Imagining the possible outcomes of that scenario—his favorite being her pushing him down on the couch and kneeling on a throw pillow in front of him—didn’t do much for the morning wood situation, so he threw back the quilt and sat on the edge of the bed to scrub his face with his hands.
One of the things he’d liked about this house was that, despite being a one-bedroom, it had a master bath in addition to a half bath off the entryway, so he was able to take the world’s fastest shower and get dressed before facing Zoe.
As soon as he opened his bedroom door, he smelled coffee. Coffee and the ibuprofen he’d just taken would hopefully knock out the headache that, considering his condition last night, wasn’t as bad as he’d feared it would be when he first opened his eyes.
Zoe was sitting at his small kitchen table with the fleece throw over her shoulders and her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. Her hair was still mussed from sleep and she looked so beautiful that his head wasn’t the only thing that ached.
Waking up to Zoe could only have been better if she was actually in his bed with him.
“Good morning,” she said. “I helped myself to your Keurig since I wasn’t sure how long you’d sleep.”
He popped a fresh pod into the brewer and set a mug on the tray. “Thank you for driving me home last night. I honestly didn’t intend to drink like that.”
“Somebody should have warned you about Abe’s punch. And you’re welcome for driving you home. I got an orgasm out of it, so it wasn’t a bad deal for me.”
It’s a good thing his coffee was still brewing because if it had been done, he probably would have choked on it. Or spit it all over his kitchen. “I...just so you know, I wouldn’t have tipped an Uber driver that well.”
She laughed hard enough so the fleece slipped off her shoulders, revealing the way her curves stretched and filled out his cotton thermals, which were his favorite now. “Good to know, although that would be one way to get ride-sharing off the ground in this town.”
His coffee finished brewing, so after adding some cream and sugar, he sat at the table across from her and raised the mug to his lips. Closing his eyes, he savored that first hot sip, hoping the caffeine would help kick the ibuprofen into gear.
“How come you have no holiday decorations?”
The question took him off guard, and he looked around the house. “I do. Not many, but I have a box of decorations in the back of the coat closet. I just haven’t gotten around to putting them up. And don’t give me that look. Thanksgiving was just last week, so I have plenty of time.”
“Here’s what I think we should do.”
He gave an exaggerated groan, but internally, he was anticipating her telling him they needed to get that box and unleash Christmas on his house. While it wasn’t a very big box, he’d move slowly and that way they’d spend the day here. Together.
“Carly lived here for years,” she said, “so I’m familiar with the coat closet and if you have a box in the back of it, it’s not a very big box.”
“Guilty. But I keep it pretty simple when it comes to Christmas decorations.”
“Please tell me you’re not one of those people who do everything in white.”
He snorted. “No, I am not. And you still haven’t told me what you think we should do.”
“Oh, right. I think you should take me home—”
“That’s not a fun plan,” he interrupted.
She laughed. “And then, after I take a quick shower and grab a few things, I’ll meet you at the Café for breakfast. After we eat, I’ll follow you back here and we can spend the day decorating your place.”
“That sounds like a good plan.”
“Unless you drive too slow, in which case I’ll pass you and you can just show up eventually to help.”
“That’ll probably be a lot funnier after I finish this coffee.” He smiled at her over his mug. “You’re right about my car being a lot less boring with you driving it, though.”
“Everything’s less boring with me in it,” she said, and it was so true, he didn’t even laugh.
She stood and, to his dismay, wrapped the fleece around herself again. “I’m going to go put last night’s clothes back on. And I’m starving, so don’t take all day drinking that coffee.”
“No pity at all for the guy with a hangover who didnothave an orgasm last night?”
She was still laughing when the bathroom door closed behind her, and Preston smiled against the rim of his coffee mug. He could get used to this.
Chapter Eight
