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“I’m fine.”
He stared at me for another moment, brow pinching as if he doubted my fineness. Then he closed me in his truck, rounded to the driver’s side, got in, and drove me home. No other words about the wager. No other words at all, actually.
The sun had barely risen when I knocked on Lachlan’s door. It took him less than thirty seconds to answer, like he’d been waiting for me. His eyes were sleepy, but amusement danced in the chocolate depths. His hair was messy, like he’d just been rolling around in bed.
Not with me. When he rolled around in bed with me, his hair had been damp with sweat from how hard he worked at getting me off.
Balls. That was ancient history. So last season. It hadn’t even been that good.
I shoved his coffee at him. “Here. Don’t say anything or I’ll dump it on your head.”
Instead of being a good sport by taking his coffee and letting me slink away with an ounce of pride intact, he cuffed my wrist and pulled me into the house. I started to protest, but he tapped my lips.
“Julien’s sleeping,” he said quietly.
He pulled me with him through the silent house to the sliding glass door that led to his deck. When we were outside again, he let go of my hand, took his coffee, and held it up in front of his face, like he had X-ray vision and could see the contents through the paper cup.
“It’s a vanilla latte. I figured you were a black coffee kind of guy.”
His grin was wide. The laugh that followed was new to me. Filled with genuine amusement, it sounded like it had originated from the depths of the Grand Canyon, echoing off ancient rock walls until it finally thundered to the surface. My ears tingled, and something low in my stomach squirmed. I’d never heard this man laugh. At least, not like this. So free. So unbothered.
To maintain my sanity, I hoped to never hear it again.
“So, you got me something entirely different than you thought I’d like?”
I shrugged. “You never said what kind of coffee I had to bring you.”
He took a sip and made a show of smacking his lips. “Not bad.” Another sip, and he hummed as he swallowed. “If this is supposed to be some kind of punishment for beating you, it isn’t very good.”
“Don’t tell me you’re a latte guy?”
He lowered his chin and reached out to tug on the ends of the strings hanging from my hoodie. “I’m not a latte guy, but maybe you’ve converted me.” He gave another tug. “Am I ever getting this back?”
I shook my head. “Nope. You should know I’m an only child and very bad at sharing. Once something is in my possession, I never let go.”
He sipped his latte and propped his butt on the deck railing. Relaxed, as always. Freaking Lock.
“Luckily, I’m used to dealing with an annoying little sister taking my things.”
His expression was smooth, without any humor now. Which was fine, since I didn’t really find being compared to his little sister very funny.
My eyes narrowed on him, patience running thin. “Why am I out here with you? I didn’t know I had to include conversation with the coffee delivery.”
He watched me over the top of the cup. “I knew you’d have something to say and I didn’t want to wake up the house. You forgot to wear pants, so I pulled you back here.”
I pulled up the hoodie to show him my running shorts. “I’m wearing pants. It just so happens I obtained this hoodie from a giant, so they’re covered.”
He raised one of his thick brows. “Obtained? Is that what we’re calling theft now?”
“When you gave it to me, you never said you wanted it back. Honestly, I’m shocked you’re so pressed for a sweatshirt. We both know I wear it better than you ever could.”
“I’ll get you one in your size.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. “Face it, Lachlan, you’re not getting it back. Now, may I be dismissed? I have things to do—”
“Small countries to take over?”
I finger gunned him. “You’re catching on. Good job, you.”
