Chapter 4
I was beyond responding.
He stood there with a medium-size pink box in one hand and
the other shoved in the pocket of his trousers. The five-o’clock shadow was
heavier, giving him a rough edge that my sleep-fogged mind found incredibly
sexy.
Okay. I would find that sexy anytime.
Any. Time.
He was dressed as he was the night before, and I had the
distinct impression he hadn’t been to bed yet, which really wasn’t fair,
because how could he look this good without sleeping?
One side of his lips curled up, revealing the left-sided
dimple. “Can I…come in? I brought crepes with me.”
I blinked.
“You like crepes, right? You have to like them,” he added,
grinning. “Everyone loves crepes and these are the shit. They are rolled in
cinnamon and brown sugar.”
“I…I thoroughly enjoy them.” My ass also thoroughly enjoyed
them. Moving back, I stepped aside. “How do you know where I live?”
Colton stepped in,
his chin dipped down. I wasn’t a small lady, coming in at five foot eight, but
standing next to him, I felt small, delicate even, and that was an odd feeling.
“It was on your statement. I probably should’ve called first, but I was on my
way home from the station and your house was on the way. So was the bakery.”
I didn’t know what to say as I closed the door behind him,
but my heart was pounding in my chest and my stomach was wiggling in a weird
way, sort of like the way I’d seen described a thousand times. Butterflies. But
more powerful. Like large birds of prey or pterodactyls. “You live nearby?”
His grin spread. “I live over on Plymouth Road.”
That was nowhere near my house. The butterflies increased.
“Oh. In the apartments over there?”
He nodded. “Did I wake you?”
“No. I…” That was about when I realized that I was wearing
nothing but a pair of sleep shorts and an old shirt that pretty much hid
nothing. I didn’t even need to look down to know that my nipples were most
likely noticeable. And my thighs? Oh, dear God.
My hair.
“I smell coffee though,” he said, glancing toward the
kitchen. “So I’m guessing not?”
He spoke as if he hadn’t noticed I had some major headlights
and chub rub going on, but then again, why would someone like Colton even
notice that in the first place? My attention flipped to the stairway. A huge
part of me wanted to rush upstairs and throw a Snuggie on. Or at least a bra.
I really needed to put a bra on.
“No. You didn’t wake me up,” I said, glancing back at him.
The air suddenly punched out of my lungs.
Colton was so not looking at my face.
He was looking below the shoulders, his gaze lingering in
some areas longer than others. Like at the edge of my shorts and then across
the chest, as if he were committing the words Penn State to memory. A tingle
buzzed to the tips of my breasts. His gaze gradually drifted up to my face and
those blue eyes…they reminded me of the core of a flame. Heat blossomed deep
inside me, infiltrating my veins. The intensity of it was shocking.
So much so I stepped back. “I’m going to…I’ll be right
back.”
That half grin remained in place. “Mind if I help myself to
the coffee?”
“No. Not at all.” I edged toward the stairwell. “Help away.”
Spinning around, I dashed up the stairs and into my bedroom.
Once inside, I pressed my palms to my warm cheeks. “Oh my God.”
I headed into the bathroom and saw, thank God, that my face
wasn’t blood red, but my cheeks were flushed and my hazel eyes, more brown than
green, seemed bright. Feverish. Turning on the cold water, I bent over and
quickly splashed it over my face. Oh goodness, I had only ever read about men
staring at women in a way that it felt like a physical touch before. I hadn’t
really believed it possible.
It was.
Straightening, I grabbed my toothbrush and quickly got down
to business, all the while trying to get a grip on reality. It didn’t take a
genius to figure out that Colton was here because of what happened last night.
There could be no other reason, so I needed to keep my overactive imagination
where it belonged, at work. Yes, it was odd that he’d just pop over, but maybe
he felt like he needed to tell me in person. And the checking me out? Maybe he
was just reading my shirt.
Okay. That was stupid. He had definitely been looking at my
breasts, but he was a dude and I was a chick, so these things happened.
Especially when you were nipply and you weren’t wearing a
bra.
I grabbed a bra and a pair of yoga pants I’d never in my
entire life ever worn while doing yoga. I quickly re-twisted my hair and then
resisted the urge to put makeup on. At this point, if I went back downstairs
with a peachy glow and to die for lashes, it would be way too obvious.
I couldn’t believe Colton Anders had seen me braless before
I had my first full cup of coffee. What is my life?
Ugh.
Ignoring the near constant flutter in the pit of my stomach,
I headed back downstairs. What I saw had the weirdest, bittersweet feel to it.
