She scooped the grounds slowly, deliberately.
“And I am certain,” she said quietly, “that you don’t like not being able to fix something.”
That stopped me. The machine clicked on. The silence between us shifted. She didn’t look smug. She looked . . . observant.
“You’re not wrong,” I admitted.
She looked up at that. There it was. That spark I had been trying to deny. The recognition that she saw me more clearly than anyone had in a long time.
“See?” she said softly. “We’re both insufferable.”
“That is not the word I would choose.”
She smiled at that. And something in my chest loosened in response.
“Did you sleep at all?” she said, studying me more closely now. She poured us each a mug of coffee.
“I slept some. I also reviewed documentation.”
“You also paced outside my door.” The playful look on her face had me aching to put my arms around her and kiss her. I was starting to question if this was a good idea. I liked her entirely too much to be around her like this. But I was a selfish man. I was going to keep her as long as I could.
“That is unverified,” I shot back at her, keeping our playful banter alive.
“I could feel it.”
“You could not.”
“I absolutely could.”
She handed me a mug. Our fingers brushed. It was brief and accidental, but that spark sent a jolt right through me. Every small touch with her felt like a jolt to my system. I was beginning to crave her touch. I had not had the touch of a woman in a very long time. But this is contractual, nothing more. I would do better to remember that.
She took a sip of coffee, closed her eyes and exhaled like someone who had survived a small war.
When she was done, she opened her eyes and caught me observing her. “You’re a little terrifying,” she said.
“Maybe that’s why they call me the Beast.”
She laughed.Actually laughed.The sound settled somewhere deep and permanent.
“I think it’s because you’re so broody . . . and hairy.”
I gave her a playful growl.
“And yet,” she said, softer now, “you got me crutches.”
“You needed them.”
The coffee machine hissed quietly behind us as we both stood there, unsure of what to say next.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay,” I echoed.
“Let’s get married.”
My pulse shifted again.
“But if you rush me out the door without letting me finish this coffee,” she added, “I will absolutely leave you at the altar.”
