She pulled into the driveway next to a motorcycle that was already parked in front of the garage.
Great, the tenant was here. Perfect timing. She could give him his thirty days’ notice. She even had the paperwork ready. Noticing that her bag had slid off her lap onto the floorboards, she bent down to grab it.
“Hey, there’s Darius!” exclaimed S.G..
Kate jumped, and her head hit the steering wheel. “Crap,” she muttered. Of all the random names, why did S.G. have to say that one?
Carefully, she maneuvered her head from under the steering wheel, bag in hand. “You scared me, S.G..”
“Darius isn’t as scary as he looks,” the girl said cheerfully. She waved at someone Kate couldn’t quite see. “He’s actually nice. He taught me how to play darts at the firehouse.”
Uh oh. A sinking feeling settled into Kate’s stomach. The firehouse? Darius had said he was a firefighter. He couldn’t possibly be…
She craned her neck to see who S.G. was waving at.
And there he came, striding down the sidewalk with a dog bouncing at his heels. Looking just as big and mouthwatering and lust-inspiring as he’d looked last night. The black t-shirt was gone, and in its place he wore a faded t-shirt with a band she couldn’t make out. His workout sweats were ripped off at the knees, revealing unbelievably muscular calves.
Apparently he’d been running, because his hair was thickened with sweat and a triangle of dampness darkened his t-shirt. He lifted the bottom edge to wipe sweat off his face. The sight of his muscular abdomen and the dark covering of curls sent heat lancing through her.
This was just bad on every possible level.
“You know Darius?”
“He’s the fire chief.”
“Of Lost Harbor?”
“Of course. Where else?”
“No,” Kate moaned out loud.
“Yes. He was pretty mad at me at first when he found out I was hiding there. But then he got over it and he’s my friend now. I’m going to say hi.” S.G. hopped out and scampered down the sidewalk to greet him.
Kate felt as if she was watching a movie unfold in slow motion. Darius dropped his t-shirt and gave S.G. a wide grin. The dog, who looked to be some kind of husky mix, sat on his haunches and watched alertly as they conversed.
Slowly her breathing returned to normal. So Darius lived in Lost Harbor—was the fire chief of Lost Harbor—and he was jogging through the neighborhood. So what? It was just a weird coincidence, or one of those things that happened when you lived in a small town. That didn’t mean they’d be running into each other all the time.
Luckily, they hadn’t actually done anything last night.
Taking in a deep breath for strength, she got out of the truck and tucked her hands in her pockets. Strolling down the sidewalk toward them, she decided it was her turn to give someone else a shock.
“Hello there, Darius.”
He turned to greet her, but he didn’t seem surprised. “Hi Kate.”
Managing a friendly smile, she walked down the driveway toward him. And toward S.G., of course, except that somehow the girl was little more than a blur at this point. All she could see was Darius’ wide shoulders and tousled hair. In the daylight, he was even more attractive, which didn’t happen very often, in her experience. The firm lines of his face, the set of his jaw, the sensual curl of his lips, all were details that she hadn’t noticed the night before.
“How are you feeling—” He paused, glancing down at S.G.
Which was a very thoughtful touch that she appreciated. S.G. didn’t need to know their business.
“So you’re the Lost Harbor fire chief,” she said quickly, changing the subject. “Fancy that.”
“Yeah. And you…” His gaze shifted to her truck and her load of boxes. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re delivering something?”
“Oh, just myself and my possessions,” she said cheerfully. “I’m moving into this house. I had no idea the first neighbor I met would be the fire chief. Do you live around here?”
“Pretty close.”
She glanced at S.G., who was now crouched down next to the dog, cooing and petting him. Oblivious to anyone else. ““Listen, about…last night. I…uh…”
“I was worried about you when I woke up this morning.” He deepened his voice to an intimate level that sent shivers through her. “Didn’t think you should be driving.”
“Well, it was fine. And…thank you, for helping me. I…uh…” His physicality was so distracting, she was having trouble forming a complete sentence. “I thought you were from Oregon. If I’d known you were from Lost Harbor, things never would have gone so far.”
“A little too close to home, huh? Okay, I guess I see the logic.” She watched one corner of his mouth lift into a slow curve. There was a sexy draw to those lips. A fullness, a promise of reckless naughtiness.
Was she swaying toward him? Good God.
She took a determined step backwards. “Awkwardly enough, apparently we’re neighbors. My first order of business is dealing with the tenant who lives downstairs.” A bright idea struck her. “Maybe you can help me with that.”
“Sure. Happy to. What are you thinking…rent reduction? Maybe some renovating?”
She blinked at him in confusion. A slight wisp of an ache drifted behind her eyes, like a flashback of a headache. “Why would I do that?”
“Don’t tell me you’re about to do something nasty and kick him out. That could definitely get you off on the wrong foot in this neighborhood.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because people tend to be protective of their local fire chief.”
All the pieces settled into place—and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized it right away. She also couldn’t believe her bad luck. Maybe she really was cursed.
“You’re D. Boone,” she groaned.
“Fraid so. Darius Boone.” He smirked at her as he stuck out his hand. “Guess you’re my new landlady. Nice to meet you. You’re a lot different in person. In your emails, you came across kind of…antagonistic.”
Without returning his handshake, she wheeled around and headed for her truck. The pulse behind her eyes was blooming into a full-fledged ache. She probably should still be in bed. He was probably right about that. And she hated that he was right about that, because he was a jerk.
Okay, a jerk who had taken care of her last night.
And a jerk who was nice to S.G..
And a jerk who had rescued her from the mud.
She stalked past the bed of the truck, brushing against one of the boxes that had shifted during her drive down the hill.
“Watch it!” he called after her. She flung her arm up in an “I got this” gesture—and hit the box.
Which tumbled off the pile and headed for the ground. She lunged for it, hoping to stop it in midair, before it spilled her possessions all over the lawn. But she was a second too late, and instead it landed smack on her right foot.
She held back the swear words that wanted to fly from her mouth. Cursed was beginning to seem like too mild a word for this string of bad luck.
Wincing from the pain in her foot, she crouched down and picked up the box.