Jules Ambrose was trouble. The kind of trouble that came wrapped in a killer smile and a razor-sharp tongue, making it impossible to ignore her even when you wanted to.

You leaned casually against her doorframe, watching her glare at you like you’d just stepped on her cat. She was always so dramatic, and you lived for it. There was something ridiculously satisfying about seeing her get all worked up. It was like a game—a game you were determined to win, even if it meant losing a little of your sanity in the process.

“What do you want, Josh?” she snapped, arms crossed over her chest like she was gearing up for battle.

You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. She made it too easy. “Relax, Red. I’m just here to check on you. Someone’s gotta make sure you’re not burning the place down.”

Her eyes narrowed. God, she was gorgeous when she was mad. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud. Jules with more leverage was a dangerous thing.

“If by burning the place down, you mean staying far away from you, then yes, I’m doing great,” she shot back.

You chuckled, the sound vibrating in your chest. She was quick, you’d give her that. But she didn’t realize you liked the chase. Loved it, actually. Every insult she hurled your way was just more fuel for the fire between both of you.