Noelle’s brother was not staying here. I had already said it twice.
“His roof leaks,” Noelle said, shoving a sweater into a bag that was already too full. “What do you want him to do, sleep in a puddle? He’s annoying. He’s not contagious.”
“He walks around without a shirt.”
“That is not a housing violation.”
“It is when I pay half the rent.”
The knock hit before she could answer. Two taps, then the door opened like he had never learned to wait. Cassian Vale stepped in with a duffel and rain on his shoulders, and my argument died in my mouth.
I hated him for it. Not the staying. The face. All clean angles, jaw, mouth, the kind of build that made a damp T-shirt look deliberate. If someone had told me God made men equal, I would have told them to look at this one and try again. He was o
