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She crossed her arms across her chest. “At Starbucks.”
He tossed her an annoyed look.
“Kitchen,” she said, tilting her head that direction. “And this is me saying fine to the coffee. Not the marriage.” She followed him into her kitchen where he snagged the tin of blonde roast off the counter.
“Coffee liners?” he asked.
She grumbled under her breath where he could find them in the cupboard.
“I’ll tell you what. You go do whatever you do to wake up.” He turned and stepped toward her. He didn’t even have to touch her to leave a trail of goose bumps along her skin.
Unable to move, she shivered.
He stood there all sexy stubble and man in her kitchen. “I’ll make coffee.”
His gaze rested on her mouth, which at some point had parted against her will. She promptly shut it.
“Then we can talk about a trip to Twin Lakes,” he said.
Full-bodied with an extra shot of persistence was apparently on her menu this morning. “I have to work, I’ve got a cat, and there are three thousand other reasons I can’t get away.”
“Let’s talk after you resurrect Happy Lucy. Meditate, whatever you usually do…then coffee.” He returned to the coffee pot.
The universe seriously had a messed up sense of humor.
She stared at him, scruffy, delicious, and in her kitchen. “Shower. I usually shower first thing.”
“You…uh…getting that shower going or are you waiting for me to take one with you?” he asked without turning around.
She scowled at his ridiculously attractive back for a beat.
It wasn’t fair that even his back was sexy. Her gaze traveled lower to his shorts. Over his ass. His legs. His calves.
He cleared his throat. She glanced up quickly to meet his…dimples.
“I’ll come, too, then?” He was clearly joking, but as his lips formed the husky words, they practically hypnotized her.
He took a step toward her, the tin of coffee still in his grip.
She froze, certain the look on her face must’ve mirrored an early-morning deer meeting the headlights of a Ferrari. Like, if she was gonna get hit by a car, might as well be a good one.
Oh boy, was she about to get run over.
She licked at her lips.
His gaze fell to them, mouth parted, eyes flared.
Next, please.
She noped right out of there. Turned and bolted for the bathroom, ensuring the lock on the door clicked behind her.
Head in her hands, she slumped against the thin wood panel on the wall beside the cracked tub.
She was officially hiding from William in her bathroom. She needed to wake up. Her hair needed shampoo. And she had lusty irritation to rinse down the drain.
By the time the hot water ran out, the aroma of coffee, eggs, and bacon filled the kitchen.
Lucy emerged from the bathroom with wet hair and a fresh outlook, but forgiveness for the early wake-up would cost a lot more than breakfast.
