitter.

True to expectations, his voice is polite-verging-on-pleading as he speaks next. “Please, it’d only take you a minute to move the truck.”