Colton had placed the box of crepes on the dining table and
moved my cup of coffee to the seat catty-corner to where he was sitting, at the
head of the table. A fresh cup of coffee was placed in front of him. There were
even plates and he’d found my napkins. And utensils.
It was so…familiar, and again, intimate.
“How are you hanging in there after last night?” he asked
without looking up.
“Okay, I guess. I mean, I’m trying not to think about it.”
Except that was a terrible lie. It was almost all I thought about last night.
He glanced up and the side of his lips quirked up. “I must
say, I sort of liked what you were wearing before more.”
My cheeks flushed red as I made my way to the table. “You
must be exhausted then.”
One eyebrow arched. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m never too tired to
appreciate the beauty of a woman who just woke up and is still walking around
in the clothes she slept in.”
I sat down, eyeing him like he was a foreign species. “I
didn’t know you were a charmer.”
“More like an outrageous flirt,” he corrected, opening the
box of crepes. “Obviously I’m not very good at it.”
Clasping my hands in my lap, all I could do was watch him
pluck up a crepe and plop it down on my plate. Was he saying he was trying to
flirt with me? That was definitely not typical detective protocol.
Well, not outside romance novels.
“I’m still shocked that it was you when I walked into the
office last night. God. How many years has it been? Too many.” He moved on,
picking up another crepe and placing it on his plate. “I really am sorry to
hear about Kevin. The one thing I’ve learned over and over is that life is not
guaranteed. Ever.”
“That’s true.” I glanced at the crepe. It looked delish, but
nerves were conquering my appetite. “It’s hard to deal with and move on, but
you do, even when there are a lot of moments when you don’t think that’ll
happen.”
“And you have?” He picked up a knife and fork, cutting into
the crepe. “You’ve moved on?”
“I…” The question caught me off guard, and I glanced at the
photo of Kevin. “It was four years ago and I…I will always love him, but I
have…I have closed that chapter of my life.”
His gaze flicked to mine and he didn’t look away as he
lifted a piece of crepe to his mouth. He ate it with pure enjoyment, as if it
was the first and last piece of food he’d ever devoured, and I couldn’t help
but think if he ate food with such gusto, what he was like eating—
I cut that thought off and quickly turned my attention to my
plate. Oh my God, what was wrong with me? Why I was thinking about Colton
eating…well, definitely not food. Then again, who wouldn’t think about that
when they saw him and those lush lips?
“So what have you been up to, Abby?”
My chin jerked up as my heart turned over heavily. “I
graduated from Penn State. Um, I worked in New York at a publishing house.”
His brows flew up. “Really? That’s impressive.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “Well, it was not an easy job to get.
I had to put my time in. Luckily, I was able to spend a summer interning while
in college. It helped open connections, but I was still an assistant editor by
the time I left. Kevin worked at a different publishing house. He made senior
editor in record time. Of course.”
“Why?” He was almost done with his crepe.
I smiled faintly. “The publishing industry sure loves their
boys.”
“Interesting. I didn’t know that.” He paused. “And you left
after Kevin passed away?”
I nodded. “I just…well, I wasn’t a fan of the city. Even
Philadelphia has nothing on New York. It was so damn expensive and I didn’t see
a point in staying there afterward.”
He picked up a second crepe. “And do you still work as an
editor?”
“Freelance.” I reached up, tugging a strand of hair that
came loose back and behind my ear. “I still freelance for publishers and for
indies.”
“Indies?” Genuine curiosity colored his tone.
“Independent authors—those who don’t work with a publisher.
Right now I’m working on Jamie McGuire’s new novel. It’s called Other Lives,
and it’s freaking fantastic. Sometimes my job is hard, though.”
“Why? Dealing with authors?”
I laughed. “All the authors I’ve worked with have been
great. Like Jamie? She’s one hell of a firecracker, but she’s a sweetheart. But
sometimes I just suck at remembering this is a job. Like I need to be paying
close attention, but I get caught up in the story and the next thing I know I
have to go back and reread an entire chapter. I’m hoping she hires me for her
next Maddox Brother’s book. I’m a huge…” I laughed, a bit self-consciously.
“Sorry. I can be a bit of a fan girl.”
“It’s okay.”
I bit down on my lip. “There’s nothing more amazing than
seeing a book you’ve worked on get talked about and loved or when it hits a
list. You feel like you’re a part of something bigger.”
Colton was grinning as he watched me closely. “You really
love your job.”
“I love books,” I said simply. “There’s nothing more
powerful than the written word. It can transfer you to a place that exists