Wren’s next appointment with Sophie wasn’t for another week, which felt like a thousand years away. She desperately needed someone to explain why one kiss from Grayson had turned her world upside down. Sophie had a way of helping her understand her feelings, which she sure as shit needed right now, considering she was so confused.
A knock sounded. “Lark?” Grayson opened the door just a crack. “You decent?”
She was still buried underneath the blankets. She quickly finger combed her hair, which was probably a disaster. “Yeah.”
He walked in with two cups of coffee in his hands. His gaze locked on her, and something hot flashed behind his eyes before his mouth curved lazily. That look hit her like a physical touch. “Morning.”
She cleared her throat. “Morning.”
For a second, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with the memory of that kiss. And with the temptation to do it all over again.
Grayson crossed the room, holding out the coffee cup. “Grabbed these from the lobby downstairs. Tastes like shit, but I figure it’ll hold us until we find a decent coffee shop.”
Despite her nervousness, she laughed. “Thanks.” Their fingers brushed and her body reacted. Hard. From just that one tiny touch.
His eyes darkened slightly, and she knew he’d felt it too.
Wren wrapped both hands around the paper cup so he wouldn’t notice them shaking.
“Sleep okay?” he asked.
It took all she had not to snort. She’d spent most of the remaining hours replaying his kiss while regretting her overreaction, and the rest fantasizing about rolling over and asking him to kiss her again.
Her “seriously” expression must have been answer enough, because Grayson barked out a loud laugh. For the life of her, Wren couldn’t understand why Lark thought this man was grumpy.
“I’ll take that as a no,” he replied, studying her face carefully enough that her nerves skittered. Then she noticed that while she felt like she’d gone twenty rounds with a heavyweight champ, he looked wide awake and ready to take on the world.
“I hate you a little for looking so perky and alert.”
He chuckled. “Little bird, mornings are my time.”
“Ugh. Morning people. So annoying,” she groaned. Her breathing hitched when he reached over to ruffle her hair playfully. Between that and the term of endearment that she fucking loved, her stomach did a triple somersault.
“I didn’t sleep much either,” he admitted.
Something in his tone made her glance at him.
The silence stretched, but it wasn’t as awkward as she might have expected. Instead, it felt charged and dangerous. Because they’d crossed a line last night. One she wasn’t sure how to uncross.
No, one she wasn’t sure she wanted to uncross.
Even though she had to.
The problem was the way he was looking at her. No one had ever looked at her like that. Like she was something he wanted. Like she was precious and tempting.
Her chest tightened when she remembered why this couldn’t happen. She was lying to him. He thought she was Lark.
Every smile and conversation had been built on a lie. And Lark’s future at Stormy Weather Farm depended on her keeping up the act. Guilt twisted through her hard enough to make her nauseous.
She took a sip of the coffee and winced at the bitterness. “Wow. You weren’t kidding.”
“Told you so.”
“It tastes burned,” she said, putting the cup down on the nightstand.
“I think they filtered it through an old gym sock…ten years ago.”
She giggled. Actually giggled.
