Esme Fournier has a quiet suburban house, an open kitchen with too many windows, and a husband who is almost never home. Micah Bishop is the specialty courier who keeps getting assigned to her door. Preference logged. No substitutions.

What starts as another sealed crate on the marble island becomes a deliberate detour: open windows, unlocked doors, the risk of neighbors walking past while she takes the driver on the counter, the couch, the back seat of her own car. She is married. She stopped the pills. She wants him to fill her while her husband is on the other side of the world—and she wants the chance someone might see.

Micah knows the job, the schedule, the chance of getting caught. He takes the stop anyway. Again. And again. Breeding talk, public risk, and the slow certainty that the route has rewritten itself around one address.

She stays. The windows stay open. The preference holds.