Then I had a mortifying thought… Had he put me to bed?
I lifted the sheets to see that I was still in the same shirt from last night, no pants, just panties. I wracked my throbbing brain for how I got to bed. I distinctly remembered fighting with my jeans and tossing them across the room before collapsing into the bed without so much as brushing my teeth.
Okay, so I’d at least put myself to bed.
I ran my tongue over my teeth with a grimace. Dental health was very important to me, so I was horrified I didn’t floss or brush. That was my first goal.
My head thumped when I moved in bed.
No, my first goal was painkillers and water. Which Beau had brought in for me. While I was passed out.
I tried my best to shove that thought from my aching brain. Except that was all I thought about as I drank the water, swallowed the pills, and slowly made my way to the bathroom. It was all I thought about as I brushed my teeth, staring at the smudged mascara and mess of hair. All I thought about as I washed my face and got dressed.
I couldn’t make sense of it, all of Beau’s contradictory behavior. Or why it mattered so much to me. I was angry at myself for not being strong enough to write him off as an asshole and sayfuck what he thinks.
It was because the magnetism between us was undeniable. The first day I met him, I felt it. A tingle over my skin, a jump in my heartbeat when he looked at me.
I’d thought it was all one-sided, the attraction. I’d told myself the hungry looks I’d caught from Beau were in my head. Or because he was horny, and I was the closest warm female body. Fleeting hungry looks were one thing, but him catching me last night? Him bringing me water and painkillers while I slept? What could I call that?
I tentatively crept into the kitchen, lured only by the smell of bacon and my growling stomach threatening to rebel unless I fed it grease and carbs imminently.
I was treated to a familiar sight—Beau’s broad, muscled back working at the stove. I briefly entertained a universe where I woke up to that every morning. For the rest of my life. Beau cooking, Clara sleeping. Us being a family.
“Sit.” Beau barked out the command without looking back.
My completely inappropriate fantasies disappeared.
“How do you do that?” I asked, my voice scratchy. “Do you have, like, grumpy secret powers or something?”
I hadn’t intended to ask that question; I was thinking it. Heat raced to my cheeks. Maybe I was still drunk.
Beau turned to regard me over his shoulder, flashing me an impassive expression and a quirked brow. Not overly hostile, but not quite amused either.
“Can see your reflection.” He tapped the microwave directly above the stove.
I looked from him to the microwave, the warmth in my cheeks traveling down my neck.
Of course, he couldn’tsenseme. That didn’t happen in real life.
With my proverbial tail between my legs, I skulked to the breakfast bar, even though my body was craving caffeine.
There was a steaming mug in front of me before I even got my ass in the chair. I looked from the mug to Beau.
“Thank you.” I sounded timid. Which I was, barely able to meet his eyes.
He lingered, gaze locking with mine. “You’re welcome.” No grunt, no scowl. He wasn’t exactly treating me with a beaming smile or radiating warmth, yet I felt the change, from my fingertips to my toes.
I told myself it was because of the coffee mug I was cupping. Nothing else.
I forced myself not to physically react at the way Beau held my gaze. “You drank the water?”
I nodded, unable to form words.
“All of it?” he probed, voice still rough. It grated over my skin, but not in an entirely unpleasant way.
I nodded again.
He seemed to be satisfied with that, turning his back to me to attend to the bacon that was making my mouth water, although I was still unsure whether my stomach was able to actually digest any kind of food.
