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On the counter were a half-filled coffee mug and a notepad with her handwriting scrawled across the top page.
Her to-do list covered an impressive array of tasks, some of them things I’d never considered adding to a list before.
Shower.
Dry hair.
Wash bras.
All things that made me grin. Everything was crossed off except the last item on the list, and the tip of my finger trailed over the messy loops in ink.
Finish Burke PP—work on last transition.
My eyes narrowed.
Burke PP.
I mulled over that one, thinking back to what she’d said in our slightly tipsy, ill-advised phone conversation. In the bedroom, I opened my suitcase on the small yellow bed and took in a deep lungful of the carriage house’s familiar scent.
It took me only a few minutes to unpack my clothes and slide the empty suitcase into the small closet. When I turned the corner into the bathroom, I froze.
Bras everywhere.
Those had never appeared in the bathroom when I was there.
Hanging from the curtain rod was a veritable rainbow of lace and cotton. I swallowed roughly when I caught sight of a black lace design. In the middle of the cups was an impossibly small bow in pastel pink.
For far too long, I stared at that bra, then pinched my eyes shut, tossed my toiletry bag onto the counter, and strode back into the kitchen.
I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck and tried to banish the image of that bra from my brain. In the mirror that hung above the small console table by the door, I caught a glimpse of my reflection.
The color in my cheeks was high, and my eyes were bright and intense.
It was just a bra, for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t like she had walked out of her bedroom wearing it.
With matching underwear.
And high heels.
I blew out a hard breath.
“I shouldn’t have come back,” I said. For some reason, it felt important to say the words out loud. Let the walls around me hear the admission unprompted.
Unprompted or not, there was still a buzzing sort of anticipation in the air, and as I tried to decide if it would’ve been there regardless of our phone call, the sound of her car made me stand to attention.
Through the window, I could see her in the driver’s seat, and she tore off her sunglasses to study the rental car.
She looked at the carriage house, then back at the car, then back at the carriage house.
Then she buried her face in her hands.
My brows furrowed.
Was that good? Or bad?
I was in here imagining her in lingerie and wondering what would happen if I licked her body through the delicate lace, and she had to hide her face at the thought that I’d returned.
Just as my stomach began churning uncomfortably, she sat back up.
