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“You may call me Troy, if you must.” She could focus even less when he pushed away from the cabinet and strode to stand in front of her, so close one of the stray droplets dripping from his wet black hair splattered her nose. His posture didn’t threaten her—he kept his shoulders relaxed, his hands loose at his sides. But the way he ate up her personal space, and the glint of cut emerald in his mossy eyes, said her body wasn’t wrong when a shiver racked her spine. “And what is your name?” he—Troy—asked in turn. “I’m Lily,” she said, too busy telling her feet not to retreat. It seemed important, holding her ground. Like it might set the tone for them going forward. Like his help, or her answers, would be harder to come by if she scrambled away from him to hide in a corner. “Lily Boyd,” she added when he said nothing for a heartbeat too long. Another laugh. More of a chuckle this time, the puff of air felt against her forehead rather than heard. “Such delicious naivete,” he said. “It truly is, is it not? Lily Boyd.” Click Below to Continue Reading for FREE on Kindle Unlimited!