“Just got up.” He chugs down bottled water, his gaze never leaving mine.
Watching his tan, inked throat move with each swallow, conscious of how sexy he is with his tousled dark hair and shadow of scruff on his face, I wipe drool from the side of my mouth, rub the sleep from my eyes, and finger-comb the tangles in my hair.
Bobby sets down the bottled water. “You’re gorgeous, beautiful.”
I smile. He’s generous with his compliments.
“Sleep okay?”
“I did.” I’ve never felt so rested on less than four hours of sleep.
I sit up and bring the phone with me as I get ready for work, starting with brushing my teeth and washing my face after I’ve used the toilet, out of sight from Bobby and with my phone muted. I give him the same courtesy before we get on camera again.
“Should I let you go so you can get ready?” He stands and pushes the chair out of the way.
Bobby is on the move, bringing his phone and me with him. I’m still stuck on seeing the chair. “You slept at the desk? I thought there’d be a couch, a chaise, or something for you to crash on.”
“A chair beats the ground any day.”
“Is this from experience?”
“Something like that.”
“I still feel bad,” I admit.
“What for?”
“For not insisting you call a rideshare. A chair isn’t a substitute for a bed.”
“It wasn’t a hardship. Not when I had the chance to take in your angelic face.”
I scrunch my face. “I’m not an angel.” Only my father calls me that, and his version is different from everyone else’s.
“Didn’t say you are. I said angelic face. Big difference.”
“How?”
“A woman can come off as an angel but be a monster underneath.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Something like that.”
“Will that be your answer every time I ask?”
“I don’t live in the past.”
I take a play from his playbook and answer, “Duly noted.”
He ducks his head, but not before I catch a glimpse of his closed-mouth grin.
“What is a monster to you?” I’m curious.
“A liar, cheater, and manipulator.” A dark shadow crosses his face, then disappears when I blink. “You’re none of that.”
“You have a lot of faith in someone you barely know.” I set the phone on my white makeup table in the guest bathroom and apply a thin layer of mascara. Gage pays a larger portion of rent, so he gets the master bedroom and bath.
“Are you saying my read on you is wrong?” His stare on the other side of the phone screen is intense, like he’s searching my face for signs that he might’ve missed previously.
