Page 14 of His to Love
They were both tall, masculine, and broad-shouldered. I had no idea what Tyson had been up to since college, but I could tell by the way he moved and spoke that he was successful.
And his body said he didn’t miss very many bowls of Wheaties.
“I’d offer you coffee, but you should probably go.”
He grinned and walked straight up to me, taking my mug right out of my hands. His hand engulfed the simple black mug and I watched, slack-jawed, as he brought it to his lips and took a sip. He curved his lips over the rim of the mug and all I could think was,lucky freaking cup.
“Kicking me out so soon?”
“I need to go. Things to do today.”
Surrendering the mug for good when he took another sip, I reached for another and poured my own cup.
“What’d your dad want?” he asked, and leaned his hip against the counter.
It was unfair that he looked so good after just waking up. His clothes were even unwrinkled, like he had taken the time to iron them while he was hiding out in my room.
Which I was grateful for. World War III didn’t need to happen in my hotel room. Besides, cleaning up blood and guts was messy.
But it was a seriously cruel joke that Tyson could wake up and look completely put together, while I still felt like a complete wreck, from my messed-up hair to the wrinkled robe and faded yoga pants. Even my toenail polish was chipped.
“Nothing.” I shook my head and moved to the kitchen table. “Just to welcome me home.”
To remind me to go visit my dying mom. As if that wasn’t the whole reason I was home, anyway.
I slumped in my chair and stared out the windows in the living room. Detroit wasn’t a pretty city. Certainly nothing like Eleanor’s farm in Colorado, where there was always the beauty of mountains and air that smelled so fresh you could practically feel it feeding your lungs. In Detroit, everything was loud and muggy. The humidity was horrendous and the smog from the automobile plants seemed to leave a film over the city that refused to burn away even on the brightest and hottest days of summer.
Tyson slipped into the chair across from me, coffee mug again pressed to his lips. His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed, and I couldn’t pull my focus away from his dark eyes. Or his tanned skin. Or his muscles. Or…pretty much anything about him.
For the second time I thought about how absolutely perfect he was. Physically, anyway.
I couldn’t be around him right then. I was too raw from the visit from my dad and the reminder of why I came to town in the first place. As long as my dad was around, the only thing I had to give Tyson was some torrid affair where we still had to hide and slink around in the darkness.
I was tired of hiding. And I wouldn’t ask for Tyson to do it again, either.
“Aren’t you going?” I asked, arching a brow. My foot began tapping a staccato rhythm on the carpeted floor.
He returned the look. “We really need to work on your morning-after manners.”
“I…we…” My teeth clamped closed and I watched him fight a laugh. Scowling, I said, “This is no morning after. I don’t even know why you’re here…or why I let you in.”
“Didn’t have much choice when you passed out in the hallway.”
My eyes widened. “I did not.”
“Did so.” He nodded seriously and set the mug on the table. “You leaned right up against the wall, started singing ‘Roar,’ said it was your new life-anthem or something like that, and then you just sort of…stopped.”
No amount of foundation could have covered up the heat burning on my cheeks. “I didn’t.”
“You did. I have it on video if you’d like to see…” He reached for his back pocket, and I lunged over the table.
“Don’t you dare!”
“Relax.” He laughed and held up his hands, surrendering.
I slid back into my seat. I would have preferred to sink into the floor and forget the last twenty-four hours. A do-over had never sounded like a better idea.
“I didn’t take a video, but your voice needs work.”
