“I’m aware.”
She looked over at her place. It was so far…and she was so tired. And maybe a teeny tiny part of her wanted to see what Becket’s place looked like.
She walked inside.
Interesting. Everything looked…normal. Well, normal for a man. A brown leather couch. A wooden coffee table. Black cabinetry in the kitchen, which she’d never been a fan of, but in his kitchen looked sleek.
The door closed behind her. “What are you thinking?”
“You have a nice place.”
“Surprised?”
“A little.” Why exactly, she wasn’t sure. Maybe she’d expected him to have a pinboard with her face on it.
“What happened to the pizza?”
“We picked it up, took one bite each and threw it out. Turns out even alcohol can’t make Burt’s pizza edible.” She looked longingly at the couch. And like her feet had a mind of their own, they just started making their way over there, and she collapsed onto the leather cushion.
Comfortable. Far too comfortable.
She closed her eyes. Immediately, her body relaxed and the room stopped swaying.
“Are you okay?”
His voice was close and deep.
Her eyes opened and, sure enough, he was sitting on the coffee table, right in front of her. She hadn’t even heard him move.
“I’m sorry.” The words were out before she could stop them.
“For what?”
“I’ve been angry, and I’ve been taking it out on you. Don’t get me wrong, you’re an arrogant dick sometimes, but I’ve probably been just as bad.”
He didn’t even crack a smile. Instead, his gaze was intense, almost like he was trying to figure her out. “Why have you been angry?”
He leaned forward and swept a lock of hair from her face. The warmth of his fingers against her skin had the words rolling out of her. “My life is the burnt toast theory.”
“What’s the burnt toast theory?”
“The theory that minor inconveniences or setbacks are blessings in disguise.”
He frowned. “What was your inconvenience or setback?”
“My dog got sick and I didn’t want to leave him, so I called one of the newer employees and asked if she could cover my shift at the dog café.”
“How was that a blessing for you?”
“There was a fire.” She closed her eyes, but nothing could really dull the pain from that day. “Eloise got trapped in the back room and died.”
Becket cursed under his breath.
“I was so angry.” That was an understatement. “Angry at how unfair it was, upset that she had died and so filled with guilt because she was there because of me. It should have been me.”
“Hey.”
She opened her eyes to see him leaning closer.
