His Temporary Assistant

My phone kept buzzing in my hand as more notifications rolled in.

I gulped in huge lungfuls of oxygen, trying to calm the panic threatening to drop me on my ass.

You can do this.

You will not pass out right outside your apartment building like a chick with the vapors.

I forced slow breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth until the world stopped tilting.

Finally, my chest eased enough for me to stand up straight—and then I noticed a silver Airstream parked on the side of my building.

I glanced up at the sky. “Are you kidding me?”

Maybe it was another Airstream. Retro was trendy these days, right?

The tail end of the rust-pocked vehicle was partially obscured by trees, but an airbrushed rainbow-colored peace sign with the initials RM drawn in bubble letters was like a neon arrow.

Of all the days for my mother to come into town.

Would she notice me sneaking inside? Maybe I could pretend I wasn’t home.

I crept up the stairs, only to find the door unlocked and my hide-a-key missing. I sighed as I slipped inside. My shower was running, and my mother’s off-key singing floated out into my apartment.

A massive sack of laundry sat in the middle of my kitchen, half of the contents spilling out in front of my oven. A plethora of tie-dye shirts and yoga pants could not be contained.

Rainbow Moon had arrived.

She’d had me when she was barely eighteen. Her music of choice was the hair metal channel with a side of nineties grunge to make her a little more well-rounded. She also loved traveling around to music festivals.

My mother, the perpetual groupie. At least when she was between boyfriends.

I was actually shocked she hadn’t leaned into the rockstar thing, but she always said opposites attracted her the most.

Maybe I was more like her than I thought.

I touched the burn on my lip. I’d literally been burned for thinking PMS and I were a good idea. Was that the universe having another laugh at my expense?

Or was it a warning?

I collapsed into my chair at my kitchen table. The residual energy from having PMS in my space made everything feel…different. The room divider that closed off my bedroom area was see-through enough that I could just glimpse the twisted sheets of my bed.

My whole body was still humming from yesterday. I had a healthy relationship with sex. I liked it, embraced it even. I’d had a few lovers over the years, and while it was rare for me to let them in my personal space, it wasn’t completely out of the ordinary.

Preston Shaw was not ordinary.

He was pushy and overwhelming and rigid, but at the same time, he was the most giving lover I’d ever been with. He didn’t make sense.

We didn’t make sense.

It was better if I just cut things off now before either of us got too invested.

And if I’d wanted to believe otherwise, even for a second, here came Rainbow Moon to remind me that opening up meant I’d better prepare for a crash landing.

I was just about to call the office to tell him I wouldn’t be in when my mother came out of the bathroom.

She jumped, slapping her hand over her chest. “Ryan Genevieve Moon, you scared me half to death.”

I winced at the middle name usage. “A little breaking and entering to start your visit, Rainbow?”