CHAPTER THIRTEEN
K RU
There’s a certain point in the night when the blanket no longer cuts it.
My breath comes out in little white puffs on every exhale as I slowly wake up.
We’ve been out here for hours, my stiff limbs inform me.
My gaze drifts up to the inky black sky illuminated by the perfectly round and brilliant full moon.
I slip my phone out of my pocket and check the time.
It’s one a.m. My right arm has gone numb where Piper rests against it, but I wouldn't move for anything.
Not when she looks so peaceful. The worry tugging at her face all night has finally smoothed out, her breathing deep and even. One of her hands is curled into the fabric of my T-shirt as if she's making sure I don't slip away.
She doesn’t know it, but I'm not going anywhere.
I've known this woman for barely two months, but something about her has burrowed in deep. Sure, I fell in love with her during that first night in Cleveland, but it’s everything else I’ve learned about her since that has me desperate for more.
She stirs, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks before she blinks awake. For a moment, she seems confused, her gaze darting around until it settles on my face.
"You should go inside," I say softly. “It’s getting cold.”
Reality crashes back in. I can see it happening—the brief disorientation, then remembrance, the flash of grief tightening her features.
"I fell asleep," She pushes her tangled hair back from her face, which causes the blanket to slip off her shoulders. "I didn't mean to keep you out here all night."
"You didn't keep me anywhere I didn't want to be."
She looks like she doesn't quite believe me, but she doesn't argue. Instead, she wraps her arms around herself. I drape the blanket back around her shoulders. She blinks, still groggy for a few moments, then hurries to check her phone. She swipes through screens, nibbling on her bottom lip.
"Mom's in ICU, Griff went in to see her about two hours ago.” A shaky sigh escapes her. “She’s still in a coma but she’s stable." She sets her phone down, drawing a deep breath. “It feels like a win. Or maybe a loss. I can’t tell.”
“It’s too soon to tell. Which means you need to sleep while you can.”
She peeks up at me through her eyelashes. "That sounds like a good idea, I guess."
“You need help making it to your bed?” I’m not making a move. I mean it honestly. Though I can’t help but think about all the dishonest intentions that being in her bed would facilitate. Now is not the time.
I can be a friend to her. Even if I want so much more than that.
Her throat bobs. “Maybe.”
“Say no more, Maven.” I sweep her into my arms, hoisting her easily. A soft giggle escapes her, and she clutches my biceps as I pull open the sliding glass door. The house is dark inside, and I fumble around for a moment.
“Head to that hallway over there.” She points with her foot.
Once my eyes adjust to the low lighting, offered solely by the full moon high in the sky outside, I realize this place looks suspiciously like mine. In the narrow hallway, there are three doors: two bedrooms and a bathroom at the end, just like my rental.
“Which one are you?” I ask.
“This one.” She points to the righthand door with her foot, and I push it open with my shoulder.
A chaotic bedroom greets us, shadowy clothing piles on the floor, nightstand covered with jewelry, half-open luggage strewn around.
I’m the cause of this chaos, I’m aware. I gently set her down on the bed, and her eyes flutter shut for a moment.
“Sleep tight,” I tell her, my voice pinched. I want to stay. I don’t know why, but I do. Things just feel right with her in my arms. It makes no fucking sense, but here we are.
She blinks slowly, then reaches for my hand.
“Stay with me.” She says it so quietly I wonder if I even heard it. But it has to be real, because when I slip into the bed and bury myself under the covers alongside her, she hums with pleasure.
Piper fits into my arms easily. Like she was made for the space there. It’s the last thing I think about before I finally drift off to sleep beside her.
When I awake the next morning, the first thing I notice is that Piper is gone.
I wonder if I dreamt it all—until I turn over and realize I’m in her bedroom. In her bed. Water rushing from the bathroom down the hall tells me she’s getting ready for the day. I squint at the bedside clock—six thirty. Shit, it’s time for her to get to work.
I yawn and sit on the edge of the bed, contemplating life. Piper breezes in just as I’m stretching and rolling my neck. She casts me a sheepish grin.
“I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“If you’re going, I need to get going too.” My voice is extra deep from sleep. I rub at my face, trying to get my brain working. I’ve got a long Monday ahead of me. She does too.
She tips her head toward the door. “I’ve got a new toothbrush in the bathroom if you want it. I know I hate waking up in a new place without any of my stuff. You can use whatever you want in there.”
