“Andrew?”
He blinked, surprised that she’d snuck up on him without him realizing it. That wasn’t like him. “Yes.”
Paige threw the comforter in her hand at him, then disappeared around the corner again. Sighing, he dropped the heavy blanket on the bed. He opened his bag and pulled a clean shirt out. Then, he felt something soft hit the back of his head. Glancing down, he noticed a pillow on the floor.
“Good night,” she grumbled.
Seconds later, he heard the slam of another door and smiled to himself. Andrew was happy she hadn’t lost her spunk, that she was taking control of her life. He wanted to honor her wishes. But if he walked away now, it would confirm everything she thought about him. In that moment, he realized what his next steps should be. Paige needed to know the full truth. Then he needed to prove to her that he wasn’t like everyone else.
* * *
Paige glanced back at Andrew when he entered the kitchen the following day. She allowed herself a quick perusal of his strong, lean frame before turning back to the task at hand.Coffee.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Morning.” She watched the coffee machine with interest. She’d had a fitful night’s sleep, filled with dreams of Julius and paparazzi and the most beautiful eyes she’d ever peered into. The same eyes that were boring into her now. She didn’t have to turn to know that Andrew was watching her. He’d always paid close attention to her. “Coffee?”
Footsteps neared her and she prayed he stayed a healthy distance away. She’d heard him showering that morning, and had to smack her own hand for imagining the water streaming down his strong back. Seeing him shirtless had been enough to kick-start fantasies that she’d tamped down over the years.
“Sure.” His low voice settled in her gut and inched down to her core.
After last night, after he’d admitted that he had purposely avoided her all those months, she wasn’t sure there was anything left to say to him. Choosing to ignore the warring emotions inside her, she made his cup in silence, adding a dash of hazelnut creamer to it, no sugar. Just how he liked it. She set it in front of him.
Andrew took a sip of the brew and groaned. That groan bypassed her gut and went straight to her core.What the hell is wrong with me?It wasn’t like she’d spent an obsessive amount of time wanting him. Of course, there had been many times when she’d thought . . .what if?For the most part, they’d lived full lives, together yet apart. She’d met his snooty girlfriends and he’d golfed with her past boyfriends.Why is his presence so unnerving now?
“Good,” he told her. “You always did have a way with coffee.”
Paige cursed her rapidly lowering armor. “Thanks.” Her mother had thought of everything coffee-related when she’d sent a care package ahead of Paige’s arrival. Although her uncle left a Keurig, her mother had included a French press along with an assortment of the best dark roast coffee, several mugs, cute stirring spoons, and a variety of creamers. Paige considered herself a coffee connoisseur. Her mood determined which type of coffee she drank every day. Whether it was cold brew or hot, Colombian or Jamaica Blue Mountain, lattes or macchiatos, there was always time for coffee.
“I can’t wait to try out the French press,” she added.
He smirked. “I remember when you bought your first one.”
Paige dropped her gaze, unable to stop the smile that formed across her lips. “That was so awful.”
When Paige had purchased her first house, one of the things she’d chosen to buy was a super-expensive French press. And she’d tried it out on Andrew. Unfortunately, she didn’t really know what she was doing and made several mistakes in her quest to master it.
The first batch, she’d made the water too hot. On her second try, she’d brewed it too long. The coffee was so bitter she’d spit it out—on his shoes. It took a bit more trial and error before she’d made the perfect cup. And Andrew was right there the entire time.
“Maybe the first couple of times,” he agreed. “But you didn’t give up until you made a damn good cup of coffee.”
Paige met his gaze again. “Drew, I—”
“I have to—”
They both laughed, and he gestured for her to go ahead.
“No, you go,” she said.
“I’m sorry, Paige.”
She gripped her throat. “What?” she whispered.
He cleared his throat, pinned her with those eyes. So intense, so sincere. “I’m so sorry.”
Those three words latched on to her heart. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, to slow her heartbeat. “For what?”
“For hurting you. I never meant to hurt you, Paige. I never wanted to be the man who made you feel like you didn’t matter.”
