“Your coffee’s getting cold,” I manage, my voice a rough scrape.
She blinks, glancing down at the mug in her hands as if she’d forgotten it existed. “Right. Coffee.”
I take my own mug, needing the distraction. The coffee is good. Perfect, as always.
But then, without warning, Zoe holds out her mug to me. “Try mine.”
I stare at the offered cup. At her hand wrapped around it. At the expectation in her eyes.
I take it, our fingers brushing again before I bring the mug to my lips and taste.
It’s... surprisingly good. Really good. Different from mine, but delicious in its own way. Not what I expected.
Not what I expected at all.
“Now you,” I say, offering my own mug in return.
She takes it, her eyes never leaving mine as she sips. I watch her throat work as she swallows, the way her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks.
“Oh,” she says, surprise coloring her voice. “That’s... that’s really good.”
“So is yours,” I admit.
We stand there, holding each other’s mugs.
“Maybe,” she says slowly, a small smile forming, “there’s room for both methods.”
“Maybe,” I agree, unable to stop my own lips from curving up at the corners.
She sets my mug down on the counter, taking hers back from my hands. “I should... get ready for the day.”
I nod, watching as she turns to leave. But halfway down the hallway, she pauses, looking back over her shoulder.
“Same time tomorrow?” she asks, and there’s something in her eyes that makes my heart beat faster.
“Same time,” I confirm.
She smiles, a real smile that reaches her eyes, then disappears down the hallway, leaving me alone in the kitchen with the lingering scent of her and the taste of her coffee on my tongue.
Tomorrow, we’ll do this again.
And maybe next time, I won’t step back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Tristan
“If I have to stare at this ceiling for one more day, I might actually lose my mind.”
I pause in the doorway of the living room, watching as Zoe lies sprawled on the sofa, her head hanging upside down off the edge. She’s been stuck in this penthouse for three days since Forbes dropped his bombshell, and it’s clearly driving her insane.
“You could always count the protein bars again,” I suggest, leaning against the doorframe. “I think you had them in order of fiber content yesterday.”
She lifts her head just enough to glare at me. “Don’t tempt me. I was actually considering alphabetizing them by flavor next.”
“Ambitious.” I step fully into the room, tugging on a jacket. “But maybe save that excitement for tomorrow. I’ve got something better.”
“Unless it involves leaving this prison, I’m not interested.” She flops back down, staring at the ceiling again.
