Chapter Twenty-Five
Fin
Iwakefor the second time today, the sound of the shower narrowing my options to two choices as far as I can tell. Option one is a repeat of last time: leave before he returns, probably all dripping wet and gorgeous, pretending I don’t have intimate knowledge of this man.
Option two is to behave like a grown up: wait until he returns, all dripping wet and gorgeous. Be civil, though resist him, and tell him this can’t possibly happen again.
The second is the most sane option, though the first is more tempting. As it happens, I don’t get to choose. I’m drawing up a mental pro and con list as he walks back into the room. Not dripping wet, but slightly damp, though still gorgeous, and pulling his blue t-shirt over his chest.
‘Want to head into the village for breakfast? There’s a café there, yeah?’
The blue in his shirt brings out the darker tones in his eyes, I notice, as he unceremoniously plunks himself onto the mattress next to my thigh.
‘You lost your voice?’
‘What?’ My eyes snap back to his face and to the suggestion of a knowing smile lingering there.
‘Or maybe you’re not hungry. For food.’
‘No. I am. I mean I’ve got to get back.’ I can’t move, not with any element of elegance or grace, because he’s blocking the way. Short of turning my back to him and rolling myself—and the sheet—out of the opposite side of the bed, I’m kinda stuck.
‘To your other job at the hair place?’
‘Yeah—wait. Just how do you know about that?’
‘I may be shameless but I’m not daft,’ he says, his expression now bland. ‘Did you really think I didn’t recognise you in the bar the other night?’
I can feel my mouth is open and close it with a snap. ‘I thought with my hair—’ My words come out in a rush because he sure didn’t recognise me without blue hair. ‘So you knew? All along?’ Though not exactly everything.
‘Yeah, but I was following your cues, titch. Playin’ along. You didn’t want to see me again, did you?’ As I shake my head, he says, ‘Well then.’ He adds a small shrug before trailing the back of his hand up my leg. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again, but don’t stress. I’ve no stalking plans.’
‘That wasn’t why.’
‘Whatever makes you comfortable. I’m an obliging sort of man.’ The innuendo in his words makes my cheeks burn. God, this is so awkward. ‘So, it’s a second job?’
‘What? Oh. Sort of. Not really. I’m just helping out.’
He nods as though understanding, though how can he, really? ‘And you’ve no time for breakfast?’ His large warm hand stills on my thigh. Absorbing the motion, I eventually remember to shake my head. ‘Lunch then.’
‘Sorry,’ I say, shaking it again.
‘Dinner? You’ve got to eat dinner,’ he says, giving me the full weight of his lazy grin, more parts sexy than indolent.
‘Look, this has been nice and all—’
‘Oh, the brush off,’ he says with a hard laugh. ‘At least you hung around this time, I suppose.’
‘No, it’s not like that,’ I begin.
‘No drama, hen,’ he says with a dismissive wave on his hand.
‘I think I panicked. It had been such a long time—’ I stop, teetering on the point of overshare.
‘I’m offering you a meal, not a trip down the altar, titch.’ His smile is wide and kind, and at the use of that God awful name, I feel my body relax.Strange.‘Besides, it looks like I’ll be here all weekend.’
‘Really?’ How worrying, though I don’t think this is the reason my heart jolts.
‘I’d be glad of the company. I’ll be eating later, if you can join me, great. No strings. Just lots of eatin’,’ he adds roguishly.
