“I like those odds.”
“Me too.” She finishes half the sandwich, then asks, “What do you think?”
Her hair has started to dry, the strands forming soft curls around her shoulders. “I think you’re a fascinating woman.”
Her cheeks pinken under the bright lights of the kitchen, and she looks down with a smile that holds plenty of secrets. Angling to the side, she whispers, “I meant about the sandwich.”
“Best I ever had.” I catch her attention, and that smile grows as if I’m in on those secrets with her.
Wrapping the other half of the sandwich in the napkin, she sets it aside and starts to close the container. “I think I’m ready to go back upstairs.” She puts it in the fridge and closes it behind her. “How do you feel?”
No way am I leaving food behind. I finish the sandwich, still thinking about what she said. Some of it’s starting to make sense, which has me rethinking things. I push that aside, though. I don’t want to waste this night stuck in my head when I have a much better offer at hand. I nod to the door. “Ready when you are.”
CHAPTER 4
Lauralee
“Shouldwe stay up or go to bed?” I ask as if we do this all the time, as if . . . we’re a couple who’s had dinner, watched TV, and hung out together like it’s normal. We’re not, but oddly, it feels comfortable in a similar way.
Not that I know firsthand.
I’ve had boyfriends, but nothing that got to the living together stage.
“Definitely bed.” After releasing a big yawn, he rubs his eyes and towels off again. We’re both in dry, cozy clothes—me in a cropped and fitted tank top that matches a pair of pajama shorts and him in another pair of boxer briefs. Charcoal gray this time. I can’t imagine he brought many pairs since he’s only visiting for the weekend.
I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I don’t so much as get toothpaste on the bristles when another appears at my side, ready to be loaded. Yeah, this is feeling very couple-y all of a sudden. But it doesn’t bother me.
Maybe because it’s Baylor, and I’ve known him for solong. But I didn’t expect to go from barely acquaintances to brushing our teeth together. That’s quite a leap.
The swoosh of bristles fills the void in conversation, and a shy smile crosses Baylor’s lips when we accidentally make eye contact in the mirror. I smile, too, because this is weird and fun and kind of wonderful in its own way. Sure, he’s got this whole player act down to a T, but sharing this with him, like the sandwich downstairs, and even when I held the ice pack to his head earlier, gives me glimpses of what’s convinced me is the real him. Maybe he’s found in the quieter moments versus the boisterous ones he’s known for. There’s an appeal to both sides, but I’m becoming partial to this one.
I rinse my mouth and step aside from the sink for him to do the same. Swiping a layer of balm over my lips, I watch this man, all fit and cut, hard and handsome, funny, and he knows how to charm. I know that much. Would I kiss him, though? It’s not the worst thought in the world. I bet he’s a great kisser and even better with his hands.
We silently move around each other as if the habits of our nighttime routine have already set in. He steps out for me to finish up, then we swap places. I twist my damp hair up in a scrunchie, already knowing it will be unruly in the morning. I’ll deal with it then.
The lamp on the other nightstand provides an ambience that two friends wouldn’t typically need when going to bed. It’s noted he made an effort to turn off the harsh overhead light while I was in the bathroom.
I smile as I slip under the covers and lie back on my freshly fluffed pillow. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to woo me. But I’m not falling into a trap of mushy feelings at this hour. I was lucky enough to get a few hours’sleep before he showed up, but that doesn’t mean my heart and mind won’t play tricks on me.
The door opens, and I look over.
I don’t mean to stare, but damn.I’m definitely inspired.He makes it easy to forget my better senses. “Hi,” I say for no other reason than to distract him from my gawking.
He slips into bed next to me and looks over. His smile is relaxed but genuine, his eyes showing signs of needing sleep by how the lids are starting to hang a bit, but something in the blues makes me feel like he’s right where he wants to be. “Hi, how are you?”
My smile grows. He’s always been handsome, but something about seeing him so relaxed and at ease in his skin is special. “I’m good. How about you, Greene?” I ask, not as tired as I thought I was now that he’s here.
He hums and lies back, his eyes redirecting to the ceiling. “I’m . . . why does this feel like we do it all the time?”
It’s got to be the hour. Who has the energy for pretenses at four o’clock? “Do what exactly?” Twisting my lips to the side, I try my best to restrain the smirk that wants to come out to play.
I sense he’s on to me when he chuckles. “Do you always flirt with men who break into your apartment at ungodly hours and get in your bed, or am I the lucky guy?”
Am I flirting with him?
Maybe . . .
“What? I can’t have some fun in this extremely awkward situation?”
