Bubble baths, Epsom salts, bath oils. All the perfect ingredients that one would dream about if they ever wanted to simply relax.
“Have a bath if you want.”
I glance at him. “It’s one in the morning.”
Carter shrugs. “You don’t work tomorrow.”
He’s got me there.
He holds out the shirt he brought me. It’s a vintage T-shirt, all muted blues and purples, that’ll probably go to my thighs. There’s some rap group on the front of it, one I’m unfamiliar with. He doesn’t let go of it right away, which forces me to look up at him.
“Have one tomorrow. You don’t have to rush home, you know? It’s nice having someone else here.”
I breathe a laugh, and he lets the shirt go. “I’d move my whole apartment into this room if you’d let me.”
He smiles, pleased by that answer. “We’re dating, Red. If you want to stay here, you can. If you want to sleep here on my nights only, you’re more than welcome to.”
That goes well beyond our rules.
“I’m not kidding,” he tells me, bending a bit to meet me eye-to-eye. “To further incentivise you. I have an early practice tomorrow. You can enjoy this tub, this room—hell, this whole place, all on your own.”
“Carter,” I mumble, but then I glance at the bathtub and dream. I’m certain one dip inside of that thing could wash away one hundred of my mounting problems.
“Stay. I’ll bring you home breakfast.”
I slide my gaze to his, unable to hide my smile. Apparently, I fall victim to Carter Forkerro when he begs. “Fine.”
He smiles, thumping his fist against the doorframe again. “Have a good sleep, snookems.”
My body physically recoils at that. I aim the shirt at his head, but don’t throw it. “Oh, absolutelynot!”
His laughter slips under the crack in the door as he closes it behind him, crawls right up my body, and etches itself on my heart.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
carter
I walkinto my condo with my hands full of way too much food, hoping that my faux girlfriend took me up on my offer to stay, relax, and enjoy herself. I’ve seen the bathroom at her place. That girl hasn’t been able to relax since she’s lived there. She’s got a stand-up shower with only a sliver of room for herself. Since she was staring at that tub like it was made of gold bars, I think Arden needed a spa day.
If she chose to flee, which I’m fully expecting, I’m going to have to eat a hell of a lot of food by myself. I won’t complain. I love to eat. I will miss her company though.
As I was placing the order, I realized that I don’t actually know what her breakfast preferences are. I don’t knowanyof her preferences, apart from her drink of choice, that she drinks her coffee with one hundred sugars, and the fact that she can dummy chicken nuggets like it’s an Olympic sport. She likes sushi too, more than most foods. Last time, I just ordered a bunch of everything and she politely ate what I bought, so I did it again.
I’m going to take notice of what she likes thistime. That way, in the future, I can make sure we’ve always got her favourites on the table.
“Red?” I call, kicking off my shoes.
No answer.
I almost sigh, but quickly note that her shoes are still here. I wander through the condo, checking all the open spaces. It doesn’t look like she’s visited the kitchen or the living room at all. It’s spotless, untouched, and I smell no hint of cinnamon or cherry.
When I finally reach the guest room, I peer inside the cracked-open doorway and my heart does a little swoop in my chest. I’m getting used to that feeling. That’s probably not a good thing.
Arden is curled up in the bed, hair slightly damp, with her hand outstretched over one of Ari’s books. She breathes softly, in and out, fast asleep.
A smile touches my lips.
I debate sitting on the edge of the bed and waking her, or if I should leave her be until she gets up on her own, but I’m scared she has plans for the day beyond breakfast with me. Regretfully, I approach the bed and take a seat next to her feet. I reach over to shake her gently.