“Thanks, Maven.” I wink at her, and she bites her bottom lip. I slip past her and get ready for the day—toothbrush included—and try to make myself resemble a chef. My hair is messy, my eyes look tired, and dammit, maybe I’ll just go home and sleep some more.
When I head back into the bedroom, Piper is wearing teal leggings with an oversized cream sweater. She looks cute enough to eat.
I lean against the doorframe. “I think I’m gonna go lie down. Either I’m getting old or sleeping outside in early October isn’t good for the joints.”
She winces. “Sorry about that. It’s totally my fault.”
I roll my shoulders, wincing at the crick in my neck. "Nothing that some sleep and a hot shower won't fix."
"I could make you breakfast," she offers, then seems surprised by her own words. "I mean, if you want. Even though you just told me you wanted to sleep. Sorry, dumb idea."
There's something tentative in her voice, like she realizes she’s crossing a line. I should say no. I should go back to my side of the fence, take a nap, and resume that careful distance that's supposed to exist between landlord and tenant, rivals and neighbors.
"That sounds way better than sleep, actually.”
Piper’s grin wakes me up more than a cup of coffee could. She moves through her brother's kitchen with familiarity, pulling out eggs and bacon, bread for toast. I sit at the counter, watching her work. There's a grace to her movements, even at this hour of the morning.
"I specialize in sweet, not savory," she warns as she cracks eggs into a bowl. "So lower your expectations accordingly."
"I'll try to restrain my professional critique. Is there anything I can do to help?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "Just sit there and relax. I’m sure managing one more kitchen is the last thing you want to do."
“All right. So you want me to just sit here and look pretty.” I crack my knuckles. “I can do that.”
She snorts. “Right. Look pretty.”
"I’m only great at a few things, Pipes. Cooking, looking pretty, and…well…" I drag my gaze up to her. “There’s another thing I’m pretty good at, do you remember what it is?”
Her cheeks flush, and I know she’s remembering exactly what expertise I’m referring to—the way I made her thighs shake in Cleveland after I buried my face between her legs. But she doesn't take the bait.
"You want orange juice?" she asks instead.
“Yeah. But let me get it.” I get up and pour us each a glass, comfortable in the domestic rhythm of it all. It should feel strange, this morning-after routine when nothing actually happened between us, but somehow it just feels…right.
The bacon sizzles in the pan, filling the kitchen with its mouthwatering aroma. I'm hungrier than I realized, even at this ungodly hour. Piper flips the bacon with practiced ease, then starts on the eggs.
"Scrambled okay?" she asks.
"Perfect."
She works in silence for a few minutes, lost in thought. I can tell she's not fully present, her mind probably still at the hospital with her mom.
“So did you get any sleep last night?” I ask, knocking her hip. I slide her glass of orange juice toward her on the counter and take a big gulp from mine.
“I did.” She smiles up at me, her green eyes sparkling. “Thanks to you.”
“I’m available for cuddling whenever you need it,” I tell her. “Getting bad news; cold night on the couch; maybe you’re just too lazy to go get a blanket. You can call me instead.”
“Except I can’t,” she shoots back. “I don’t have your number.”
I feign confusion. “But Piper. I gave it to you once already.” I touch my chest, making sure my jaw drops in spectacular, outrageous fashion. “ You mean you didn’t keep it ?”
Her cheeks flush again, and she keeps her eyes on the eggs.
“Don’t be embarrassed that you tried to ghost me and then I moved in next door to your business. It happens. I mean, not often, but clearly it happens.”
She snorts, covering her eyes with her free hand. “Kru. This is so embarrassing. We’re supposed to never talk about it.”
“I know. You’ve been trying very hard to avoid this topic. I commend you on your agility. You’ve done an amazing job avoiding it even when directly confronted.”
Her cheeks are fully red now, but she’s shaking with silent laughter.
“I won’t even ask you why you ghosted me. We’ll save that for a rainy day when I feel like making you uncomfortable again.”
She sighs, shaking her head. “There’s no dramatic why, Kru. I’m focused on my business. My family. That’s it.”
I relate to that. But the connection we shared— still share —warrants some further explanation. Not to mention exploration. I’m a little frustrated she doesn’t share that opinion.
“So no room for the occasional body-shaking orgasm,” I confirm.
She looks up at me with wide eyes and pink cheeks. “ Kru! ”
“Just making sure we’re on the same page.”