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The next morning, I wake up groggy and confused. I’m wrapped up in the most delicious scent of caramel and frustrated dreams. I blink and stare at the sky through the skylight window on the cabin’s roof.
It feels like I’ve been asleep for fifteen minutes, but the sun is already rising, meaning it’s time to get up.
I sit up straight, rubbing my eyes and trying to shake off the exhaustion. A knot of anxiety wrings my stomach as I remember I’ll have to face Gabriel again in just a few hours at our panel. Normally, I’d go for a morning jog to get my head straight, but today I need to preserve my strength.
I pull myself onto my feet and take a quick shower. Then I order room service, feeling slightly guilty some poor server will have to trudge all the way to my cabin to deliver my breakfast. But I’m too on edge to face another chance meeting with MGM—or worse, Justin. With my luck, I’d bump into MGM, or his brother, or my ex in the breakfast room, and I could do with a little me time—free of testosterone-supercharged tycoons.
After breakfast, I dress in my armor of jogging leggings and a zip-up running top with long sleeves. I inspect my appearance in the mirror. I look innocuous enough. It’s better when they don’t see you coming.
There’s a slight scratch on my left cheekbone, courtesy of my impromptu stroll into the woods of last night. I consider smoothing it over with concealer but opt not to. It’ll be another battle scar to wear with pride.
In the time I have left before the panel, I take out my laptop and go over the talking points I’ve prepared for the showdown. I’ve learned them by heart, but I want to sound as natural as possible as I expose my arguments.
I’m re-reading a section of my presentation when there’s a knock at the door. I know who it is before I even open it.
And there he is. The laid-back attire of running shorts, tight-fitting black long-sleeved T-shirt, and running shoes, does nothing to soften the blow of his handsomeness.
Gabriel smiles when he sees me, and skipping hello, he says, “I come in peace and bearing coffee.” He lifts the two paper cups in his hands.
“What are you doing here?”
He jogs up the porch steps as if I’d invited him to stay. “Last night we left things a little…” He pauses, taking time by dropping the coffee cups on the small wooden table. “…awkward,” he concludes.
I scoff. That’s a way of putting it.
“But I didn’t want to see you for the first time when we have to square off in a public debate.”
He’s so sweet I want to choke him.
“May I?” He gestures at the two Adirondack chairs on the deck.
I sigh, unable to say no. “Make yourself at home.”
The boyish grin of elation I get in response is even more heart-shattering than the peace offering.
I sit in the chair opposite him, the small table in the middle creating a comfortable distance between us, and take a sip of my coffee.
My eyes widen as I taste the exact blend of cream-to-vanilla-to-sugar I like in my coffee.
My head snaps to him. “How did you know how I take my coffee?”
His eyes crinkle. “I have a very good executive assistant.”
“Meaning?”
“Assistants trade favors; I guess Mila could get the information from yours.”
Mental note: remember to fire Tilly the moment I get home. Of course, I won’t. But she shouldn’t divulge personal information so freely to my mortal enemies.
“I take it I did a good job?” MGM hides his mouth behind his cup and arches an eyebrow at me.
“It’s drinkable,” I lie.
MGM chuckles. “I should warn you. The more you make me work for it, the more I like you.”
I blush at that but otherwise ignore the comment, which confirms my fear he’s only in this for the thrill of the chase, and change the subject. I circle a finger in his direction. “Is that how you’re dressing for the panel?”
