Once I’d grabbed a towel,I managed to sneak out the back and race over to the guesthouse for clothes, and I’d never been more happy to put them on in my life.
Fantastic first impression. Exactly how I wanted to present myself to Hayden. Naked, startled, and confused.
At least I wasn’t too worried about the naked part. I knew I looked good without any clothes on. And he’d been a gentleman about it, keeping his eyes fixed firmly above my collarbones.
Half of me wanted to text Seth right away, but the other half knew I needed to get my ass inside and apologize for the worst first impression ever.
I slipped back in through the mudroom and made my way toward the sound of the unfamiliar voice in the kitchen.
“… keep the fucking couch. Actually, you know what? Take whatever. Take everything. I don’t care, I don’t want your crap in my home. Marissa will let you in. Goodbye, Aaron.”
I poked my head around the door to see Hayden tossing his phone down on the marble bench, wincing as it clattered over the surface and only taking another breath when it stopped short of falling off.
“Asshole,” Hayden muttered, elbows braced on the counter and head falling between them, both hands shoved deep into his hair, right on the verge of pulling on it.
The slump of his shoulders did something to the pit of my stomach.
I hesitated another moment—he clearly hadn’t noticed me—but eventually made my way into the kitchen, making sure my footsteps were loud enough for him to hear.
Hayden straightened up instantly, blinking those ridiculous stormy-grey eyes with equally ridiculous long, dark lashes at me. His hair stuck up where he’d had his fingers in it, making him look like he’d just rolled out of bed.
I barely stopped myself from licking my lips.
“You look like a man who could use a cup of coffee,” I said.
“I would do almost anything for that,” Hayden responded.
Anything?,I didn’t ask. I didn’t know this man. His dad would’ve taken the joke, but I’d been given the impression that he wasn’t like that.
Instead of pushing my luck—I’d screwed up enough for one day—I flicked the coffee maker on and set to work.
“Sugar? Creamer?”
“Lots of both, please,” he said, and I could feel those grey eyes watching me move.
“I’m Wes,” I said.
“You’reWes?” he asked, clearly surprised.
“You know who I am?”
“You’re Dad’s… I dunno what to call you, but I know how highly he thinks of you. I just didn’t expect… I thought you’d be…”
“Taller?” I tried, offering him a smile.
“Older,” he corrected. “The way he talks about you, he makes you sound so competent. I suppose competence isn’t age-limited, I’m sorry. Forget everything I just said.”
“How old do you think I am?” I asked, tapping on the coffee pot.
“Twenty-five? Maybe?”
I blinked at him, then looked down at the faded local band t-shirt I’d thrown on in my haste to be dressed, regardless of what I was wearing.
He was right, I’d probably owned this atleastsince I was twenty-five.
… not that the rest of my wardrobe would necessarily have aged me any.
“You’re exactly two months older than me,” I said. “I mean, our birthdays are on the same date, mine’s just in September.”
