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I wonder if she's thinking about the mess she created. If she knows her son, she knows he's going to send me away as soon as the weather clears.
And thatsucks. But, oh well. I'll make the best of the time that I have here.
I'll bake cookies, because Lucy clearly bought everything I would need to bake everything that I wanted to bake. Maybe I'll have some wine by the fire. Mr. Grouchy pants doesn't even have to join me. I can do it all by myself. I can be happy alone. I've done it before. Lots. Plenty.
I can do it again. Lemonade out of lemons.
Still, as I think about getting up, it's hard because this bed is heaven.
It's soft, and the duvet feels like a cloud. I could stay here for eternity and be a happy woman. But I wonder if he's awake. I wonder if he's waiting for me. And I hope he has coffee. If he doesn't have coffee, we can't be friends. It'll be decided. Fate will have laid her cards, the line in the sand drawn.
Flipping back the comforter, I think once about a shower before I recall the deep, seductive tub in his guest bathroom. I decide I'm going to get covered in flour, anyway. I may as well pass on a shower with plans for a bath later. So I pair nude leggings with a cute black slouchy sweater. I toss my hair into a ponytail and call it good as thoughts of a bath in Nick’s tub dance in my mind.
Maybe Nick even has candles. I doubt it. He doesn't seem like a candle kind of man. But there’s a good chance Lucy thought about candles when she thought about everything else she brought here for me.
I bet she thought about candles, I decide. I'll ask Nick. Yes, I'll have a bath after I bake. And then I will sit by that beautiful wood stove with a blanket, my Kindle, and a glass of wine.
I'll be fine. I'm going to make the best of this holiday. Even if I don't get the whole thing. Before I leave my room, I tug on a pair of fuzzy cream socks. These ones don’t reach my knees, but instead slouch around my ankles. They’re adorably cute, insanely comfortable, and perfect for a holiday in a timber and stone mountain house.
Opening the bedroom door, I instantly smell coffee. And I’m instantly happy.
Nick is already in the kitchen. A cup of joe steaming in one big hand. He's a big man, I think again. He's wearing a black sweater, this one cut with a deeper, sharper V. I get just a peek of his chest, but I instantly want more, and the thought makes my face heat with a blush I know he must see.
“Good morning,” Nick rumbles as he nods to the pot of coffee. I moan, and he quirks a brow. “Like coffee, I see.”
I roll my eyes as I tilt my head back, another moan escaping my lips. I’m already walking that way, grabby hands stretched before me and a look of pure devotion on my face. “Love coffee. Like, can't live without it, love it. I am not a happy person—I am not a nice person if I don't get it.”
This time, it's his lips that quirk as he rumbles, “Doubt that, Sunshine.”
“Sunshine?” I squeak, my head snapping to the side so I can gaze at him over my shoulder.
“Sunshine,” he repeats, eyes still fixed on me. And holy wow—but when he looks at me like that—I feel hot everywhere.It’s sinful.
I clear my throat. “You’re calling me Sunshine?”
“Yeah. You're happy.” He watches me beam and mutters, “Too happy.”
Like sunshine, I can't help my smile as I turn back to the coffee pot. I do, however, hope that he didn't notice it.
I add cream to the coffee and turn back to face him. My heart flutters because he's watching me curiously. Then he asks, “No sugar?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
He grunts. “I would have thought you took sugar.”
“Not in my coffee,” I sing. “What about you?”
“Are you asking if I take sugar in my coffee?”
“Yes.”
“I do,” he tells me.
I smile at him over my cup as I lean into the counter behind me. “I never would have guessed.”
He frowns, his eyes warming me as he takes me in from tip to toe. “Why is that?”
“You seem like a black coffee kind of guy.”
