Chapter 6

The next morning Cohen stood guard while I dashed inside my apartment to grab a change of clothes and my laptop. We didn’t see the bat, but I was glad to have him with me just the same.

He didn’t have class until later, so I thanked him for the previous night, and he headed back upstairs to make coffee, while I began the twenty-minute walk to campus.

Despite only getting a few hours of sleep and overindulging on wine, I felt more well-rested than I usually did. Cohen’s bed was ridiculously comfortable. And I felt safe with him there. I was used to living alone, but that didn’t mean that occasionally I wasn’t woken in the night by an unknown noise and was unable to get back to sleep. And was he an absolute gentleman—staying on his own side and pretty much ignoring me completely. I’d slept like a baby in Cohen’s bed. Which was strange, since I made it a point not to stay over with guys I slept with. I might fall asleep after sex, but I’d always wake in the middle of the night and slip out of bed unnoticed. Maybe that was why I’d been comfortable staying with Cohen, because we hadn’t been intimate. I shrugged the thought away.

I spent the entire day working in the library on my research paper, only stopping for coffee refills and to grab a sandwich from a deli across the street. By six o’clock I was hungry again and in need of a long, hot soak in my jetted tub.

I secured my laptop bag across my chest and set off for the walk home. I checked my phone for messages again, hoping to have an update from my landlord about the bat situation. I was scrolling through text messages when I collided against something solid. I let out a groan and quickly looked up to see who—or what—I’d run into.

It was Cohen. He was out for a run with that damn dog. Bob. It was panting loudly and wagging its tail.

“Hey, Eliza.” Cohen reached out and steadied my shoulders.

“Liz,” I huffed, righting myself.

“Sorry, Bob got excited when he saw you.” Cohen pulled back on the leash, tightening it to hold the dog back from me.

“No—my fault. I was trying to see if I had any messages from our landlord.”

“Oh, he stopped by today. We couldn’t find the bat, but we sealed up your chimney flue.”

“We?”

“I didn’t have class at the time, so I helped him. You have a really nice place, by the way.”

“Oh, thanks.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds. He looked adorably sexy in his loose-fitting gym shorts and vintage band tee.

“So the bat could still be in there?” I dodged Bob’s overeager advance toward me.

Cohen tugged his leash to keep him in line. Bob sat on the ground at our feet. “Could be. But he probably got out the same way he got in.”

“Okay. Well, thanks. I guess I get to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“Guess so,” he said. I couldn’t help but notice his voice was laced with the slightest bit of disappointment.

When I got home, I did a room-by-room check for the bat, then fed Sugar and Honey Bear who were circling my ankles and meowing eagerly for their dinner. I needed to make myself dinner, but figured a nice hot bath would relax me first. I grabbed a handful of almonds to tide me over and made my way upstairs, munching as I went. I filled the porcelain tub and added my oatmeal lavender bath salts and sank down into the water.

I rested my head against the edge of the tub and breathed in the lavender scent. As the warm water caressed my curves, I couldn’t help my mind from wandering to the apartment above mine and a certain off-limits hottie who resided there, seemingly just out of reach.

My few interactions with him had left me curious and wanting more. I wondered about the girlfriend he spoke of, and about his job as a firefighter. Picturing his buff body dressed in a firemen’s uniform sent a tingle across my skin, and I closed my eyes, sinking further into the water to enjoy my naughty daydream.

After my bath I felt refreshed, busied myself in the kitchen. I loved to cook, but rarely made anything elaborate for myself.

I gathered armfuls of ingredients from the fridge and cabinets while my mind wandered upstairs to Cohen and wondered if he’d eaten. I could cook for him as a thank you for dealing with the bat and sealing up my chimney flue. But I didn’t want to seem too overeager, and I was sure he had better things to do then spend time with me.

I set a pot of water to boil on the stovetop and set the flickering flame to high before dumping in a palmful of sea salt to season the water. I wrestled my seldom-used food processor out from a lower cabinet and added in handfuls of basil leaves and pine nuts, before topping it off with a splash of olive oil and setting it to purée. Once the water was boiling, I dropped in the linguine and set the timer, then popped a frozen loaf of my favorite French bread in the oven to bake.

I’d been unconsciously making enough for two. This was silly; I’d just go up and invite him for dinner.

Halfway up the stairs, I hesitated and stopped. What if his girlfriend was over? Or maybe he already had dinner plans. I didn’t want to sound like I was desperate for company. Maybe I could just ask if he had any plans before bringing up the elaborate dinner waiting for us downstairs.

I shook my head, reminding myself that the first step was seeing if he was even home. I continued up the stairs and when I reached his door, I could hear music playing, and knocked loud enough to be sure he could hear me. A second later, the door swung open.