The morning light filters through a window I don’t recognize. The ceiling’s too high. The sheets are too soft. I’m in a room with an antique dresser and a fresh glass of water on the nightstand.
I’m still in Duke’s house.
I’m waking up in his home, and I didn’t brush my teeth last night. I’ve always brushed before I come over for the night, but ugh, what if Jameson’s breath is somehow fresher than mine?Maybe I can sneak out. Hopefully, Duke’s already gone and he won’t see the untamed madness that is my hair.
My last scruffy mountain-grown boyfriend smelled like stale weed and campfire twenty-four seven, so me not brushing my teeth if we were hiking through the wilderness never bothered him. But Duke seems to always look so good. He smells like fresh soap even when he comes back from a long day with dirt smudged on his face. Now, waking up in his house, I’m overwhelmed by wanting to look good and smell good for him too.
What the hell is happening to me?
I must leave immediately. I slip out of bed hoping I can make it down the hall before he?—
“Mornin’.” The word leaves his mouth like a slow roll of thunder.
I freeze. Duke’s standing in the doorway, a coffee mug in hand. If rugged Colorado charm were a weapon, Duke Faraday would be a walking open-carry violation.
I immediately start to comb through my hair. “Oh, uh, good morning.”
“How did you sleep?” he asks as he crosses the room and hands me the cup in his hand. “Hope Jameson didn’t bother you too much. I couldn’t get him out of here.”
He plops down on the bed and scratches Jameson. I sink back into the bed, unable to hide my smile. Playing house with this man is dangerous, but I suddenly want to savor this moment. Waking up to him … in a way. Greeting the dog, drinking coffee on a soft bed.
Could it always be like this?
“Thank you for letting me sleep up here,” I say. “It was definitely more comfortable than waking up to my arm numb from falling asleep at the desk.”
“Well, you were snoring like Jameson’s long-lost cousin so Ithought I’d carry you up here so you didn’t wake the rest of the ranch.”
My mouth drops open. “I’m not sure I’m awake enough for this type of character assassination.”
“I’m just foolin’. I was actually hoping that Jameson didn’t keep you awake with his nightly sounds.”
I rub Jameson’s head. “He was a perfect gentleman.”
“Anytime.” He blurts out as his eyes soften. “Uh, I mean, you can stay here, anytime. When you’re too tired … the guest room’s yours.”
I gulp. Of course, it makes sense. Instead of going back and forth, I can stay here where the Wi-Fi is strong and the temptation of the man sleeping down the hall is even stronger. This is a horrible idea, which is why I seriously consider it.
“I really appreciate it, as long as my being here doesn’t bother you in any way.”
Good. Yes. Give him a chance to take it back.
“Nope.”
I guess that’s an answer.
“I’ve made some breakfast if you’re hungry.”
Damn this man. Bringing me coffee and now making me breakfast? This is obviously a trap to get me to never leave, which is why I accept and go downstairs. He sets a lovely plate in front of me—eggs, sliced avocado, sausage, and caramelized Palisade peaches.
“This is amazing,” I say between bites. “I don’t understand though … you’re a yoga instructor, you know how to cook, you’re Mr. Fix-It, a lounge singer … how are you not married with ten kids?”
“Ten kids?” He flashes a quick smile.
“Unless … Mary-Kate …”
“Uh, no. Well, we went on a couple dates a long time ago, butI realized right away that she wasn’t for me. Now, she’s just a friend. Anyway, when I started this ranch, I knew I wanted to throw myself into any and all activities that might help others. I could always carry a tune, but it was Rusty who taught me how to fix anything. Topper found a yoga teacher from Denver studio who was able to help me get certified, and though Thatcher helped me refine some skills, I really learned to cook from my mother.”
“I hope I can someday compliment her on what a fine son she raised. Will she be back before the end of summer?”
