Chapter Eighteen
EMMA WOKE UP THE next morning deliciously sore—but alone.
She stretched out, frowning. Bright morning sun shone through the blinds, and seriously, if she was going to sleep over here regularly, she was going to have to take Hunter shopping for curtains sometime soon.
Her stomach dipped.
Was that too presumptuous? To be imagining spending the night often enough to merit redecorating his room?
Yesterday afternoon, she would have said yes. But after last night… after he’d told her point-blank that she didn’t need to be afraid of him walking away…
Nudging him about getting functional window coverings seemed borderline reasonable.
Turning over, she buried her face in a pillow, a wide grin curling her lips. The fabric smelled like him. Everything seemed like rainbows and happiness.
And even better than the scent of Hunter on the sheets, there was another scent beginning to waft through the air.
Bacon.
Her stomach growled loudly, and she laughed to herself. Between dinner and dessert, she’d eaten herself silly the day before, but apparently she’d worked up an appetite overnight.
With a groan, she got up. To her surprise, her clothes were folded neatly on the nightstand.
Next to them, Hunter had set out a plain black undershirt and a pair of boxers.
His thoughtfulness warmed her through. She pulled on the comfy clothes he’d been so kind to offer, shaking her head at herself as she did.
The shirt was a dress on her, and the boxers barely stayed on her hips, but that was okay.
There was a bit of a chill in the air as she padded out of the bedroom. Spotting a throw blanket draped over one end of the couch, she grabbed it and pulled it around her shoulders, snuggling into the soft fabric.
But when she arrived at the threshold to the kitchen, she wondered why she’d bothered.
A rush of heat flowed through her at the sight of Hunter, dressed basically in the same clothes she was, standing at the stove, frying bacon and flipping pancakes at the same time.
His hair was adorably mussed from sleep, and he was quietly grumbling to himself.
“Smells amazing,” she said, trying not to startle him and failing, based on the way he spun around.
Good lord, he was even hotter from the front—though it was a close contest. In that thin shirt, the bulging of his muscles was unfairly distracting. There was something unguarded about him, barefoot in his kitchen like this, and her heart gave a little squeeze.
She really, really hoped he wanted her to start sleeping over regularly.
Their gazes met, and he smiled, his throat bobbing enticingly. “Morning.”
Her lips curled up in reply. “Morning.”
They stared at each other like fools for a solid minute. Then he seemed to remember what he was doing. Cursing under his breath, he turned back around and checked the pancakes. They were a little on the dark side, but not burnt, and he slid them deftly onto a plate.
“Hope you’re hungry.”
“Starved. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble, though.”
“Wanted to.” Turning off both burners, he transferred the bacon to another waiting plate, lined with paper towels. He nodded toward the other counter. “There’s coffee, too. And we’ve got all that fruit from last night.”
She made a beeline for the coffee maker, which was blessedly full. She poured herself a cup and followed his directions to the milk. While she was in the fridge, she got out the leftover berries and a half-empty jar of syrup and set them on the counter, too.
“Thanks, by the way.” She gestured at the space he’d cleared on the island. Last she’d seen it, it had been covered in desserts. “I would have helped clean up.”
“It’s fine. You needed your rest.” His brows rose suggestively, and a full-body flush moved through her, but she wasn’t embarrassed. Rather, she found herself unreasonably pleased.
Still, she glanced away. “Can I help with anything?”
“Grab silverware?” He pointed her at the right drawer.
They made up plates, and then she followed him to the little table by the window. As she sat down, he seemed to notice the blanket she’d bundled herself in for the first time.
“Is it too cold in here?” he asked. “I can start a fire.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine.” All except her feet; the tile floor was freezing. “Don’t suppose you have a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers around here I can borrow, though?”
He chuckled, hopefully as amused at the idea of him running around in fluffy pink slippers as she was. “Here.”
He reached for her legs under the table, and she wrinkled her brow in confusion. But then his warm hands grasped her chilly ankles, and he hauled her feet into his lap.
“Oh,” she murmured.
It was an undeniably intimate position, but he didn’t make it weird or sexual. With his strong thighs radiating heat, he gently rubbed her feet, and she found herself warming up in no time.
