“Do you need coffee?”
“I think I need an IV and an ice bath.”
“All I have is ibuprofen and an espresso machine.”
He lifts his hands, rubbing at both his temples. “Why am I in your room?” His voice is deep and rough and laced with sleep and it’s somehow even sexier than normal.
“Why do you think?” His eyes fly open again and he looks at me in alarm. I scoff. “Wow, don’t look so appalled by the idea of sleeping with me.”
“I’m only appalled that I can’t remember any of it.”
Well that answer was . . . oddly endearing. I sigh. “Don’t worry, nothing to remember. You just got so drunk at the bachelor party that you forgot how to get back and got lost on the streets.”
He’s quiet for a moment, likely trying to piece the night back together. “Did I do anything embarrassing last night?”
“Like what?”
“Like confess my undying love for you?”
I smile at the thought. Though he didn’t confess his love, he was very open about his feelings. But that is a secret I am holding close to my heart, because if I remind him he has the chance to challenge it or deny it or take it back, and I’m not prepared to handle any of those reactions.
So instead, I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “You played a lot of Creed.”
“Oh, good.”
“Good? I said Creed.”
“Yeah, I heard you.” I stare at him for a moment. After a beat of silence, he looks at me again. “What? I like Creed. Sue me.”I let out an amused laugh.He throws the blanket back, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. “You don’t like Creed?”
I shrug. “I just haven’t ever really formed an opinion on them, I guess.”
“Well, you should. ‘Higher’ is an incredible song.”
“Not sure I’m familiar,” I say, lifting my coffee cup back to my lips.
Without hesitation, he loudly sings the chorus in his raspy morning voice. “‘Can you take me higher? To the place where I long to be.’” He pauses to do a guitar riff.
“I don’t think those are the words,” I interrupt.
“How would you know?”
“Because you played it six times in a row last night before finally falling asleep.”
“Ahh, so youarefamiliar.”
“Yeah, I just wanted to hear you sing it.”
He laughs, a deep, raspy rumble that has a warmth pooling in my belly. This one I can definitely not blame on the coffee since it’s iced today, so I sit with the unavoidable reality that Reid makes me feel like this. Giddy and nervous and happy and warm.
My mind swirls back to our talk last night, and standing here in his doorway, just the two ofus, it feels like the right time to bring up our conversation. So I draw in a breath for courage, open my mouth, and?—
“Jane!”
And I get interrupted by Kate. As always. I snap my mouth shut, my nostrils flaring as I take a calming breath and turn to face her in the kitchen. She pauses, looking around me into my room. I don’t miss the way her lips press into a hard line.
“Why is Reid in your bed?”
“Because he got too drunk to find his own last night,” I answer nonchalantly.
