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He wants me to stay, but he also spent the past hour trying to talk himself out of that idea. And he failed, I remind myself. He wants me to stay and beyond reason, I want to stay. “I have nothing but last night’s dress to put on. And high heels.”
“Is that a yes to staying?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, I’ll stay.”
Relief washes over his face as if he actually thought I’d say no. “Wear my sweats. And my T-shirt looks good on you. But do it quickly because you’re sitting here naked, baby. I can’t take it. Find something in my closet or my drawers that works. Nothing is off-limits. And you can have that coffee. I’ll get another one. I also left some Advil on the nightstand for you.”
God, he thinks I’m a lush. “Thank you. Are we really doing this?”
“Yeah, baby,” he says, stroking my hair. “We are. Get dressed. I’ll see you downstairs.” He kisses me hard and fast on the mouth and heads for the door. A moment later, he’s gone, and the door is shut. I’m naked and alone in his room, about to rifle through his closet. With his sister downstairs.
What is this man doing to me?
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
I pick up the coffee cup and drink. That’s where I’m at right now. I’m naked and drinking Dash’s coffee while he’s not even in the room. But somehow that feels more respectable than going downstairs in his clothes, with his sister present and preparing breakfast that is now for three, not two. Nope. I can’t do that. It’s just not an option. I have to wear my dress. I take another sip of the coffee, and hunt down my bra and panties, which I find in the sofa cushions, and put them on. My belt is under the coffee table but my thigh highs are missing and after a fairly detailed search, I abandon ship where they’re concerned.
Time is ticking and Dash is expecting me downstairs, so I grab my purse and dart for the closet, where I discover my dress hanging on a hanger. I don’t give myself any time to think about Dash doing that or why or the flutter in my belly at my clothes hanging with his clothes. A night has become the day after. That is all. I will not let myself start thinking this is bigger than it is.
Once my dress is back on my body, I feel a bit more in control. I mean, yes, I wore it last night, but it’s not like Dash’s oversized clothes hanging on me is more obvious than this. I fold the T-shirt and leave it on a shelf and drape my belt with it. The belt is so very last night. I have clothes on my body at least and I dart into the bathroom, opening drawers and hunting for toothpaste to finger brush my teeth. I hit the jackpot and discover an extra brush and I don’t even hesitate to rip open the package.
In about five minutes, I have my teeth and hair brushed, and I’ve washed my face. I have a small amount of makeup with me and I put it to good use. I’m almost human. But now the conundrum. I stare down at my bare feet and pink-painted toes. Heels or no heels?
“I liked you better in my shirt.”
I whirl around to find Dash in the doorway. “Hi,” I say, reverting back to my impressive vocabulary.
His lips curve. “Hi.”
“I’m trying to be less obvious,” I explain.
He catches my hand and walks me to him. “She knows you stayed the night. Just go with it. Let’s eat.” He starts walking, taking me with him.
“I have no shoes, Dash,” I object, but it’s a weak objection. It’s this or heels and heels really feel like a weird choice for waffles with his sister, in his kitchen. But then again, so do my bare feet, but Dash ignores my protests and keeps moving. In other words, bare feet it is. And I’m officially living the most awkward morning after ever. Aren’t sisters protective of their brothers?
I have a memory of me and Dash talking about everyone wanting his sister’s money. That means his money, too. I like Bella quite a lot, but she’s human, and I can all but read her thoughts already and they go something like this: Who does this barefooted brown-haired bitch think she is? She probably wants his money. In other words, I’m screwed, and without more than two sips of coffee.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Once Dash and I are in the hallway, outside the bedroom, he laces his fingers with mine. “She’s just my sister, Allie. Relax.”
He’s just given me the exact reason I can’t relax as a reason to relax, but I nod anyway as kind of a vow to try and do as he wishes. We start walking again and the whole holding hands thing kind of feels like a relationship thing and we’re not in a relationship. Are we? I mean I am meeting his sister. No. No, I’ve already met his sister. And I was here when she came over so this encounter just kind of got forced on us all.
