I heard Cam’s door open and I knew it couldn’t be Ollie. My heart stuttered and I tried to get the door open and get the groceries in before he saw me, except that wasn’t possible. Dismissing the idiotic idea of leaving the groceries in the hall, I bent over, grabbing as many bags as possible.

“Avery.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I froze, three bags of groceries dangling precariously from my aching fingers. My throat closed up as I felt him come closer. It was as if my body was aware of him on some kind of subconscious level.

“Let me help you.”

His deep voice wove its way through my chest, working a shiver from me. I opened my eyes, but kept my gaze glued to what I could see of my apartment. “I got it.”

“Doesn’t look that way,” he replied. “Your fingers are turning purple.”

They were. “It’s fine.” I started into my apartment, but Cam moved quickly. He slid around me and all I saw was his midsection. Thank God he was wearing a sweater. His hand came into view and he extracted the bags from my fingers, brushing over mine in the process. I jerked back, causing one of the bags to hit the floor. “Shit.”

I stooped down, grabbing my hair conditioner before it rolled down the steps. Cam knelt, picking up the rest of my spilled items. In his hands were my shampoo, toothpaste, and tampons. Nice. Cursing under my breath, I forced my gaze up.

Cam’s jaw was clamped shut, and I had to look away quickly, because seeing him wasn’t good.

“If you laugh, I will punch you in the stomach,” I said, grabbing the rest of the groceries.

“I wouldn’t dare think of laughing.” A hint of amusement filled his tone.

He followed me into my apartment, moving past me and putting the bags on the counter. I did the same, my heart pumping with him in my kitchen. “You didn’t have to help, but thank you,” I said, hands shaking as I pulled the milk out of one of the bags. He was still in the kitchen, standing in front of the door. “I really need to—”

“Do you really think you’re going to get rid of me that easily now that I’m in here?” he asked.

I shoved the milk into the fridge and went to the frozen stuff. “I could only hope.”

“Ha. Funny. We need to talk.”

Stacking the frozen dinners into a pile, I carried them to the freezer. “We don’t need to talk.”

“Yes, we do.”

“No, we don’t. And I’m busy. As you can see, I have groceries to put away and I—”

“Okay, I can help.” Cam strolled forward, heading to the counter. “And we can talk while I help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Yeah, I think you kind of do.”