“I didn’t know your mother was Polish.”
He holds my eyes in thought. “Is there much you do know about me?”
It never occurred to me how easy it was for me to picture Baylor’s family a certain way. His father is the head of the underworld—because, naturally, Baylor is the spawn of Satan. He has a fiery torch and everything. And I guess I always thought his mother was absent, like Jesse’s are, because I’ve only ever heard him reference his dad in conversation.
I think I just put him into a certain category based on the few things I do know about him and the way he’s treated me. The fact that he is getting me to doubt my judgment on him with one simple question irritates me. I don’t need to know anything about his personal life to rationalize why I don’t like him. It certainly wouldn’t excuse his actions toward me over the last couple of years.
The thoughts spiral in my head, and I shake them away.
“Why didn’t you leave with everyone earlier?” I demand rather than ask.
There’s a hint of amusement on his face that he tries to hide by biting his lower lip. “I overslept.”
“And they didn’t wake you?”
“No.” He laughs. “Henry might be a softy for you, but he’s not the most patient or considerate. Besides, it was nice to get some beauty sleep in.”
He stretches, and my eyes wander down his trimmed torso without thought. He catches me lingering on a rather mouthwatering area below his waistline, and he clears his throat, fixing me with a heated stare.
“You’re going to have to stop fucking me with your eyes, Penny, or I’m going to think you want something from me.”
My mouth snaps shut at the same time my eyes bulge in Marta’s direction. I start to shake my head. “I wasn’t—”
“Relax.Eye-fuckingisn’t in her vocabulary. At least, I don’t think it is.” He scrunches his nose in a teasing way.
Marta turns and sets my hot plate down with an expression that says she’s none the wiser, and my shoulders relax.
“You’re so … annoying.”
“That’s the best you’ve got today?”
“It’s too early. Can I eat my breakfast in peace, please?”
“Suit yourself.”
Marta hands him his omelet, and he grins widely, showing off his gleaming white smile.
“I still think a good lay would do you some good. I’ll be around. Let me know if your appetite changes,” he adds with a smug little wink before disappearing from the kitchen.
When I look back down at my cheesy mushroom and onion omelet, I’m suddenly famished, and I devour it in no time. After breakfast, I take a quick shower, style my hair with some waves, and put on a slouchy sweater dress my mom gifted me. It feels like a giant blanket and is perfect for curling up on the couch in Henry’s theater room.
Marta is kind enough to let me pop my own popcorn when I pass through the kitchen to grab snacks. To no surprise, Henry has a large inventory of his favorite popcorn, which, coincidentally, is my favorite too. I make two bags in case he comes back from skiing early and wants to join me.
By the time the opening credits begin on my first Hallmark movie, I’m settled into the center cushion of the most comfortable couch I’ve ever sat on.
“This could be dangerous,” I tell myself as I wiggle deeper into the pillows and shovel popcorn into my mouth.
“What is?”
A chill runs up my spine at the sound of his voice. Maybe if I don’t say anything and I keep real still, he’ll go away.
The couch dips beside me, and I have to stretch my neck to see over the pillow. Welp. So much for that theory.
“What are we watching?” Baylor chirps.
I shake my head. This isn’t happening. “Nope.”
He reaches for my popcorn and manages to grab a handful before I can pull it away. “What do you mean?”
