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The next day, at promptly eight o’clock in the morning, he was at my door, banging away.
Jolting upright in bed, I looked around the bedroom, still trying to adjust to my surroundings, and quickly rose to my feet.
The knocking continued.
“What the actual hell?” I grumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
Shuffling down the hall as quickly as I could muster, I went to the door and pulled it open with a huff. “Do you have any idea what time—” I stopped short of finishing my sentence.
Macon was dressed in plain clothes today, his muscly body filling out his tight-fitting T-shirt perfectly. His hazel eyes flared with heat as they slid down my body.
“What?” I asked.
He cleared his throat and finally broke eye contact, looking upward. “Do you always answer your door without pants?”
This time, it was me whose eyes were nearly popping out of my head as I looked down to see my naked legs and a barely there Guns N’ Roses T-shirt. “Shit!” I exclaimed, pivoting on my heel to run back to my bedroom. “Make yourself at home. There’s coffee in the pantry,” I hollered.
I honestly didn’t even remember falling asleep, let alone the attire in which I’d done it in. Sleep hadn’t been coming easy here.
Too many emotions and not enough time to sort them all.
While I was grabbing a pair of pants, I took a moment to brush my teeth and hair and change out of the shirt I’d slept in. It wasn’t a shower, but it was enough for now.
Walking back down the hallway, I found myself stopping dead in my tracks. Macon was standing at the counter, filling the coffeepot with water, his back facing me.
It should have been an odd sight—another man in my kitchen. But somehow, he seemed like he belonged there. Like he’d been here a hundred times.
“Morning,” he said, not bothering to turn around.
“How did you even know—” I’d barely made a sound.
“I might be a small-town cop, but that doesn’t mean I’m a bad one,” he said before he pressed the button on the coffee maker and turned around. “Besides, creaky floor, remember?”
I blushed a little, remembering the way I’d tackled him the other night, thinking he was a burglar. I had been really glad he wasn’t ’cause I wasn’t sure what my next move would have been after that. “Oh, right.”
“Does the master still have floral wallpaper?”
My mouth opened and then promptly closed. “What?”
He leaned against the counter, and I tried not to stare at him. I didn’t know why it was so difficult. It wasn’t like I’d never seen a hot guy before.
My boyfriend was good-looking.
Shit.
My boyfriend…
I hadn’t even called him since I’d gotten here.
“Horrible floral wallpaper with orange and pink blooms?”
His answer brought me back into the conversation. I’d contemplate my boyfriend situation later.
“You—” How did he know about that horrid wallpaper? It was the first thing I’d changed after we moved in. “How?”
He might be a good cop, but no one was that good.
The corner of his mouth curved upward into the tiniest grin. “A friend of mine from grade school used to live here. I’ve actually spent a lot of time in this house.”
