I groan as I wash their scents from my skin, a mix of relief and… disappointment coursing through me.
Despite being squeaky clean a few minutes later, I can’t wash them away entirely. My clothes are still layered with their individual scents, making it hard not to think about how good they made me feel. This is when I’d usually call my friends and get a pep talk from the Stellas, but in my rush to leave, I left my phone downstairs.
“You can do this!” I hype myself up, mustering up the courage to leave the bathroom. “Now or never.”
I fling the door open with vigor, and it slams into a hard object. Oops.
Jagger rubs his shoulder. “Ouch.”
Why did I push it open so forcefully? He looks like total shit—well, as shitty as someone who may be one of the sexiest guys on the planet can look. Dark shadows ring his eyes, his hair is extra messy, and he’s still wearing last night’s crinkled clothes.
“Morning, Del.” His voice is slightly hoarse.
I throw my shoulders back, choosing to ignore the fact that I almost knocked him out as I nod in cold acknowledgement. “Jagger.”
“I made breakfast.” His strained, thin smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s waiting for you downstairs.” He turns to head back into what I presume is his bedroom. “I’ll stay here so I don’t bother you while you’re eating.”
Just because I didn’t want him to join me during my heat spike doesn’t mean I want to be held responsible for him starving.
I let out a deep sigh. “Have you already eaten?”
“I…” His stomach gurgles loudly, answering my question. “I can eat later.”
“You need to eat too.” I cross my arms, unable to ignore my caretaking instincts. “This is your house.”
“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” He doesn’t move, his eyes on the floor. “I want to respect your wishes.”
“And you can by eating your food on the other side of the table,” I snap.
“Just sitting at the same table as you will make my entire week.”
I fight to stop the corners of my mouth from twitching into a smile. Ugh. A few words from him can turn my insides to mush, which is so wrong. How can I ever trust Jagger means what he says again?
He gestures for me to go down first, waiting until I’ve taken a few steps before following to keep his distance.
“Wow…” I declare when I see the spread across the dining table.
It looks like he bought the contents of an entire bakery.
Beyond the table, Nash stands behind an ironing board, frowning as he tries to steam the wrinkles out of a well-worn plaid shirt. His muscled torso instantly has me salivating, so Ipretend to look inside more of the unmistakable pink boxes from Springflour Bakery before he notices. They’re much safer to look at than the ripped alpha who cares about housekeeping.
My eyes land on golden flaked deliciousness. “Are those…?”
“Dora’s special almond croissants.” Jagger beams proudly. “Yep. I warmed them up, so they should be the perfect temperature to eat.”
Heavy footsteps clomp down the stairs. “Something smells good!” Tae joins us, shaking his hair like a wet dog and spraying water everywhere. “These look unreal. Great job, Jag.” Tae eyes an almond croissant then goes to grab one, but Jagger slaps his hand away.
“Ladies first,” Jagger scolds him, pulling out a chair for me.
I harrumph in disapproval, but I’m too hungry to point out that I can do it myself.
“These are the best.” I virtually inhale the croissant, sending pastry flakes flying across the table.
Going through a heat spike drains your body’s energy, so I need to refuel.
Jagger sets a green smoothie in front of me. “You should hydrate. I also have some key lime pie, if you’d like a slice?”
The croissants were a fluke, but green smoothies and the pie too? I eye him in suspicion. “You seem to have picked up all of my favorites.”
