Oh.
Huh.
She’s beautiful like this, first thing in the morning, sleepy-eyed and adorable.
She blinks and frowns, realizing where she is.
“Sorry.” I clear my throat.
She blinks, half-asleep. “What time is it?”
She’sreallynot a morning person, and it’s adorable. I check my watch, and my heart stops for the second time this morning.
“Not even seven.”
I was going to work out before Bea and the girls downstairs woke. I slept through my alarm? How? I swing my legs over the bed, giving her my back so she doesn’t see how hard I am.
She drags herself out of bed, flattening down her bedhead, not meeting my eyes. “I didn’t mean to, um.” She shifts. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I rub the back of my neck. I don’t want to think about what it means, that I slept well with her in my bed. “I’ll see you at the office?”
We have a quick meeting with Ross before we head out to meet with a prospect.
“Yep. See you there.”
Without another glance, she leaves, and I listen to her tiptoe down the hall and slip out of the house.
CHAPTER 47
TATE
Later that day,Jordan and I stand outside a run-down house on the edge of Carey Colworth’s university campus. I knock on the door but there’s no answer.
“Is this a frat?” I ask. There’s a rumbling sound in the distance.
“It’s a student house with a bunch of hockey players.” Her eyes move over the red Solo cups scattered across the lawn. In the bushes, a pair of legs sticks out. She leans down to inspect the owner of the legs with wary concern. “He’s breathing,” she says, straightening up. “Just sleeping.”
Sleeping, like I slept all night. With Jordan. In my bed. In my arms.
It’s wrong, what we’re doing. She told me very clearly that any feelings I have are one-sided. That she sees me as her boss and some dorky single dad, and that I’m not her type and she has absolutely no interest in me.
So I don’t know what I’m doing. This isn’t like me.
Isn’t it, though?An unwelcome voice of self-reflection says in my head.This is what you do. You get ideas about people and their potential and then you have a hard time letting go.
“Thanks again for watching Bea the other week,” I tell her, trying not to think about what I did after, with her panties wrapped around my fist. “I appreciate it.”
“Anytime.” She shrugs. “Honestly. She’s great.”
“Yeah. She is.” I snag on her words. “Do you want kids?” I ask for some reason.
Her gaze widens a fraction. “Um. No.”
Well. There you go.
I knock on the door again, pulling my attention back to the task at hand. The rumbling gets louder.
“Do we have the time right? Maybe there’s another...” She trails off. “Uh.”
