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The next day, I woke to someone hammering Carson’s door down.
“Carson, man, get the door,” I yelled, rolling over to grab my phone.
Shit.
It was past nine-thirty. Carson was already long gone.
I shoved back the sheet with a frustrated groan and padded downstairs to open the fucking door.
“What the hell— You,” I said, lifting a brow at Dayna.
“Hey.” She lifted her hand in a small wave. “I come bearing apology muffins.”
“You made me apology muffins?”
“No, my mom made them, and I decided to dub them apology muffins. I was a bitch last night.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” I shrugged, running a hand through my bed hair and down the back of my neck.
Dayna’s gaze dropped to my bare chest, moving lower and lower until she was staring at my very noticeable morning wood.
“Uh, shit,” I shoved my hand there, trying to disguise the impossible.
But I couldn’t deny I liked the feel of her eyes on me or the slight flush to her cheeks as she brazenly checked me out.
Maybe freckles wasn’t so innocent after all.
Interesting.
But she had a boyfriend, and one thing I didn’t ever do, was get tangled up with a girl who had a boyfriend. It was too messy.
“You really like muffins, huh?” A shy smile traced her lips, but I saw the heat in her gaze.
“I literally just woke up. It’s simple biology.”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” Her smile grew.
Yeah. I liked her like this. Flirting and playful and gazing at me with subtle interest in her eyes.
Stop, asshole. She isn’t available.
“So can I come in, or do I have to stand out here all morning?”
“I… uh, you’re coming in?”
That was fucking news to me.
“I am.” She nodded. “If you move aside and let me in.”
With little choice, I stepped back, and Dayna slipped past me, moving down Carson’s hall. Something about the way she acted, as if she knew this house almost as well as her own, bothered me more than it should.
“Is there coffee?”
“You’ll need to make a fresh pot,” I replied, traipsing after her.
I wasn’t awake enough for this. Her. The apology muffins.
