But maybe I should figure out what I’m doing here instead of musing about interior decorations. I roll over onto my back and find Boen asleep beside me.
Oh. Yeah.
It’s not that Iforgotwhat happened last night, but sleep and the fair amount of alcohol we drank make things fuzzy. And I’m a bit fuzzy right now—both my head and my tongue, which feels like I’ve licked Rusty.
But I’m also pleasantly sore in all the right places, and more relaxed than I have been in a long time.
I smile and start the unwrapping process. Ah. Naked. Not surprising, considering, but where are my clothes?
Something flexes in my chest as I spy the pile of nicely folded clothes on the edge of the chair. I didn’t do that.
When I glance over at Boen, I see my Blue Jays jersey under his sleeping head. He used my shirt while giving me the only cushion in the room.
I have no idea what to do about this.
Should I wake him? It’s a crime to disturb him when he looks so peaceful and downright adorable, with surprisingly long lashes brushing his cheeks.
Boen is full of surprises.
He’s not at all what I expected. Once he loosened up, he became a different person than the one who accosted me about my dog. He relaxed, thanks to Mrs. Gretchen and her magical iced tea, so when it was the two of us, he turned out to be funny and sweet, not to mention a whole lot better looking.
And smart.
I watch him sleep for a minute, thinking of what he confessed to me last night. It doesn’t have to take a doctorate in science to figure out Boen doesn’t talk about himself, and probably rarely opens up to share secrets.
The fact that he toldmemade me warm all over. I have friends who confide in me, and I’ve worked as a bartender which means everyone confides in you, but never before have I made such a connection with someone so fast.
I don’t know him well—yet— but I understand how difficult that must have been for him; his relationship, his project, and his sister, all broken at the same time. From being inside his house, I can tell Boen likes things in order. Structure is good, chaos is bad. He’s a lot like Biba with that. Maybe it’s a science thing.
It’s not a me thing.
My life is controlled chaos on a good day.
As I sit up, shrinking away from the warmth of our little nest, my gaze falls on my phone on the table. Nine thirty-seven.
Rusty!
My poor dog will be crossing his legs by now.
Grabbing my clothes, I pull on my skirt and tank, forgoing the undergarments because Rusty is going to have an accident if I don’t get home soon. I leave the rest, with a silent promise to come back after I’ve seen to my dog. Boen may not know what he’s in for with me, but I’m not about to run away. Last night was a revelation and I’d like to see what today brings.
But first, my dog. I tiptoe to the door, wincing at a loud creak by the stairs, and tempted to explore a bit while he’s still asleep. There’s time for that later, and I quietly open the door.
Thunk.
It sounds like something fell. I jerk back to check, but Boen is still asleep on the floor. The house is silent. I listen for a moment, but when no other noises follow, I shut the door behind me.
I regret leaving as soon as I get back to my place, but Rusty greets me with leaps of joy and I’m reminded that Boen, as much as I enjoyed his kisses, hates my dog.
Both Jam and Marmalade are curled up on the couch, Jam with one eye open, glaring sleepily at me. Like it’s my fault they had to sleepthererather than in bed with me.
“I didn’t sleep in a bed either, Puddy-tat,” I say as I let Rusty out in the backyard. “Suck it up.”
I probably should have left Boen a note. I should have woken him up and kissed him good morning and maybe even stuck around for more than a kiss…
I’ll go back. As soon as I’ve fed everyone, I’ll got back for that kiss. Maybe I’ll brush my teeth first. And maybe I’ll figure out what that thump noise was.
A wave of cold washes over me. What if that thump was Mrs. Gretchen?
