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Darcy huffed an errant lock of hair out of her face and wrestled the bike underneath her to twist out of the way. She knocked on the apartment door.
Remy answered it, cracking the door open just far enough she could see the smirk in his eyes before giving her a once over…and then swinging the door open wide.
“What in the-?” he started.
“Don’t ask,” she snapped, still trying to catch her breath. Stupid hunk had to live up flights of stairs. And anyway who thought stairs were a good idea to invent in the first place?
“Cherie,” he said, grin growing without even an attempt at burying it. “You know I gotta. We goin’ for a ride, sweetheart?”
Darcy glared down at the bike she was straddling. “Clint put super glue on the seat so unless I was planning on walking up past Old Lady Jefferson’s door with no pants, I was stuck.”
Remy’s eyebrows rose up nearly to his hairline. “How in the hell did you get up the stairs?”
“Don’t. Ask,” she repeated. “Just let me in.”
His grin grew wider even as his eyes did too. Gorgeous prick couldn’t even fake innocence properly. “But I got so many questions.”
“Remmyyy,” she whined, trying and failing to bounce on her toes and nearly crashing into the doorframe for it. “Just lemme in! I promise to reenact the trip as soon as I get my pants off.”
He snorted and stood back for her to pass, muttering under his breath, “But I’ll be so distracted by then.”