I approach the bedside, and Jesse wraps an arm around my waist, dragging my body on top of his. He weaves his fingers through my hair and presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“You took a shower without me?”
“I didn’t get very clean last night. Wet, yes. But clean? Definitely not.”
“And yet I didn’t hear any complaints.”
The doorbell rings again.
I start to wiggle out from beneath Jesse’s arm, and he tightens his grip.
“Stay with me. They’ll leave the bagels on the porch.”
“And risk the bears after your valiant warning?” I plant a quick kiss on his lips. “I’ll be back in two seconds, and we can have breakfast in bed.”
Extracting myself, I grab the nearest article of clothing from the floor, which is Jesse’s T-shirt. The paint has hardened across the front but at least it isn’t wet.
I descend the stairs two at a time and swing open the front door. The bagels still smell fresh, but instead of a delivery driver clutching the bag, it’s Pooja. My eyes drop to the rolling suitcase and my stomach flip-flops.
Shit. I had completely forgotten she was coming in for the weekend.
She lowers her sunglasses and grins at me. “You didn’t tell me this neighborhood is called the Hideaway. Bit on the nose, don’t you think?”
My lips part, but before I can say anything, she presses on.
“Anyway, I picked up your delivery order at the gate. What’s with the bagels? Are we all eating gluten again?”
Footsteps approach and then I feel the weight of a warm body pressing against my back. Pooja’s eyes glance over my shoulder and her mouth falls open.
“Pooja, it’s not what it looks like.” Her eyes shift from the tall figure behind me to my paint-splattered T-shirt, and then up to my face.
“It looks like you’re banging your painter.”
I press my lips together.Okay, so it’s exactly what it looks like.
I shift my body to make room for Jesse in the doorway.
“Uh, Jesse, this is my best friend, Pooja. And Pooja, this is Jesse, my… carpenter.”
Pooja’s eyes go wide with delight. Her gaze roves over Jesse again, tracing down to the rocky terrain of his bare chest.
“Damn, those abs aren’t even painted on. Do you have representation?”
Jesse’s face flushes. “No, ma’am. Like she said, I’m just a carpenter.”
Pooja snorts. “So were a lot of guys before their first Calvin Klein campaign.”
I clear my throat and step to the side, gesturing for Pooja to come in.
“Pooja, come on in. Jesse, didn’t you say you had to be on another site this afternoon?”
I turn to Jesse and notice that his face has gone hard, unreadable. A moment later, the look passes, and he offers me a closed-off smile.
“Yep. I’d better head out. See you later, Marissa.”
“Well, you seem to have adjusted to Pennsylvania since we last spoke.” Pooja takes a long sip of coffee, eyes dancing playfully over the top of her mug. “Guess you just needed to find your perfect… fit.”
“Pooja.”
