A serious, nice guy.
That’s me.
Neither of which I would change, honestly.
But it puts me in the friend zone.
And sleeping on the couch.
Chapter Six
Winnie
When I wake up I have the classic “where am I?” reaction. For a brief, delicious moment I think I’m in my own apartment after my first night in my new town.
Only that would mean somehow the moving fairies unloaded my truck, set up all my furniture, and used their wings to fly me there and tuck me under the covers.
Which would have been amazing, but didn’t happen.
My apartment is sitting cold and empty still.
I’m in Ian’s bed.
In his comfortable, if a little un-lived in looking, house.
I do a hangover check by turning my head left and right. Not too bad. Sitting up, I chug the water he left for me on the nightstand and stretch. While Barrel snoozes away, I glance around the bedroom.
It looks like a short-term rental. Bedding from a bag. Matching furniture. A few framed prints on the wall of generic landscapes. It’s very clean and the bed was comfortable but there isn’t any soul to Ian’s bedroom.
Downstairs, Ian is sleeping on the couch still, his arm over his eyes to block the emerging sun. The blanket has slipped down and he’s sleeping shirtless. My mouth goes dry and it’s not from last night’s mint juleps.
Ian obviously finds time to hit the gym. His abs are so chiseled I want to just trail my tongue down the outline and right to his…
I cough a little as warmth seeps through my entire body, settling between my legs. Even my hair feels hot.
And it’s not just the way he looks. If he’s a workout guy, then we have something in common, right? Something more than the nothing I thought we had in common last night.
Realizing I’m just standing there staring at him, I tiptoe past before I accidentally wake him up.
Barrel has no such reservations. Without warning he does a flying leap.
“Barrel, no?—
“Oof!” Ian jerks awake as Barrel lands on his stomach.
“Sorry! Barrel, down!”
Barrel ignores me. We’ve only been together six months and I’ve been putting training off until he felt comfortable with me. I’m pretty sure he’s the most comfortable dog I’ve ever met so I really should devote some time to training because he does not listen.
“He’s fine,” Ian says, voice gravelly and grumpy and oh-so-sexy. “Are you going somewhere?”
Morning voice.
It’s my kryptonite.
As is a man who genuinely likes my dog.
“Going for a run. I was going to put Barrel in my apartment and grab my running shoes.”