Picking up his fork with his free hand, he glanced at her as if to make sure this was all okay, and she nodded. It took her a second to get comfortable, but once she did, she half wondered how she’d ever eaten breakfast any other way.
Vague memories of passing Brock in the kitchen while he made his morning power smoothie on his way to the gym flitted through her head. She’d usually spent her mornings cozied up with coffee and a yogurt bowl, with a good book to keep her company, and she’d never minded that ritual.
But this? This was something different.
“Is there anything wrong?” Hunter asked, looking up from his plate.
“No.” Her voice caught, because, really. Every single thing was exactly, perfectly right.
After they’d eaten and cleaned up, Hunter took a shower. With regret, she got dressed in the clothes she’d worn the day before.
She’d forgotten to plug her phone in, but fortunately it had a little juice left.
Charging it with the little battery pack she kept in her bag, she checked her notifications.
There were a couple of what she could only assume were spam calls, a travel update from her mother, and a few silly group texts from the crafting club, including one from Hattie showing off a new bright orange hat she’d apparently just finished knitting for fall.
After reacting to that one with a heart emoji, she tapped over to her favorite social media app, which had a surprising number of alerts.
Apparently, a post she’d made for the Cozy Nook Bookshop had gotten some attention overnight, and she grinned as she replied to commenters wanting to know more about the books she’d featured.
Notifications on her personal bookseller account were less numerous, but more of the people reacting and commenting were familiar—folks she was really building community and relationships with. She took more time answering these.
Until she hit one that made her stop scrolling entirely. It was a reaction to an artistic shot she’d taken of herself reading in one of the shop’s cozy chairs, with a bright bokeh effect radiating from all the fairy lights shining in soft focus behind her.
@realjian: Love it!
An unexpected pang fired off behind her ribs. She hadn’t heard from Ji-An since their fight, when she’d blamed Emma for not realizing what Brock had been doing when he’d bankrupted the company and stolen their life savings.
Seeing her name now left a strange, bittersweet feeling in Emma’s chest. She’d missed her old friend terribly, but Ji-An had disappeared when Emma had needed her most. Having her pop back in with such a normal, banal comment was equal parts elating and infuriating.
She sat there for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the screen while she weighed possible responses in her head.
Instinct told her to plaster everything over and try to reconnect, but she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to yet.
In the end, she just tapped the like button and forced herself to close the app.
By the time the water in the shower turned off, she’d mostly shaken it off, and had moved on to doing her daily word puzzles. She looked up from the screen when Hunter walked in, a towel wrapped around his waist, his bare chest on display and his hair a wet mop atop his head. Her throat went dry.
“So I was thinking,” he said, leaning in the doorway all casual-like, as if he weren’t scrambling her brain with his very presence. “I have to work today, but I have a couple hours free if you want to hang out.”
She picked her jaw up off the floor and swallowed. Seeing him like this shouldn’t be so distracting; she’d seen even more of him last night. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself from ogling.
Smirking, he waved a hand in front of her face, and she snapped out of it.
“Right, yeah, that should be good. I don’t have to be at the shop until a little before noon.” She pulled up her calendar app just to double-check that there wasn’t anything else on her schedule for the day. And did a double take. “Crap.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just. Sorry—might have to take a rain check on hanging out this morning. I forgot I promised Granny I’d walk her dog today while she’s away.”
It was his turn to boggle. “You? Walk Mercutio? By yourself?”
Standing, she pocketed her phone. “Yeah, is that a problem? She said he was a sweetie.”
“He is, but still.” He walked back to his bedroom, tugging off his towel as he went.
She wasn’t a fool, so she followed. “Still, what?”
“Nothing, just I’ll come with you.”
“You really don’t have to do that.”
She scarcely got a glance of his bare—glorious—butt before he pulled on a pair of boxer briefs.
He shook his head as he tugged open another drawer. “We said we were going to hang out. We can hang out and walk a dog as well as any other activity.”
“Sure, but this isn’t really what I thought you had in mind.”
Grabbing an undershirt, he stalked over to her. “I’m doing it with you, right?”
“Yeah?” She shivered, suddenly cold against all his hot skin.
Smiling, he ducked down and kissed her. “Then it’s what I had in mind.”