19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
R ose
I feel something very wet and very cold press against my cheek, softly nudging me. But I don’t want to wake up. If last night was a dream, I want to stay right where I am, hovering somewhere between consciousness and the dream world. My dream world is full of Braxton pecs and abs, along with his talented and thick …
“Ewwww …,” I spit in disgust. Apparently, Honeybun had gone from pressing his very wet nose to my face to full on tongue-in-my-mouth kisses. Those are not the kisses I was dreaming of this morning. Far from it.
“Back off, Honeybun!” I try to push his short, stout body off of me, but he’s surprisingly strong.
“Okay, okay,” I finally laugh, “You have my attention!”
The late afternoon sunlight is spilling in through the sheer curtains of Braxton’s bedroom, and I know I’ve slept most of the day away. My body is achy, but it’s a sweet ache that reminds me of last night.
Stretching lazily, I smile, one hand stroking Honeybun’s head and my other hand my searching for Braxton on the other side of the bed, but it’s empty.
"Braxton?" I murmur, my voice still thick with sleep. No answer.
Honeybun must decide to take Braxton’s empty spot, doing that dog thing where twirl around several times to make a nest, before settling.
“I can’t believe he lets you in his house, much less in his bed.” Shaking my head at him, I scratch between his ears. He stirs, wagging his little white stub of a tail without bothering to open his eyes.
“No, really, Don’t let me disturb your beauty rest..”
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, the cool floor sending a shiver up my spine. I need to find Braxton. Maybe he’s in his office, buried in that book of his? I tiptoe across the room, grabbing one of Braxton's oversized t-shirts hanging in the closet, loving that it smells like him. Manly and with the faint scent of laundry detergent and cologne. Slipping it on, I feel the fabric engulf me. Its softness wraps around my short frame. I can’t help but smile, feeling almost like I’m wrapped in his arms again.
Sniffing the collar again, I turn to leave the room as just as a loud snore comes from the bed. Shrugging, I decide not to disturb Honeybun. He seems right at home here.
With every step down the hallway, excitement bubbles in my chest. I picture surprising him, maybe catching him off guard while he’s typing away with that intense look on his face, those sexy glasses framing his ice-blue eyes.
As I near the door to his office, I hear voices—a low rumble that makes my heart race. I pause, pressing my ear against the door. His voice carries through the thick wood, sharp and clipped, words I can barely make out.
"I'm not staying long."
My breath hitches. What does that even mean? My heart skips a beat.
"... done here," he continues, that rough edge of his voice cutting through the air. "Well, I'll be eager to get back home."
Home. The word hangs in the air, dark and ominous. I swallow hard, every ounce of sunshine I felt moments ago dimming. What if home means New York?
Staggering back a step, I clutch the doorframe, my mind swirling with confusion.
I feel Honeybun nudging my leg with his wet nose, snapping me back to reality. Shaking my head, trying to push away the dread pooling in my stomach. This isn't how I wanted this day to go.
"Come on, boy," I whisper. Honeybun whines softly, likely wanting to see Braxton. We make our way back toward the bedroom. Leaving isn’t what I want, but right now, I need to gather my thoughts, to get back to reality, and stop dreaming of happily ever after.