Hayden appears in pajama pants and a plain white T-shirt, his dark hair rumpled from sleep.
For a moment, I forget how to speak.
Somehow, he looks even sexier than he did in the gray sweatpants. Less guarded. Less armored. More…human.
“Jemmy’s still sleeping,” he explains quietly, stepping aside to allow me to enter. “Didn’t want the doorbell to wake him.”
“What time does he start to stir?” I whisper back, following him into the kitchen after sliding off my sneakers.
“Usually between seven and seven-thirty. So anytime now.”
“And Presley?”
“She likes to get up early on school days to drawbefore breakfast. She’s pretty good at entertaining herself, though.”
As if summoned by her name, Presley pads into the kitchen, carrying a sketchpad. Her eyes light up when she sees me.
“Morning, Presley,” I say softly.
She smiles in greeting.
“What would you like for breakfast?” I ask. “I can make anything you want. Pancakes?”
She nods enthusiastically.
“Plain?” I offer.
She scowls.
“Okay. Definitely not plain. Blueberry?”
She scrunches her nose in disgust.
“Chocolate chip?”
Her expression brightens.
“Chocolate chip pancakes it is,” I declare.
“Why don’t I show you where you’ll be staying before you get started?” Hayden interjects before shifting his attention toward Presley. “Five more minutes, okay?”
She nods and slides into her chair, already flipping open her sketchpad.
He gives me a quick tour of the bedrooms, playroom, and living spaces before leading me down a hallway off the living room that’s secluded from the rest of the house.
“This is your space,” he states, leading me into a small living area with a couch and two chairs.
It’s a little drab and boring, but nothing a few accentpillows and art pieces can’t fix. Even better, there’s a kitchenette. To most it would seem small, but for someone who’s used to cooking on a hot plate, this is like heaven.
And there’s a separate bedroom with a queen-sized bed that doesn’t need to be folded into a bench seat every day.
“If there’s anything you need, just let me know,” he offers.
“I’ve been living in a van for months. This is like a five-star hotel.”
“Right,” he says, like he’s still trying to wrap his head around my unusual living arrangement. “What made?—”
The sound of Jemmy’s babbling from the baby monitor in his hand cuts him off.
