I blow out a breath, shoving down the heat that tries to surface again at the memories.
Don’t be a fucking idiot, I tell myself firmly.Get your shit together.
I meant what I said to Kat last night. Every word of it. I’m not looking for anything real, no matter how drawn to her I am or how hungrily my body responds to her. Love, or even a long-term relationship, aren’t in my future. I learned my lesson with Alexis. I’m not cut out for love, for trusting someone with that much of myself again. And knowing that fact about myself means I need to not act on my attraction to Kat, no matter how strong it gets.
Because Idolike her. More than I should. I’ve grown protective of her in a way I didn’t see coming and definitely didn’t plan for. And I don’t want to do anything that could hurt her when this inevitably ends. She deserves better than some washed-up hockey player who doesn’t believe in happily ever afters.
Kat starts to stir beside me, making a small sound in her throat, and I slip out of bed as she comes more awake, giving her some space. Givingmyselfspace too before I forget all the very good reasons why letting the attraction between us go further would be a bad idea.
I grab my phone off the nightstand and check it as she stretches, scanning through a few emails I missed. Honestly, I barely read them, but I keep scrolling through my phone anyway as I try not to watch Kat sit up, try not to notice how her nightgown has shifted in her sleep.
“Morning,” she murmurs.
“Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Really well, actually.” She pushes her hair back from her face, a note of surprise in her words. “Better than I have in a while. You?”
“Yeah. Good.” I realize as I say it that it’s true. I slept better than I have in weeks. No tossing and turning, no waking up at three in the morning with my brain churning over everything that’s been going wrong with my life. But I’m not going to think too hard about why. Not going to admit, even to myself, that maybe it’s because I was sleeping next to her.
Shooting me a quick glance before averting her gaze from my bare chest, she gets up and pads over to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”
She disappears inside and closes the door behind her, and a moment later I hear the water start. I try really hard not to picture her in there, wet and naked, water running over her skin, but I’m pretty sure I fail completely.
When she comes out about fifteen minutes later, her hair damp and her skin flushed from the hot water, she’s back in the green dress from last night. I head in to take my own shower, letting the water run cold at the end to clear my head.
By the time I’m done and dressed in my suit from yesterday, Kat is sitting on the edge of the bed looking at her phone. We’re both way too dressed up for a Sunday morning, and I glance down at myself wryly, thinking that if I was a bit overdressed last night, I’mextremelyoverdressed now, especially in a small town like Maplewood.
“We look ridiculous,” she says with a laugh, clearly thinking the same thing. She gestures at our outfits. “Like we’re going to a wedding at eight in the morning.”
“Speak for yourself. I look great.” I shoot her a smirk and adjust my tie in the mirror, trying to get back to the cadence of our usual banter.
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Of course you do.”
“Should we head down?” I ask, not wanting to linger in this bedroom any longer than necessary. Too many memories from last night.
“Yeah. My grandma is definitely up already. She’s probably been cooking since dawn.” Kat stands, smoothing down her dress. “I’m sure she wasn’t kidding about making a big breakfast. She never kids about food. It’s like her primary way of showing love.”
I chuckle at that. “Good. I’m starving.”
We head downstairs together, the old wooden steps creaking under our feet. The house smells incredible, like bacon and coffee and something baking. My stomach growls in response, reminding me I didn’t eat much last night between being distracted at the party and everything that happened after.
Sure enough, Beverly has the dining room table loaded with food. There are scrambled eggs in a big serving bowl, crispy bacon, and fresh biscuits with little wisps of steam still rising from them. A coffee pot sits on the table too, along with a pitcher of orange juice. Kat wasn’t kidding about food being her love language.
“Good morning, you two!” Beverly beams at us from the doorway to the kitchen, looking so fresh and energetic that it’s hard to believe she hosted a huge party last night. “Did you have a good night? Sleep well?”
Kat’s cheeks immediately go pink. “Uh, yeah. Very well. Thank you so much for letting us stay. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“Nonsense. It was my pleasure.” Beverly waves off the thanks. “Now sit, sit. Let me get you some coffee.”
We settle into our chairs, and I’m scooping some eggs onto my plate when Daniel walks in. I have to work to keep the smirk off my face when I catch sight of him. He looks absolutelywrecked. Hair sticking up a little on one side, circles under his eyes dark enough to see from across the room, and a general rumpled appearance that screams ‘rough night.’
Good. Mission fucking accomplished.
“Morning, Daniel,” Beverly says, her tone noticeably cooler than it was with us. “Coffee?”
“Please,” he mutters, dropping into a chair across from me without meeting anyone’s eyes.
Beverly pours him a cup and loads him up a plate of food before serving herself some too. She’s telling us about the biscuit recipe and how it’s been in her family for generations when she pauses mid-sentence.
