​It was supposed to be a temporary fix: a low-rent apartment above a noisy garage. ​It wasn't supposed to involve Rowan Mercer-the quiet, blunt mechanic who communicates in short answers and leaves coffee where you'll find it. Rowan keeps his distance from everyone, but he has a bad habit of noticing when you're home. ​Between engine idling at night and texts neither of you will address, the boundaries are blurring. The problem with getting comfortable around a man who built his life on secrecy is simple: eventually, you start asking questions he can't afford to answer.