“I guess that makes you a willing victim,” he teases with a bit of a growl.
“I guess it does, Mr. Stalker,” I quip back.
Upstairs, there’s a small landing that opens to a larger loft area. He has it set up as a second family room. There are several Xbox remotes charging in a corner and a giant flat-screen on the wall opposite his black leather sectional. There’s also what looks like a door leading to an outside space. Cas motions for me to follow him into the bedroom.
“The bathroom’s through there,” he points to his left, then spins around the room. “Put your stuff wherever, but that sexy little ass of yours better climb into bed and get some rest.” Cas smirks, obviously waiting for my argument—he knows me so well, and yet it still feels like I know nothing about him.
“I thought you said tour, mister, not a turn-down service for bed,” I tease, giving him exactly the attitude he was waiting for. I shiver, making a brrr sound. “I’m freezing. Before I go to bed, I need a warm shower.”
Cas shakes his head. “I’ll leave you to it. When you’re finished, come downstairs and I’ll make you a cup of tea. We can finish the tour since my little muse isn’t tired yet.”
“That’s better,” I whisper, leaning into him to dust a kiss against his neck, his bearded cheek tickling mine.
I wheel my suitcase into his bathroom and marvel at the modern upgrades. He’s definitely living comfortably. I turn on the water in the large walk-in shower, then gut my luggage in the middle of the bathroom floor. Once I’ve pulled out everything I need, I put it back together and roll it out of the way. There’s a pile of towels on a hanging rack, so I pull one off and set it next to my things on the counter. When I finally step inside the warm water, I allow it to roll over my body and soak into my skin. The heat feels so good after a long tour weekend and the freezing cold we flew into. I take my time washing, enjoying every minute of the warmth.
Afterwards, I dress in my plush, baggy sweats. Despite my earlier complaint of not being tired yet, I could definitely crawl into Cas’s bed and crash now, but he made me tea, and I don’t want to hurt his feelings, so I force myself to turn away from the inviting bed and trudge downstairs to where he’s waiting. He went through a lot of trouble convincing me not to run away from all this. If I can choke down black coffee, a few swallows of tea seems perfectly doable.
At the bottom of the stairs, I step onto the hardwood floor, my fluffy socks pattering against it until I reach the end of the entry hall. It dumps me out into an open-concept kitchen and family room. Cas is standing in the kitchen behind the oversized island. He leans against it effortlessly. His muscles bulge beneath the black long-sleeve band tee he’s wearing. Steam rises from the cups in front of him, crafting a picture perfect scene, or maybe I think Cas wilder is a total hottie and I missed him more than I care to admit. My eyes slide over him for another pass, then stop on the tattoo on his neck. I admire the artwork for a few stolen beats, then drop my gaze pausing when I notice what his shirt says.
“Do you always wear your own T-shirt?” I ask, cocking my head to one side.
He shrugs. “Why not? It’s free advertising. Plus, I like them.”
I shake my head. He’s ridiculously obsessed with himself, and I think it’s cute. I should probably be concerned about how attractive Cas’s confidence is.
He smiles at me, and I melt.
“You look ridiculous,” he scoffs.
“I don’t care. These are my favorite. They’re soft and snuggly. Don’t judge me.” I lift a brow in challenge.
He rolls his eyes. “Come tell me how you like your tea.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t really drink tea. I’m more of a coffee person. Make it how you make yours as long as it isn’t awful and gross.”
This earns me a hard stare. “Not a tea person? You’re a monster. Well, I hope you like bagels, because that’s basically all people eat here.”
“Shut up. I saw several other options on our drive through the city.”
Cas slides me a cup of tea. I eye it warily, then hesitantly bring it to my lips and take a sip. It’s surprisingly good. Warm, spicy, and a little sweet. I take a few more drinks. Cas does the same, watching as I gulp it down. “Maybe I can be a tea person,” I sigh wistfully as I place my cup on the countertop.
“Good girl. I hoped you’d change your mind. So about the bagels—“ he teases, allowing his words to fall off into laughter.
“Who taught you how to make tea?” I ask him casually, searching for something I can learn about him.
His eyes glaze over, and he gets a wistful look in his eyes as he thinks about it. “My grandmother, I guess. I spent a lot of time with her when I was growing up and she always made tea. She was a crazy old bat, obsessed with England and the entire royal family.”
“She sounds lovely,” I reply, lightly squeezing his forearm the way Roxy squeezes my hand for reassurance when we have a deep conversation.
He places both our cups in his empty sink, sliding effortlessly around the kitchen to meet me on the other side of the island. “Downstairs is a quick tour, and there’s nothing but a recording studio in my basement.” Cas leads me into the living room, points to a small office off the living room, mentions another bathroom, and then motions down the hall to a spare bedroom.
“Up to bed then?” I ask, now that his tour is complete.
“Up to bed where I plan to keep you,” he replies.
I follow him upstairs. In his room, he pulls the blankets back, tucks me in, then kisses my forehead. “I’m just going to rinse off too. I’ve been traveling all day, but it was worth it to kidnap you.”
“Okay,” I whisper, biting my lip nervously. I don’t know what to say to that. I can’t just agree with him. If he gets used to beingright all the time—well, I guess it really doesn’t matter. He can’t possibly get any fuller of himself.
