Before I can say that I got this, I feel Rhy’s front pressed up against my back, and my breath hitches.Does he have to be so close?
Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Especially do not lean back against him or press my ass into his crotch.
“This work?” Rhy holds out a mug with one hand for me, while shuffling mugs around closer to the edge before grabbing one for himself and stepping back away from me.
“Uh-huh.” I squeeze my eyes shut, completely embarrassed at the high octave of my voice just then.
When I finally have the nerve to reopen my eyes, I catch Rhyland smirking out of the corner of my eye as he now leans against the counter.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” I say, popping a coffee pod into the machine and then pressing Start.
“Nah.” He runs his hands over his face. “I’m always up this early on Sundays. I don’t think my body would let me sleep in, even if I tried.”
Of course, when he mentions his body, my eyes are like a magnet, drawn to the bare skin of his chest and abs.
The coffee machine hisses when it’s finished filling my cup, and it’s like a bell alerting me I’ve ogled this man for too long. Adding a bit of creamer to my mug, I step to the side so that Rhyland can fix his cup.
It’s then that I’m finally aware of my attire—cotton sleep shorts, which I know my ass hangs out of, and a flimsy tankwithout a bra. I guess I’ve been alone most mornings, so I didn’t even think of putting a bra on. I grip my mug tighter to not only keep myself from reaching out to him but also to hide my nipples from view.
“Where’s Princess?”
A smile spreads across my face at the nickname he gave Gabby.
“She’s still sleeping, but she should be up soon. I was just down here taking advantage of the quiet to get a coffee and her bottle.”
Right, a bottle. That damn man with his hot bod has me all sorts of distracted.
Rhy walks over to the kitchen table and takes a seat while I work on Gabby’s bottle. “So, what is it you do on Sundays to wake up this early?”
“On Sundays, I go to the farmer’s market to scope out what we might have for the restaurant. You know I like to keep the kitchen local and sustainable.”
I freeze and spin to face him, needing to see his face when I ask my next question. “You do thateverySunday?”
“Yeah.”
“But last Sunday, you—”
“So maybe not every Sunday.”
I furrow my brows. “Rhyland, besides last week, when was the last Sunday you skipped out on the market?” I cross my arms. “And don’t you dare try to lie to me, mister.”
His slow swallow reveals the truth without saying anything.
I throw my head back and groan. “Ugh, why didn’t you tell me that? I could’ve moved all by myself or gotten my brothers to help. Or, shit, you didn’t have to spend the day with me unpacking and all. You could have left after we got my stuff moved or just done all this around your schedule.”
I’m in such a flustered state that I didn’t notice Rhyland get up and round the corner until I feel his warm palm cupping my cheek. “Payton, calm down before you give yourself an aneurysm.”
I laugh awkwardly, but there is nothing really funny about this. Gabby and I already disrupted his life moving in here, but now to learn we disrupted his schedule, too? No wonder he’s been avoiding me.
“And relax. Did I not go to the farmer’s market last Sunday for the first time in a long time? Correct. But just like I said, it was right where I wanted to be. Okay?” He’s since brought his other hand to cup the other side of my cheek, and I might pass out from the tension surrounding us.
If we were living in a movie, this would be when he leans in and kisses me, breathing new life into me.
I may have misread the moment from the other night, but there is no way I’m misreading this one. Morning and coffee breath be damned. I want this man to kiss me.
“Okay?” he repeats, and with the help of his hands holding my face, I nod up and down before giggling.
“Okay,” I say.
