Chapter 3

Chapter Three

B ella

The knock is sharp, commanding. For a second, I freeze, my fingers resting on the edge of the kitchen counter. This is it—the electrician. Just a job. No big deal. But I can already feel my nerves tightening.

I swipe a hand down my blouse, smoothing out invisible wrinkles as I approach the door. With one last deep breath, I swing it open.

And then promptly forget how to breathe.

He's massive. Tall and built like the side of a mountain, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, a toolbox casually slung over one arm like it weighs nothing. His hair's a little too long, curling just at his collar, and his blue eyes lock onto mine with a smirk that says he's already figured me out in the first five seconds.

"Well, damn," he drawls, voice rich and slow, "Looks like I didn't get the memo that I'd be fixing wiring for a goddess today."

I blink, totally caught off guard. My pulse kicks up, and I suddenly feel ridiculous standing here in my cute-but-impractical heeled boots. "I—uh—" My brain scrambles to reboot. "Bella," I manage, trying to sound composed. "I'm Bella. You must be Archer Steele?"

"That's me," he says, his gaze trailing down my body like a casual inspection before meeting my eyes again. "So, Bella... what's the problem? Electrical issues, or did you just need an excuse to get me over here?"

I stare at him, half-laughing, half-tempted to slam the door shut. "It's definitely the wiring," I say, folding my arms, trying to regain some semblance of control.

He grins wider. "Right. Wiring. Let me take a look."

I step aside, watching as he strides into the foyer, and for a second, I swear the room shrinks around him. He glances around, taking in the peeling wallpaper and crumbling plaster. "This place has seen better days," he comments, smirk still in place. "But I'm guessing it has a lot of hidden potential. Kind of like its owner."

I can't help it. I laugh. "You're smooth. I'll give you that."

"Just calling it how I see it." He sets his toolbox down with a solid thunk and turns to face me fully. He's closer now, too close, and I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. The playful gleam in them hasn't dimmed. If anything, it's sharper.

"Well, don't get too comfortable," I shoot back, doing my best to sound unfazed. "You're here to fix the wiring, not charm me into some mountain fantasy."

His eyebrows lift, a slow, teasing smile creeping over his face. "Who says I can't do both?"

I swallow, heat crawling up my neck. The way he's looking at me, like we're having two entirely different conversations, is making it hard to focus. "The wiring," I say, desperate to steer this back to safe territory. I turn, forcing some distance between us. "It's back here."

Archer follows, his boots heavy on the creaking floor, every step amplifying the tension in the air. I stop by the fuse box, pointing at the chaotic tangle of wires. "See? Total disaster."

He steps in close, too close. His arm brushes mine as he leans in to inspect the box, and I swear my entire body lights up from that brief contact.

"Looks like a mess," he says, his voice low, "but nothing I can't handle."

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. "Good. Because I don't think this place—or me, for that matter—can handle another failure."

He chuckles, the sound deep and rumbling, sending a jolt of something dangerously warm through me. "I think you're tougher than you look."

I snap my gaze to his, not sure whether to take that as a compliment or a challenge. "You don't know anything about me."

His eyes lock on mine, intense and unwavering. "I know enough. I know you like to act like you're in control, but the second I walked in, I saw your thighs shift. Your chest rose higher, and you couldn't look away." He steps closer, the air between us charged. "You're curious."

I freeze, heart pounding in my chest. "Excuse me?"

"Am I wrong?" His grin turns downright wicked, clearly enjoying the way I'm squirming under his gaze.

The worst part? He's not wrong. I don't even have a proper comeback because my brain's too scrambled from the way his presence invades my space, the way his voice dips low like we're sharing a secret.

"I don't know what you think you saw," I manage, trying to summon some kind of defense. "But?—"

"Yeah, you do." He steps even closer, until his chest is almost brushing mine. "And I'm not complaining. Trust me."

My pulse kicks up another notch. His proximity, his words—it's like he's daring me to acknowledge what's happening between us. This pull. This heat.

"You're impossible," I mutter, more to myself than him, but he hears it.

"Not impossible," he counters, his voice a low rumble that rolls over my skin like a caress. "Just direct. Life's short, Bella. No sense wasting time pretending we don't both feel this."

The way he says my name—it feels like a challenge. Like he's waiting for me to make a move, to either push him away or pull him in.

I break eye contact first, desperately trying to regain some control. "You're here to fix the wiring," I say, but the words come out softer than I intend. "Not flirt."

"Why can't I do both?" He repeats, that infuriating grin still in place.

My brain is at war with my body. Part of me wants to shut this down, to stop him from getting under my skin, but the other part—the part that's tired of always being in control—wants to see just how far this banter can go.

But I need to focus. "Just... get to work," I say, taking a step back. "I've got other things to deal with."

He doesn't move right away. He just stands there, watching me like he's still waiting for something. Then, finally, he turns back to the fuse box, his focus shifting to the wires, though I can still feel the playful edge to his movements.

"Let's get to work then," he says, crouching down, his voice carrying a promise. "For now."

I watch him work, my mind still buzzing from the intensity of the exchange. I can't tear my eyes away from the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt, the easy confidence in the way he handles the tools.

This man is trouble. I knew it the second he walked in the door.

But damn if I don't like it.