Sophie

The door clicked shut behind me with that same tired groan it always made, like the house itself was exhausted too. I dropped my keys in the bowl by the door and shrugged off my jacket. The day had dragged—paperwork, traffic, the usual slow grind—and I was ready to collapse.

But something felt... off. Not wrong, exactly. Just different. There was music playing faintly upstairs—low, rhythmic, something sultry—and I definitely hadn’t left that on this morning. I kicked off my shoes and climbed the stairs, the scent of vanilla and coconut growing stronger with each step. My bedroom door was ajar, warm light spilling into the hallway. I pushed it open.

And there she was.

Sophie lay stretched across the bed like some kind of daydream—propped on one elbow, legs crossed, a lazy, wicked smile curling her lips. Her white bikini caught the light like a dare, skin glowing, hair tousled just enough to look effortless.

“Hey, stranger,” she said, her voice like heat rising off pavement. “Rough day?”

I blinked, then laughed, shaking my head. “I—uh—might need you to repeat that. I think my brain just short-circuited.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Well, good. That was the goal.”

I stepped closer, the exhaustion slipping off me like a coat. “I was going to ask if this was some kind of welcome-home surprise, but... I think I already know the answer.”

Her smile deepened. “Depends. You planning on just standing there all night?”

I didn’t need a second invitation.