Chapter 33
thirty-three
Even though I know Brex has checked in with Reyna via text, and that my sister and her friends hung out with her last night, I need to see her for myself.
I’ve been going back and forth with the idea since I got up this morning, but ultimately, I talked myself into it.
Convincing myself with the lame excuse that I’m her boss—which puts me in charge of her well-being—at least when it comes to accidents on the job.
So, it’s fine, me showing up here. Unannounced.
I pull up next to her truck, which I had Justin and one of the other guys drop off last night, and cut the engine to mine, giving myself a moment to come to terms with what I’m about to do.
Deliberately put myself in Reyna’s orbit.
Scrubbing a nervous palm over my freshly shaved face, I grab the two lattes, breakfast sandwiches, and box of cinnamon rolls I got from Bean & Co., and exit my truck.
When I get to her door, I hesitate.
What if she doesn’t want to see me?
I have been kind of a standoffish dick. Most of it stemming from the fact that she left without so much as a fair thee well after all the naked time we spent together.
Underneath the relief, I’d let the pang of disappointment take over. Let it fester until it became a huge ball of resentment. Which I know now, wasn’t fair to her.
If the roles had been reversed and I had seen texts from some other guy on her phone, would I have confronted her? Probably not. I mean, we’d just met.
Brex was right when he’d said he knew I’d felt it too. The instant connection. The bright burst of lust.
Deep down, I know if she hadn’t left like she did, I would’ve pushed for more. I’ve come to terms with the fact that both she and Brex have the same undeniable connection—the possibility of us keeping her to ourselves.
But I can’t stop circling back to the fact that I’m her boss. And how a relationship, not to mention us as a throuple, could very well put my career in jeopardy, even if there aren’t any rules set in stone against dating a co-worker.
Blowing out a breath, I take a moment to get my head straight, then ring the doorbell.
Hurried footsteps sound, then fumbling comes from the other side of the door before a muffled curse hits my ears, making the corner of my mouth twitch.
The doorknob jiggles, like she’s struggling to turn it, then another muffled curse, and I have to bite back a laugh.
When it finally swings open, Reyna is paying more attention to the rug on the floor than to who might be standing outside her door as she attempts to straighten it with her bare foot.
The surprise on her face when she finally looks up is almost comical, and it makes me want to chuckle again.
But instead, I lose all train of thought as I take her in.
Hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, a couple of loose strands frame her face.
A cropped, loose white T-shirt shows off her creamy skin and firm abs.
Red joggers mold to curvy thighs, tapering down long, sexy as fuck legs that have been haunting my dreams for what seems like a fucking lifetime.
“Logan? Hey.” She blinks, still looking a little dazed. “What are you doing here?”
My cock twitches, and it takes every ounce of willpower I’ve got not to pop a woody right here on her porch.
“I wanted to check on you.” Holding up the coffee and food like a peace offering, I suddenly feel stupidly nervous when my next words come out more like a question. “Brought breakfast.”
Her eyes bounce over my face. Like she’s searching my soul for some ulterior motive I might have for showing up here without so much as a heads-up.
For a moment, I think she might slam the door in my face. Her lips part, close, then part again like she’s trying to find the right words to tell me to fuck the hell off.
Finally, she takes a step back, opening the door wide enough to let me in.
Her voice comes out soft but guarded. “Alright.”
The second I cross the threshold and go to move past her, I’m hit with the scent of vanilla and coconut. It’s everywhere—in her hair, on her skin, soaked into every surface. My body reacts instantly, blood rushing south so fast I nearly stumble.
I have to physically stop myself from closing my eyes and breathing her in like some kind of creep.
Gripping the coffee carrier tighter than necessary, I force myself to keep moving.
“Shoes.” Her quick, sharp tone cuts through my haze, making me turn around. “Take them off, please.”
Right. Shoes. I look down at my boots, then back up at her. One eyebrow is hiked above ice-blue eyes, arms crossed under her full breasts. The action lifts her shirt up even higher, gifting me with a view of even more soft skin.
“Sorry.” I toe off one boot, then the other, lining them up neatly by the door.
“No worries.”
Brushing past me, her skin grazes mine, sending a zing up my arm. I watch her bare feet padding across the light hardwood floors, hips swaying with every step, trying not to stare at her ass as I follow dutifully behind.
The entryway opens into a bright, airy living room. Light pours in through two big bay windows. Colorful throw pillows are tossed haphazardly across a plush cream couch, with a fuzzy gray blanket tossed aside at one end—probably where she was curled up when I knocked on her door.
The walls are painted a soft sage green. A bookshelf sits in the corner, crammed with books, with a large flat-screen hanging above a modern fireplace.
An open-plan kitchen butts up to the living room, boasting a four-seater island with cushy barstools tucked underneath.
Reyna slides onto one of the stools, tucking one leg under the other as I take the spot kitty-corner to hers. Close enough to still catch her scent, but far enough away to keep from doing something stupid.
I slide one of the lattes across the counter.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, not quite meeting my eyes.
Setting the bag of food down, I take out the breakfast sandwiches. “Where are your plates?” I ask, glancing around the kitchen.
She starts to push off the stool. “Oh, I’ll grab them—”
“No.” The word comes out a little on the gruff side, causing her to freeze mid-rise, so I soften my tone. “I’ll get them. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
Hesitating only for a moment, she sits back down, looking a bit uncomfortable. “They’re in the cabinet next to the fridge.”
I nod. Grabbing two, I set them on the counter before rifling through drawers for some silverware.
“So, how are you feeling this morning?” I ask, unwrapping one of the bacon, egg and cheese sammies.
Setting it and a cinnamon roll on a plate, I push it in front of her.
“Wow. This looks really good.”
Patiently, I wait for her to answer my question, watching as she takes a bite of her breakfast sandwich, side-eyeing me as she chews. “Is this why you stopped by?” she quips around a mouth full of food. “To torture me with more questions about how I’m doing?”
Narrowing my eyes, I give her a look that makes her stop chewing for a moment before she sighs. “The bump has gone down and I don’t have a headache anymore. And I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.” Swallowing, she reaches for her coffee and takes a sip. “Happy now?”
“Yep.”
We sit, eating in silence for a few minutes before I kick up the nerve to say what I came here to say. “I want to talk about what happened between us.”