Chapter 168 No Strings Attached

• The knock was too soft and almost too hesitant. I opened my door to find Hart standing in the drizzle, with hair plastered to his forehead. He was clutching a still-warm loaf of banana bread wrapped in a checkered towel. The porch light cut his face in half; one side was pale and gleaming, and the other was lost in shadow. Rain dripped from the ends of his lashes.
• “What are you doing?” I frowned at the uninvited visitor at my door. He had been a constant since this week, and it was grating on my damned nerves.
• “You looked tired when I saw you this afternoon,” Hart murmured as he lifted the towel towards me. “So I thought you would appreciate something like this.”