Gray:
OMG! Did you meet someone?
Focus. Can you take me to get my car or do you have to work?
Gray:
Of course. I don’t have to be at the hospital until 1:00 but you need to explain. Did you meet a guy?
It’s a really long story, and I need a shower and caffeine.
Gray:
No, you need to tell me what happened!
I’ll see you soon.
I put the phone down and turn on the water, ignoring the assault of text messages that are now threatening to make my phone vibrate off the counter. I need to shower. I need to clearmy head, and then I need to come up with a plan. I can’t really live with him. Can I?
I’m feeling a solid thirty percent better after my shower, and I know coffee will help get me to at least fifty percent before Gray arrives. I wrap my hair in my towel, throw on my bra and thong, and head toward the kitchen.
“Morning, roomie,” a deep voice says behind me, causing me to scream and sending me into the air. The towel topples off my head and onto the floor. Spinning around, I find Tanner laying on my couch, shirtless, playing on his phone.
I have no words. Why is he here? I don’t have any memory—shit, we shared an Uber and he walked me to my door, but he didn’t come in. Did he? Well, I guess he must have because I’m staring at his bare chest on my sofa right now.
A wide, goofy grin spreads across his face. Calm down, Wren. This is totally?—
“Special occasion?” he says, the corners of his mouth tipping even more upward.
“What?”
His gaze drops to my tits, and he gestures toward me with his hand. “The red suits you.”
I look down and realize what I’m wearing. Or, rather, what I’m not wearing. My face heats.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I say, bending down to grab the towel. I do my best to cover myself and stomp back to my bedroom as quickly as I can. I hear him laugh behind me.
When I emerge again, I’m fully clothed and ready for breakfast. And in the least surprising turn of events this morning, he’s still here—and still not fully clothed. He’s sitting on the couch, one ankle crossed over his knee, with his abs on full display. A cocky grin is painted across his face.
“I like your cat,” he says.
“My what?”
“Your cat.” He scratches Dolly between the ears. “I didn’t know you had one. What kind is she?”
“A cream point ragdoll. I should’ve mentioned her. You’re not allergic are you?”
“No, I’m definitely not allergic to cats.” He winks at me, and the corners of his mouth tip up. I let out a frustrated breath.
“Can you put on a shirt?”
He flexes his chest and ab muscles. “Why? Are you distracted?”
“Can you be serious for one fucking minute?”
He laughs again, grabbing his white button-up off the other side of the couch. He pulls it on each arm and then stands to button it, slowly.
“Why are you here?” I ask, walking into the kitchen to make my cup of coffee.
