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As I wander into the living room, my gaze lands on several stacks of laundry folded on the couch. This comes as a welcome surprise, since I usually skip folding and putting away my clothes, going straight from the laundry basket to wearing them. On closer inspection, I’m mortified to see that my panties are included, every pair folded neatly.
This isn’t how I envisioned Dylan seeing my panties for the first time.
Whoa, where did that come from? It must be my fever talking.
I furrow my brow when I hear Waffles barking insistently and follow the sound to the kitchen.
Dylan is crouched in front of my dog, holding his jaw to keep him in place. He plucks a piece of chicken from a bowl on the floor and balances it on Waffles’ snout. Waffles whines, not happy his treat is being held hostage.
“You got it this time,” Dylan encourages.
He holds out a finger, signaling Waffles to stay still as he slowly releases his jaw. No sooner has he pulled back his hand, Waffles drops the chicken to the floor, and scarfs it up, paying no mind to Dylan’s irritation.
“This is hopeless,” Dylan mumbles. “All you had to do was sit for a few seconds, and I would have given you two treats.”
Waffles barks loudly and chases his tail at the mention of his favorite word.
“Unbelievable.” Dylan throws his hands in the air. “You’d think after twenty tries, you’d have this—”
“Are you trying to train my dog?” I interrupt. “Try being the operative word.”
Dylan turns in my direction, eyes wide when he sees me standing with my arms folded across my chest. He’s on his feet in an instant, forgetting to grab the bowl of chicken off the ground. Waffles doesn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity for an unexpected snack.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Dylan scolds, ignoring my question. “Didn’t you see my note? I specifically told you to call me when you woke up.”
“I’m fine.” A sudden rush of dizziness hits me, and I lean against the counter for support.
“I’m taking you back to bed before you hurt yourself,” he says, crossing over to me.
Without warning, he scoops me up, and I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck. I place my head on his chest, instantly surrounded by the smell of mint and cedar. As my gaze wanders to his face, the attraction is undeniable. He’s downright sexy, particularly with his five o’clock shadow and glasses.
He smirks. “You think I’m sexy?”
Did I say that out loud?
“Yeah, you did.”
That too?
He chuckles as he strides out of the kitchen. “For the time being, let’s assume that whatever is going through your head is coming out of that beautiful mouth of yours.”
“Will you stop being so nice? It’s freaking me out.”
He presses a kiss on my forehead. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I mutter. “Can we talk about how you cleaned my house, folded my underwear, and tried training my dog?”
“Maybe when you’re feeling better.” He doesn’t explain further as he carries me up the stairs and puts me back into bed. “I’ll be right back with some chicken soup,” he tells me and hurries out of the room.
My stomach rumbles at the mention of food. I haven’t had anything to eat since a piece of toast last night, and I couldn’t even keep that down.
I wonder if I’ve entered the twilight zone when Dylan returns with a tray featuring chicken noodle soup, freshly cut strawberries, buttered toast, and a bottle of water. It looks like a gourmet meal compared to what I’m used to. He places the tray on the nightstand and settles on the bed beside me.
“That smells incredible.” I nod at the soup.
“It tastes even better,” he assures me as he pushes his glasses up on his nose.
Why is the fact that he wears glasses so appealing?
