I wanted to protest, but the concern in his eyes shone through so strongly that I found myself nodding. He rolled me off himuntil we were facing each other, sliding his lower arm under my head. “Now go back to sleep, Goldilocks. You were out cold until I woke you.”
“But I swear, I can—”
“My mom always said that rest is the best medicine,” he said, tucking loose hair behind my ear. “Go to sleep. We can pick back up in the morning, okay, Sleeping Beauty?”
I wanted to complain that he was mixing fairy tales, but the protests fell short when he lifted the blanket up to my chin, surrounding me with his warmth and scent. My eyelids felt heavy, and as his hand rubbed my side gently, my body relaxed for what felt like the first time in weeks. I let myself be lulled back to sleep—a gentle transition instead of an exhausted crash, dreaming of kissing him again…
But when I woke up, I was alone in his bed.
I touched his cold pillow and looked around. Was this really Connor’s room, or had I dreamed the whole thing, a hallucination from too many long hours on my feet and too long without sex?
But no, there was his suitcase, and last night’s suit hanging in the closet.
I groaned, flopping my arm over my eyes. Teresa had told me about her new roommate when he moved in last winter—back when I was still in New York, drowning in scandal.
Captain Three-Piece,she’d called him.Best roommate I’ve ever had.You should see his closet—all his suits perfectly pressed. Keeps to himself, a bit closed off… but he cleans the bathroom every week, never lets food go to waste. Honestly, I might never move out.
At the time, I’d looked around Sebastian’s chic SoHo loft—his $3000 espresso machine he’d used twice, that Basquiat print everyone had, his self-important shit everywhere. He’d asked meto move in but I’d had to fight for a few dresser drawers while his vintage camera collection took up an entire shelf.
A man cleaning the bathroom?I’d thought,Goddamn, that would be nice.
A month later, I'd moved out of that loft and back home, tail between my legs.
And then, after three months of facing our parents' criticism, Teresa had called again. “My roommate just texted and said he had to leave town for work with literally no idea when he’ll be back. Want to come live with me?”
She’d barely finished the question before I was tossing clothes in my duffel bag.
The sound of the shower carried in from the bathroom, so I tiptoed out to the kitchen to start breakfast. But as I cracked eggs into the pan, I wondered how I could possibly face the near-stranger whose bed I’d invaded.
Coffee. This would definitely require coffee.
Ihadthepotbrewing and bacon sizzling when Connor padded into the kitchen in jeans and a San Francisco State t-shirt. His hair was still damp, brushed away from his face but loose. No suit jacket, no tie. Just him.
"Morning," I said as I lifted the coffee pot in offering, trying desperately to act like this was normal. At least if we’d had sex, we could have had the morning afterglow—Yes I’ve seen you naked but at least I gave you an orgasm.
"Morning," he nodded, reaching for my favorite mug at the same time I did, our fingertips brushing against the words:I’m silently correcting your grammar.
Wait, no, notmymug. His mug that he’d left behind.
But he released his grip and I filled it for him. He lifted a brow as he took it. “You know you don’t have to make my drinks here.”
Not wanting to feel called out as just a simple service worker, I pulled the flavored creamer out of the fridge. “So if you live here, I guess that means this abomination is yours? You’re a grown man, and you drink peppermint mocha creamer? In August?”
“Peppermint mocha is a year-round necessity, Hannah,” he said, completely serious. “It was always in the fridge growing up, but there are shortages around the holidays, so I stock up in advance.”
“What, so you hoard it like gold bullion?” I teased, shaking the bottle. “If I’d known you had a sweet tooth, I would’ve skipped the Negroni and made you a White Russian.”
Without missing a beat, Connor deadpanned, “Careful. That creamer really ties the room together.”
I blinked in surprise. “…Did you just quoteThe Big Lebowskiat me?”
He used my surprise to his advantage, swiping the peppermint mocha creamer bottle and pouring with a satisfied smirk. “What? You think I popped out of the womb in a three-piece suit?”
I laughed as he lifted the creamer bottle to his ear, shaking it to weigh it. “Seems less full than I left it.” He narrowed his eyes at me, but there was warmth behind it. “And isn’t Teresa lactose intolerant?”
Guilty.
I turned back to the stovetop to flip the eggs, heat rising to my cheeks. “I didn’t know it was yours.”
