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And god, when he runs his hands through it, it ends up perfectly disheveled, like a model playing a mechanic—pretty and dirty all at once.
Which is Sebastian to a tee.
Clearly, he didn’t plan on crashing here, because he’sstill in his denim and button-down. The entire length of each sleeve is pulled tight, overriding my higher brain function and cruelly hiding his tattoos from sight.
Everything about him straddles the line between clean-cut and rough-me-up. In this moment, I realize that my memory paled in comparison to the real deal. Even in sleep, he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.
Quietly, I slip his jacket off my shoulders and drape it over him. Then I slip under the blanket.
One day down, ninety-nine to go.
After five years of ghostwriting, my savings account is at a number that terrifies me, but what truly scares me is what I’m about to do.
Yes, I’ve made it here, but there’s so much I don’t know. Where I’m going to live. How long I’ll be in Elmsford before I can return to my real life. And how the hell I’m going to finish my book.
If only there was a guide, a tell-all—hell, I’d take a bat signal. Someone who can help me.
I came home because I wanted a safe harbor, but all I feel is adrift.
2
SEBASTIAN
Coffeeand lilac are the first things that register when I wake up, and I know immediately that Bee is back. I’d know that perfume anywhere.
She’s home.
Aiden hasn’t been able to keep the smile off his face all week. Meanwhile, I’ve been carefully avoiding my own feelings on the subject.
As I peel myself off the couch, my jacket falls to the floor. Interesting. I definitely don’t remember having it with me when I crashed last night. Checking the mattress beside the couch, all I find is the blanket scrunched up in disarray.
Following the smell of coffee, I enter the kitchen and stop short, because holy fucking hell.
I’ve never seen Bee wear anything like this before.
It’s a good thing I relinquished the blanket last night, because that crop top and red mini couldn’t keep a weevil warm, no matter how well it shows off her sinfully goodlegs. This isn’t her usual getup, but it doesn’t stop her from looking drop-dead gorgeous.
Nothing would.
I could probably pull my brain cells back together—or stop the blood from rushing south—if she wasn’t also singing softly to herself and circling her hips to an unheard beat.
“Morning.”
Bee jolts and turns. A faint flush tinges her cheeks. “Hey, you’re up.”
It takes a few seconds, but I blockade the filthy route my brain wants to take. Dear fucking god, I’m not awake enough to see her in fishnets.
Seeing her as anything more than Aiden’s little sister is still a shock to me. Hell, she was only eighteen when we met. Too young to even cross my radar. It wasn’t until her last visit that things changed.
And right now, it’s kind of fucking me up.
I slip onto a stool. “You slept okay?”
She nods.
“I’m sure he told you already, but Aiden’s glad that he’ll get to see more of you.”
There’s a twitch of a smile as she nods again.
