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Ever since, I’d been trying to explain it away. Maybe he’d been saying something else when he, you know—yeah. Maybe, “I have to leave,” or “Just achieve,” or—well, yeah. It had really sounded like my name, though.
This time it definitely sounded like my name. Because it was.
A burning, hot, flush rose from my lower belly, up my chest and landed on my cheeks. I had to get out of there before he heard me.
Racing back to the kitchen, I took some deep, calming breaths and tried my best to get my heartbeat under control. No matter what I did, the sound of Beau calling out my name flooded my brain.
I could hear a door open, then another one shut. He must be changing in my room. Technically it was ‘our’ room, even though he wasn’t sleeping there. However, as we speak, he was likely naked in my room right now.
The constant ache in my girly regions just multiplied tenfold at that thought. A naked Beau Moreau. In my bedroom? After hearing him come in the shower as he said my name?
Luckily, I was somehow able to make perfect pancakes despite my current hormone imbalance. By the time Beau came into the room, I had a nice stack ready for him.
“Hey,” he said as he slipped onto one of the stools.
I smiled and got him a plate. “Have a good shower?” I asked, immediately regretting it. Why would I ask such a stupid thing?
“Uh, yeah, I guess?” he answered as I slid a plate of pancakes and eggs in front of him. “Got syrup?”
Oh damn, I forgot the syrup. “Yeah, one sec,” I said, spinning around to my cupboards. I knew where it should be. I also knew where it wasn’t. Crap. I opened up all of the cupboards to no avail.
“Shoot, I must’ve given it away with the other stuff. Sorry about that,” I said, feeling like a dingbat. “It was the good kind, too.”
Beau laughed as he got off his seat. “Canadian maple syrup?” he asked, still chuckling while he moved to the door.
“Yeah.”
“You likely had help with it going missing. Gotta keep that shit under lock and key around these people. I’ll be back in a sec,” he said before closing the door behind him.
While he was gone, I started making smoothies. By the time he was back, I had two to go cups ready.
Beau walked in, holding up a large bottle of maple syrup. “Straight from Montréal,” he said with his French accent—which quickly brought back the ache inside me. Damn that man and his sexy accent.
“Wow,” I said, admiring the liquid gold he held. “I can’t stomach the stuff they have here.”
He laughed and said, “That’s because it’s complete fake, crap.” I watched with rapt attention as he poured on a generous portion of the thick, golden liquid.
“True. That was the one thing I made sure to pack with me when I left Alberta,” I said, turning back to the stove. The last of the pancakes were finished cooking, so I dumped them with the rest and stuck the hot pan in the sink.
“I made you a smoothie. Do you use protein powder?” I asked as I cleaned up a bit. He nodded while he chewed. “Before I forget, you need to add what you want to the grocery order. I need a few things,” I said, opening up my laptop and carrying it to where he was sitting, “Add what you want. I wasn’t sure what you normally ate.”
After I brought up the ordering page, I left him to it. He didn’t need me hanging over his shoulder. I threw the dishes into the dishwasher and wiped the counters.
“G,” he called my name with a hint of amusement.
I turned to him. “What?”
“Are you always this fucking organized?” His lips curled up into the deadliest of smiles, taking my breath away.
“Always,” I shot back with a smile of my own. “When you’re done, click on the ‘order’ button, please?”
“G,” he called my name again even though I was standing right in front of him.
“Right here, Beau.”
“There’s flecks of healthy crap in my pancakes.”
I nodded and frowned. “It’s wheat germ, flax seed and whole wheat. You can hardly taste it.”
