My skin heats, a pleasant rush of energy coursing through me.
Note to self: Next time you want to make a point, consider getting dressed first. Opening the door in nothing but a tiny nightgown is a no-no.
Even though I had him in mind when I bought it in Santa Clara.
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs in a husky voice, slipping his hands into the pockets of his gray sweatpants.
Butterflies erupt in my stomach as I take his words to heart. The mayhem inside me is out of control.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Thanks.”
“So.” He props his shoulder against the doorframe, sending his scent wafting over me. “How about breakfast?”
Tingles rush down my spine. “I’m not hungry.”
As if calling me a liar, my stomach chooses that moment to grumble.Thanks a ton, you traitor.
His lips tip up on one side. “I’m afraid I don’t believe you.”
I press my hands to his naked chest and gently push him back. “Go away. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
The laughter that spills out of his mouth is sinful. It makes my center throb.Ridiculous. Frustrated with him and myself, I close the door in his face.
Already, my patience is hanging on by a thread, and it’s not even 9:00 a.m.
The scent of freshly made coffee greets me halfway down the hall. I pause immediately, checking in with my body, worried I may need to make a run for the bathroom. So far, it’s all good.
Hayden sets a plate of avocado toast on the breakfast bar as I step into the kitchen. He crooks a lopsided grin, assessing me. “Decided to change your clothes?”
“Yeah, that nightgown is only for special occasions…and special people.” I shrug. “I pulled it out of my suitcase by accident last night and was too tired to look for something else.”
He arches a brow. “So…I’m not special?”
You could be. If you weren’t fighting battles I can’t win for you. If you still want me when you find your way out of them.“You’re not.” I climb onto the stool and set my elbows on the counter, resting my chin in my hands.
His lips twist. Then, with a shake of his head, he turns to the coffeepot. “If you’d rather have something other than avocado toast?—”
“This is fine. Thanks.” I take a bite and chew slowly, paying attention to my body’s reaction. I’m still figuring out what triggers my morning sickness. So far, avocado toast seems to be safe.
Hayden sets a mug of coffee in front of me. “How do you feel?”
“I’m fine.”
“No morning sickness? No head spinning?”
“No. I’m fine.” I want to stay mad at him, but he’s making it hard, being so sweet.
“Okay.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Piper never really mentioned morning sickness when she was pregnant with Hudson. Ines, on theother hand? Damn, it was brutal. Owen, the poor guy, had no idea how to help her.”
Suddenly, his eyes glaze over, as if he’s gone somewhere else. I watch him, wondering if he realizes he’s talking to me about his friend for the first time since his death.
“It’s a lottery,” I say quietly. “Some women have it, some don’t. Sometimes, it’s triggered by something specific. Other times, just about anything can bring on a wave of nausea. A friend of mine didn’t have morning sickness, but she had motion sickness. If she even walked too fast during her first trimester, she’d get nauseous.”
His brows shoot up. “Really?”
“Yup. And the girl loved to walk fast, so it was her personal nightmare.”
Head thrown back, he laughs. “I had no idea it could be like that.”
