“Madison is from an excellent family,” Frederica said after she finished laughing. “Her people don’t steal.”

Ha. Rich people stole all the time. Just ask my great-aunt Ida, who never failed to collect an expensive “souvenir” from every home she visited. Whenever Ida planned to come over, my mother used to have her staff spend hours clearing out anything small that Ida might try to pilfer.

“I hope you don’t think I was suggesting . . .” Tyler’s voice trailed off and he looked so uncomfortable I wanted to fix things.

“No one thought you were suggesting anything.” My tone was firm, mostly as a warning to my aunt, who seemed ready to defend Huntington honor, even though she wasn’t one herself.

“Good.” He again sounded relieved. “Because you seem nice and you come so highly recommended that I think this could work. Do you think it could? I never asked you what you’re looking for in an apartment.”

“Mostly I’m looking for a place to live where I have my own bed, I don’t have to worry about catching the bubonic plague or becoming the victim of a deranged killer.”

He laughed, and his laughter was like a thousand perfect sunsets combined with the happiness of a hundred seven-year-olds’ surprise birthday parties. It was warmth and joy and exuberance all rolled into one, and it lit up the butterflies in my stomach, making them dance and swirl.

“That’s . . . oddly specific,” he said when he finished. “I definitely think I can promise you those things here. It’s also important to me that we have an equitable situation. Like I love to cook, so I’ll be happy to do the cooking for us when I’m home. I want us to have a good quid pro quo arrangement.”

I would quid his pro quo any day of the week. But instead of saying so, I settled on, “That works for me.”

“Fantastic!” He got up, walked over to a dark wood credenza, and pulled open one of the drawers. He came back with a key. “In my personal life I’m a handshake-and-keep-my-word kind of guy, but I’m happy to have the legal department at work draw something up if you’d prefer. That is, if you’re in.”

Tyler gave me the key. He wanted me to move in!

And have his babies, my inappropriate inner vixen whispered. I told her to be quiet.

Then my rational brain had its own thoughts—about whether I should be so quick to agree to become his roommate. There was something inherently trustworthy and honest about him. He seemed to be exactly who he presented himself to be. Maybe that was my deprived hormones taking over again, and all drooling at his attractiveness aside, this was the first apartment besides Shay’s that I had felt comfortable in since I’d started house hunting. Not to mention that he had Frederica’s mark of approval—which might have been due to her own hormones, but I decided that I’d count it.

“A handshake works for me. And I am in.” I knew to never sign anything without having a lawyer look at it first, and since I couldn’t afford a lawyer, a handshake and his word were good enough.

I stood up when he held out his hand again, presumably for the handshake portion of the deal. I figured that since I’d already touched him, this second time would be no big deal.

Wrong. Tremors racked my insides at the warmth and strength of his grip and I held on for probably a second or so longer than what would be considered normal.

He gave me that grin that lit up my nerves like the Fourth of July. “I have a good feeling about this.”

Oh baby, me too. I internally hushed her again. He told me I could move in whenever I liked and that he’d be sure to let the doorman know to expect me.

“I’m looking forward to being your roommate,” I replied. It was a good thing he had no idea how much.

“Roommaid,” I heard Frederica quietly correct behind me. Fortunately, Tyler didn’t seem to notice.

Roommate, roommaid, whatever. I was so in.

He walked us to the door and pushed the button for the elevator. Frederica made small talk with him about any real estate needs that he might have and made sure to pass him her card. I stared straight ahead, ignoring them both because one, I was embarrassed by my aunt using this opportunity to try and grab a new client, and two, I needed to stop staring at him creepily.

I knew I shouldn’t be frustrated with Frederica trying to drum up business. According to my mother, Frederica had made a play for my father, who had instead chosen to marry my mom. Then it was love at first sight when my aunt met Thurston Cottonwood, a man forty years her senior. (My father liked to say it was love at first sight of Thurston’s medical history.) He had a heart condition, more money than even the Bransons, and Frederica expected him to not last long.

Good old Uncle Thurston was now in his nineties, and thanks to his ironclad prenup, when he traded Frederica in for a new twenty-four-year-old model, she walked away with only $1 million. Which she blew through in the first six months.

The prospect of poverty had awoken a savvy and determined businesswoman. She’d become a real estate agent to the wealthy in an attempt to keep something of her former lifestyle intact.

I admired her hustle even if it could be potentially embarrassing.

The doors finally opened and I hurried inside. Frederica was lingering, saying she’d keep in touch with Tyler, and I grabbed her forearm and gently tugged—or, more accurately, forcibly yanked—her into the elevator.

“See you soon!” he said with that smile that made my knees turn into melted butter.

“Yep!” was my clever reply. I forced a smile in return and jabbed repeatedly at the lobby button until the doors closed. When they finally did, I exhaled heavily, leaning over to try and get blood rushing back into my brain.

“Didn’t I tell you? Gorgeous, right?”

I didn’t respond because I wasn’t sure whether she was talking about the man or his penthouse.

“This isn’t a long-term solution,” was what I said instead. “I can’t stay here forever pretending I know how to clean or how to care for his poor traumatized dog.”

“Of course this is temporary. You can save up money and get a decent place of your own. Or Brad could finally pop the question and then you move in with him. And that’s when you call your favorite aunt and let me find you the best home his money can buy. Because I’m sure your boyfriend is not going to be happy about you living with that fine specimen of a man. Jealousy is often a powerful motivator when it comes to engagements.”

Brad’s “jealousy” was the absolute least of my concerns at the moment. Especially since I would never want a man to propose to me solely because I’d managed to make him envious. I wasn’t into the same games my mother and aunt had played when they’d set about getting husbands.

I wanted a man who would love and accept me. Someone who didn’t care about money or who my family was. I knew a guy like that was out there. I also knew that he wasn’t Brad Branson and never would be.

It was time to start a new life with a new roommate, new apartment, and new responsibilities. I was up for the challenge.

At least, I hoped I was.

CHAPTER THREE

The one place I already felt settled in was at my job. My first recess corresponded with Shay’s free period, and I was headed to the teachers’ lounge so that we could catch up. Millstone Academy was a private school that specialized in STEM education and ran from kindergarten all the way up to twelfth grade. I taught the second grade and Shay taught upper-level advanced mathematics. She was also the adviser of the Mathlete team.