“I’m not.”
“Can I come in? I havecof-fee,” I intone.
His groan is loud enough for me to hear. “Fine. Just let me?—”
But it’s too late. I’ve already swung the door open to expose him standing there in nothing but his underwear. He coughs and spins around. “Damn, Daisy. Give me enough time to get some pants on.”
“Oh, sorry,” I squeak, taking the opportunity to admire his butt and the outline of his muscular thighs in those tight boxer briefs while he can’t see me checking him out. “I’ll turn around until you’re ready.”
He glances over his shoulder and scoffs when he catches me biting my lip and still staring him down. “Are you going to look away or what?”
“Yep!” I wince and move to cover my face with my free hand, accidentally sloshing hot coffee over the sides of the mugs. “Oh, son of a biscuit eater! That’s hot!”
“Shit, Daze,” I hear him mutter as he rushes over to take the coffee from me.
“Thanks, and sorry,” I say as I lift the hem of my dress to dry my burning hand.
“Are you okay?”
“Mm-hmm. All good.”
Just, you know, mortified beyond belief. The usual.
I shake my hand out, hoping the air will cool it off, and try my best not to let my eyes wander over to the frontal view of the very well-endowed man standing just—welp, I tried.
He narrows his eyes at me, obviously annoyed with my lack of propriety, then sets the mugs down on his dresser, and I’m reminded of how small his bedroom really is. He takes my arm and leads me to the kitchen sink, where he gently tends to my burns by running them under cool water.
“Better?” he asks.
“Yes, thank you,” I breathe and struggle to keep my eyes on his. Being unable to stop myself from ogling him like a hormonal teenager isn’t helping my case for getting him to see me as a capable adult. I should be able to treat the man with respect and dignity, regardless of the fact that seeing him in his underwear makes mefeellike a hormonal teenager … or an inexperienced virgin … even if I technicallyamthe latter.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his mouth turning up into a smirk. “You still seem … off.”
I blink and pull my hand back. “I … I just … you’re making me kind of nervous,” I blurt out and cringe.
“Why would I make you nervous?” His eyes search mine earnestly, and I know he’s not just flirting. He wants an actual answer.
I shrug shyly. “Well, for starters, I came to your room to tell you that I’m thinking of accepting your proposal.”
“Oh,” he says, his brow rising.
“Yeah.” I pull my hand in and inspect it. An angry, red splotch covers my thumb and part of my wrist. But the burning sensation pales in comparison to the heat radiating from my cheeks. “Although I have a couple of stipulations. Also, I … um, wanted to ask you for another favor.”
“What’s that?”
I swallow hard. “I’ve been feeling a little homesick, and I was really hoping to visit my family this weekend. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you don’t already have plans, do you think you might be able to bring me home, just for a few hours?”
His expression softens. “Yeah. Of course. I’ll just call my mom and see if she’s up for a visit. I doubt she’ll mind if I stop by.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s nothing,” he reassures me with a smile.
“Okay, good, because I was also thinking that if we’re really going to do this, we should probably get to know one another a little better, right? I realize we’re not going to be acting like husband and wife, but I’d rather not wait until our wedding to hear your full name for the first time,” I ramble. “I mean, sure, we’ve known each other for years and have been living together for the past few weeks, but we haven’t really gotten past the surface. So I figured the car ride might give us a chance to fix that.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he agrees more hesitantly.
“And I know you said I should talk less before, but this stuff seems pretty important,” I continue.
