Page 19 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

Her mind activated recap mode: Pub. Club. Kiss. Sex. Bed. Key points that nowhere near encompassed the depth of their night. The laughter. Sincerity. Honesty. His words about settling down with someone special and living boldly within that love held her thoughts until she’d drifted off. Now, as sunlight filtered through the slats of his wooden window blinds, they lingered still.

She sat up, immediately spotting a burnt orange hoodie folded neatly at the foot of the bed. One of Kate’s many life observations sprang to mind.

When a man offers you an article of his clothing, he’s looking to lock it down. Make you his woman. It’s like the opposite of Dobby in Harry Potter.

Natalie unfolded the garment, discovering the iconic Texas Longhorns logo on the front. She pulled it over her head. It smelled of lavender and lemon, and all but swallowed her five-foot-six frame. As she rolled the cuffs back, she laughed. Pop would disown me if he knew I was wearing this. Speaking of, I can’t forget to call him later. Where the heck is my phone?

She’d barely registered these thoughts when she spied her phone on the bedside table, resting quietly on a charging station. Her gaze then fell on her clothes, folded as neatly as the hoodie had been and stacked on an oversized chair in the corner, along with her purse. No sign of her boots though. Her heart melted like their uneaten pints of ice cream, still on the tray on his side of the bed.

Wow. In our two years together, I never saw Roman fold a single item of his own, let alone mine.

My God, this man is …

A text from Kate interrupted her thoughts.

Kate: Wellness check! You haven’t moved location. If you’re alive, please check in.

Natalie snapped a selfie, complete with the Hook ‘Em, Horns hand sign.

Kate: If your father ever catches wind of this. Also, DOBBY!!!

Natalie: Lol same thought! On both counts! What are you doing up?

Kate: Had to let Roscoe out to pee. What time’s your flight?

Natalie: 5:30. Heading back to the hotel soon.

Kate: CALL ME! I want every sordid detail

Natalie: Duh!

In his bathroom, she found more touches of his thoughtfulness on display. Clean towels. A fresh toothbrush and travel-size tube of toothpaste. A small bottle of ibuprofen. A couple of pre-moistened make-up remover pads stamped with the British Airways logo. After one look in the mirror, finding smears of mascara beneath each eye, Natalie reached for those first. While she brushed her teeth, she ran through a mental checklist.

Double-check flight status. Finish packing. Get passport and jewelry from my room safe. Text Emma and check on Little George.

There was one glaring omission. Say goodbye to Mr. Crown.

Barefoot and pant-less, Natalie moved through his apartment, snack tray in hand, silently rehearsing exit lines.

Thanks for a great night.

I had a wonderful time.

I’m glad it was you to end my sexual sabbatical.

If only we’d met earlier …

She found him in the kitchen, standing at the professional-grade cooktop with his back to her, softly humming that one Willie tune. For a few beats, she stood and watched him, dressed in the same robe as before and cooking up a Texas-size omelet.

“If you have a jalapeno pepper back there, I’ll have one of those with mine,” she said, repeating the first words she’d ever heard him speak.

He whipped around at the sound of her voice. “Hey. Good morning. Nice sweatshirt.”

His bright and cheerful tone matched his expression. Clearly, he had zero regrets about their slumber party.

“Good morning,” she said with equal cheer. “And thank you.”

“Coffee?”