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“Good morning.” I kiss his chin.
“And a good morning to you.” He drags his hand through his dark, messy hair. “I need to shave this morning.”
“I like the scruff.” I rub the tip of my nose over the stubble on his chin. “It’s sexy.”
“There will be no more shaving, ever again, by order of the queen.”
I laugh and shake my head at him. “Well, we don’t want you to look like Santa or anything.”
“You have something against beards, then?”
“No.” I let my eyes roam over his face, taking him in. “You’d look good with a short beard. Just don’t let it go and get dirty and full of food and stuff.”
“That’s disgusting.” He swats my ass playfully and then rolls away. “Let’s get in the shower.”
“I’m spent.” I pull the covers up over my nakedness. “I can’t do shower sex right now, Keegan, no matter how fun it sounds.”
He laughs again and reaches for my hand. “It’s not my intention to ravage you in the shower. We’ll save that for another day. But I’m hungry, and I need to clean up before I can take you out to breakfast.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” I climb out of bed and hurry to the bathroom, where Keegan starts the water.
He takes his time washing my hair, rubbing my scalp so thoroughly that I swear I could fall asleep standing up.
Once I’m rinsed, I help him wash up, then we climb out and dry off.
“Getting ready in the morning goes fast when I don’t have to shave,” he says with a grin as he slips a black T-shirt over his head and reaches for his jeans. His eyes haven’t left me as I get dressed in denim shorts and a loose tank top.
“What is it?” I ask.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, I can hardly stand it, Isabella.”
Those words coming from any man have the power to make a woman smile. Coming from this man, in that incredible accent, it melts my insides.
“Thank you.”
“Why do you get flustered when I compliment you?”
“Because it’s unexpected and hot as hell, honestly.”
With a cocky grin, he steps to me and plants those magical lips on mine for a long, slow kiss. “Let’s go eat.”
“Good idea.”
But when we’re in the truck headed into town, he doesn’t park in front of the diner.
“No oatmeal this morning?”
“This is a date,” he says. “I’m taking you somewhere new. Well, new to you. There’s a deli just around the corner here that has good breakfast.”
He helps me out of the truck and then holds the door of the deli. Once inside, we order breakfast burritos and sit in the corner to eat.
One bite in, and I know this is not as good as the diner.
Keegan and I look up at each other.
“So, should we go to the diner for oatmeal?” I ask.
“Yeah. We should.” We stand and take the burritos with us, and Keegan stashes them in the backseat of his truck. “I don’t want to throw them away. Shawn’s the one who said this place was great. I’ll see if he wants them.”
“Good idea.”
Before he can pull away from the deli, my phone rings.
“It’s my dad,” I say in surprise. Keegan puts the truck back in park, and I answer. “Hello?”
“Hello, Izzy. It’s your father.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I have your number programmed, Dad.”
“I’ll get right to the point of this call. I want to know when you’ll be coming home. It’s past time you do so.”
I sigh and shake my head. “I’m not coming home to live, Dad. I’ll come visit if you and Mom want me to, but I won’t be living in Salem again.”
“This is ridiculous,” he mutters on the other end. “You have responsibilities here, young lady. I expect you to take over my company someday.”
“No, you expect me to marry someone to take over your company one day, Dad. Because I’m just a woman, and running a multi-million-dollar enterprise isn’t appropriate. But I can tell you right now, that’s never going to happen.”
“Troy is not the bad man you’ve made him out to be,” he insists. “In fact, he’s a good man, and you need to come here and apologize to him. You need to make things right with him and do your duty to our family.”
I sit up straight and stare at my phone. He’s lost his damn mind. “I don’t think you heard me. I won’t apologize to Troy, today or any day. I’m not marrying him. If you love him so much, you marry him, Dad.”
“I didn’t raise you to speak to me that way.”
“You didn’t raise me at all!” I laugh at the absurdity of it. “Nannies raised me. And this is who I am.”
“What? A lowly barmaid who barely makes minimum wage in some bumpkin town in Washington?”
“I’m an independent, hardworking, good person in a lovely small community in Washington. You can take it or leave it.”
