Page 120 of Bad Run

“I didn’t say you wouldn’t, but I wanted to take care of you. Spoil you with junk food. Are you cool with that?”

“I’m cool with that.” Hiding her smile, Gwen leans over the table, checking everything out. Again, unadulterated pride fills me as she pokes at a box of donuts.

I could preen like a peacock right now because she totally likes her period presents.

“I know you like fancy donuts, but when in a pinch, store-bought never hurt anyone.”

She looks up at me with watery aqua eyes and grins. “I love them. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If you need anything else, just let me know.” I pull out my phone and check the time. Shit. It’s close to midnight. I don’t want to leave, but I have to. I don’t want to push her. “I better get home.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” she asks, placing her bag of fries on the table.

I shrug. “It’s late.”

“Exactly.” She stands from her seat, shifting from foot to foot. “And it’s too dark.”

“I’ll be fine.” I wrap my arms around her shoulders, giving her a hug, and press a kiss on her forehead.

Her arms encircle my waist as she mumbles, “Stay,” into my chest.

I tilt her head back, making sure I heard her correctly. “What?”

“Stay. I hate the thought of you driving all the way home this late at night.” She looks up at me with her pretty eyes, and there is no way I can leave.

“Are you sure?” I don’t mean to second-guess her, but the last thing I want is for her to feel pressure. Do I want to stay? Of course, but only when she’s ready.

“I’m sure.”

Fuck yes!

“Good. I didn’t really want to go.” I grab her wrist and drag her toward the flamingo-pink, pillow-covered love seat.

She bursts out laughing. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you rest. Now sit.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Taylor.” She plops down on the couch.

I can feel her eyes on me as I toe off my shoes by the door, place my phone, wallet, and keys on the small entry table, and grab as many supplies as I can in one trip.

Eyeing the sofa, I frown. “We are going to have to work on the seating situation.”

“I wasn’t expecting a six-five professional baseball player to come by and hang out at my apartment.”

“I don’t know if I should be happy or annoyed by that statement.”

Gwen rolls her eyes as she stands. “I’ll show you a secret. Step back.”

“Of course, milady.” I bow, making her giggle.

I watch as she places a hundred pillows on the floor and tugs at the backrest. The cushions extend, and her tiny couch transforms into a decent-sized bed.

“You don’t sleep here, do you?”

Gwen barks a laugh. “Don’t worry. I have an actual bedroom with a queen bed.”

“Thank fuck for that,” I grumble. This piece of fluff doesn’t look like the best for sleeping on all night.