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“You can have all you want, though.” She was babbling. Nerves did that to a woman. “I forgot the drinks. I’m sure the fridge kept things cold, but I’ll need to—”
“Zara. Breathe.” Braden’s hand gripped her shoulder. She hadn’t even heard him come up behind her. “I’m making you nervous again.”
Swallowing, she turned to face him. Holding his heavy-lidded gaze, Zara tried not to look at the sheet mark on his cheek. A minor imperfection that made this man seem so...normal.
“I’m not nervous,” she said, defensively. “Why would I be nervous? I mean, just because you... I...last night...and now your shirt is still off, so I’m not sure what to do or how to act. I’ve never had a man here, let alone my boss. So this whole morning-after thing is different, not that we did anything to discuss the typical morning after...”
Closing her eyes, Zara let out a sigh. She shook her head to clear her thoughts before looking back up to Braden. “I’m rambling. This is just a bit awkward for me, and I didn’t want to make a total fool of myself, but I’m doing just that.”
Braden took the package from her hands and tore it open. After pulling out a Pop-Tart, he held it up to her.
“Why don’t you eat?” he suggested. “I’m not worried about what happened last night, but if you want to run through it again, that’s fine with me. Maybe we can discuss how much farther I wanted to go.”
“No, we shouldn’t.” Zara took the pastry he held up to her. “Maybe we should just check on the road conditions instead of reliving anything.”
Braden laughed as he tore open his own package. “Whatever you want. I’m at your mercy here.”
Did every word that came out of his mouth have to drip with sex appeal? Was he trying to torment her further? Because if this was him putting forth no effort to torture her, she’d hate to see when he actually turned on the charm.
Zara didn’t want to think about staying in this room with him for another day. If she didn’t get out of here, her hormones may explode.
They ate their gourmet breakfast, and Braden muttered something about them being amazing before he went and grabbed a different flavor. Traditional chocolate this time. While he had round two, Zara went to dig out her old boots. She was going to have to get the frozen food outside and put it into the snow to stay cold. There was no other way, not if she wanted to salvage her groceries.
After she shoved her fuzzy-socked feet into her boots, Zara headed for the door. “I’ll be right back.”
Braden swallowed his last bite and crumbled his foil in his hand. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to run downstairs and get the food from the freezer and fridge and set it out in the snow. It will stay cold there. I don’t know what else to do with it.”
Crossing to the bed, Braden reached for his shirt and shrugged into it. “I’ll help.”
“You don’t have to. I’ve got it.”
Ignoring her, he buttoned each button with quick, precise movements. “What else do I have to do?”
Keep that potent, sexually charged body away from hers? Stay in the warm room while she went outside and cooled off?
Zara knew she wasn’t going to win this argument, so she turned and headed from the room. Braden closed the bedroom door behind them. The cooler air in the hallway slid right through Zara, helping her to focus on something other than the man who pretended like make out sessions were passed out each night before bedtime like a hug good-night.
Should her body still be humming, given they hadn’t even gotten to the good part? Seriously?
As soon as she went into the kitchen, she turned to Braden, only he wasn’t there. Zara backtracked a couple steps to find him in the living room staring at the built-in bookcases.
“This house has a lot of the same old-Boston charm mine does,” he told her without turning around. “The trim on the top of these cabinets, the detailed edging. It’s all so rare to find in homes these days. I appreciate when properties have been taken care of.”
“I imagine you see quite a variety of homes with various decor in your line of work.”
Throwing her a glance over his shoulder, he nodded. “I’ve seen million-dollar homes that were polished to perfection, every single thing in them brand-new. But it’s the old houses that really pull me in. Mac is more the guy who wants all things shiny and new.”
Zara crossed her arms to ward off the chill. The only vibe she’d gotten of the younger O’Shea brother was that he was a player. And with his looks and charm, she could totally see women batting their lashes and dropping their panties.
