CHAPTER 11 KAYLEE
I’m comfortable when my alarm on my phone starts ringing.
Too comfortable. Way too comfortable. Like I could lie here all day and be perfectly content in this cocoon.
It feels like a dream here, and for a second, I think it is until I remember I slept in Ben Olson’s bed last night.
If only this were just a dream and not real life, then I really would lie here all day…but duty calls.
I’m warm and cozy, and I let the sound of the beeping fill the air a little too long because eventually the person whose arms I’m wrapped in shifts and a deep voice rasps hoarsely at me. “Are you gonna turn that damn thing off?”
I giggle, and I admit it’s a little concerning how good it feels waking up in Ben’s arms. “I told you it was going to be an early morning.”
“You can take the guest room next time if you’re a snoozer,” he mutters.
“A snoozer?” I ask, regrettably sitting up and moving out of his arms. I grab my phone and turn off the alarm, but the screen lights the room for a beat.
He shifts and tosses an arm over his eyes. “One who presses the snooze button.”
“Isn’t everybody a snoozer?” I don’t know that I’ve ever shared a bed or a room with someone who wasn’t. Each of my college roommates was, and Dane was, too. Apart from those examples, I haven’t really experienced many mornings with alarm clocks belonging to other people.
“Some of us hop right out of bed at the first sound of the alarm to get a start on our day,” he argues. “You know, at a reasonable hour.”
“Well not everybody loves their job the way you do,” I point out. “Besides, I’d hardly call five-thirty unreasonable.” I lean over and press a kiss to his scruffy cheek, though admittedly it is about a half hour earlier than I usually get up…and I did go to bed about an hour later than normal.
He turns his head and catches my lips. “Let’s agree to disagree on that one.”
I giggle as I get out of bed and locate my duffel bag.
“Since you’re up, I wouldn’t say no to a pot of coffee.
” It’s not my preferred beverage of choice.
I typically prefer Diet Dr Pepper for my energy boost, but one time I heard my brother say that he doesn’t trust anybody who doesn’t start the day with a cup of coffee, and if Ben feels the same way…
well, I don’t want to make a bad impression for our first planned sleepover.
He laughs as I disappear into the bathroom, and I’m frankly shocked to smell coffee as I walk down the stairs toward the kitchen a half hour later once I’m dressed and ready for the day.
And it isn’t just coffee I smell. “What’s that delicious smell?” I ask as I walk into the room.
“My cock,” he deadpans.
I roll my eyes.
“Homemade raspberry chocolate croissants,” he clarifies.
“Homemade? As in you took them out of the freezer and made them?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “It’s my Gramma Jean’s recipe. She taught me how to cook.”
My brows arch. “You can cook?”
He shrugs. “I have many talents. So far you’ve only really been introduced to the sexual ones.”
I laugh. “I don’t think that’s true. I’ve seen you play football, too, and smash beer cans on your forehead. And you can wear the hell out of a pair of gray shorts.”
He nods. “All true. And I can also cook.” He hands me a plate with one of his croissants and a couple slices of bacon.
“Figured you’d want something with protein to give you strength for your early morning meeting plus something sweet to start the day off with a smile, and since I didn’t know if we’d have time for sex, I made the next best thing. ”
I eye the croissant. “You’re comparing a breakfast pastry to your prowess in bed?”
“You haven’t tasted it yet.” He nods as if to give me the green light, and I pick up the warm croissant and take a bite.
And I nearly orgasm on the spot. “Oh my God, Ben,” I say as the flavors melt together in a delightful little fusion in my mouth. “This is fantastic.”
He brushes off his shoulders. “Told you. And you’re totally making your O face right now, which only proves my point that these are the next best thing to sex.”
“I can’t argue with you there,” I admit. “But really? This is my O face?” I twist my face up again as I take another bite, and he shifts.
“Yep. Definitely the same face. How much time did you say you have until you need to leave?”
I check the clock. “About ten minutes.”
“I only need two.”
I take another bite of the delicious pastry then start undoing my pants. “Then start my day with an even bigger smile on my face, Olson.”
He laughs, and then he does.
The smile lasts through the parent meeting, which goes as smoothly as one can hope these things will go, through my morning classes when kids ask me left and right if I’m really dating Ben Olson, through yet another surprise observation from Janet even though I’m not coming back next year and frankly whatever I do for the next week and a half before school ends is pretty much meaningless, and all the way through my afternoon classes, too.
In fact, the smile doesn’t fade at all until my classroom door opens at half past three, just as I’m shuffling the last of my papers for the day and getting ready to grab my purse out of my bottom drawer to head home.
I assume it’ll be one of the teachers in my department I’ve gotten semi-friendly with, or maybe Jason from Social Studies back to beg for tickets to a game.
And when I spot who’s on the other side of the door, my jaw drops open.
It’s not Jason. It’s not Kristen and it’s not Ashley. It’s not Janet or Mr. Delnor. It’s not a teacher at all.
“Dane,” I mutter, all the blood draining from my face. “What are you doing here?”
The voice I haven’t heard in nearly a year is as steady as it ever was. “We need to talk.”