The hardwood floor was cold beneath her bare feet as she padded her way out of the bedroom and downstairs to the living area. She found Spencer in the kitchen behind the island, sweeping up shards of ceramic that she recognized as the cups they had used last night. She must have unknowingly swept them off the counter. She went bright red at the thought and could barely look at the counter without blushing even more.
Spencer caught sight of her, and his eyebrows went all the way up into his hairline at the sight of her in his pajama top.
“Morning,” she murmured self-consciously, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
“Morning,” he replied, dropping the shards of glass into the recycle bin and rounding the island to stand in front of her. He was dressed for work already, and he dug into one of his jacket pockets for something. “I wanted to hang on to this in case I had some kind of hair-related emergency in the future. But you look like you need it.”
He scissored her messy bangs between his middle and forefingers and used the tiny butterfly clip she’d put in his hair just the night before to pin her hair back and out of her eyes. He trailed his fingers down over her cheek and leaned down to drop a sweet kiss on her mouth.
“Breakfast?” he asked after ending the all-too-brief caress.
“I should get home.” He nodded before turning away to reach for something.
“Not without coffee,” he instructed, dropping a mug on the counter in front of her. Daff hummed happily as her senses perked up at just the smell of the freshly brewed coffee and gratefully wrapped her hands around the warm mug.
“Sit down, I wouldn’t want you to slice your feet. I’m not sure I got all the shards.”
“Where are my things?” she asked, moving far away from the island and taking a seat in one of the huge easy chairs in his living room instead.
“You didn’t bring them out of the bathroom last night, so I put them in the dryer about ten minutes ago. They may still be a bit damp, I’m afraid.”
“It’s okay, I won’t have to be in them for too long.”
“Finish your coffee, we’ll take them out of the dryer after you’re done.” He grabbed a mug for himself and joined her in the living room, taking the chair opposite hers.
“Dinner tonight?” he asked nonchalantly, sprawling in the chair with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked much too relaxed for her liking.
“Can’t,” she said. “I’m meeting my sisters tonight; Daisy wants to discuss bridesmaid dresses.”
“Afterward?”
“I’m not sure how long it’ll be. I can’t give you a definite time.”
“I’ll be here,” he said with a shrug, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Will I see you at lunchtime?” she asked, hating the hopeful note in her voice.
“No.” She was ridiculously disappointed by his curt, unyielding response and strove to maintain a casual demeanor.
“Okay. Cool.”
They sat drinking their coffee in silence, and Daff couldn’t tell if it was an awkward silence or a comfortable one. He seemed comfortable enough, but she felt awkward as hell.
“I should get going,” she said after a few minutes, and he nodded, placing his mug on the coffee table and pushing to his feet when she jumped to hers. He was beside her in half a stride and cupped her cheeks in his large palms.
“Hey,” he said calmly, forcing her to meet his tranquil green gaze. “Relax. No regrets, remember?”
She reached up and closed her hands over his.
“No regrets,” she repeated determinedly, hoping to make it her mantra.
“So,” he said, keeping his hands on her face and his eyes steady on hers, “how do you want to play this no-strings sex thing? Nobody knows? Everybody knows? Only a select few know?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Siblings?”
“Daisy’s going to flip her shit if she thinks this may affect the wedding.”
“Hmm.”
“I don’t know what that one means,” she confessed, and his brow furrowed.
“What do you mean?”
“That particular grunt. I’ve been learning to decipher them, but that one always leaves me stumped.”
“They don’t mean anything,” he denied, and she scoffed.
“Please, you say more with your noises than most people do in a full conversation.”
“They’re just fillers.”
“They’re so not fillers, and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.”
“Hmm.” She giggled in response to that, and he frowned again.
“Wiseass,” she dismissed.
“It was just a grunt,” he maintained, looking a little freaked out.
“Nope, that one was facetious and meant ‘Believe what you want, Daffodil McGregor, you’re a nutcase.’” She deepened her voice to imitate his, and his resulting smile was a charming mixture of bemusement and amusement.
“First, I do not sound like that. Second, you are a nutcase. And third, it’s just a grunt.”
“Ri-iight.” He huffed in amusement and planted a kiss on her mouth without any warning. He took advantage of her openmouthed shock by immediately plundering with his tongue and leaving her completely shell-shocked and shaky after the stealth attack.
“Get dressed, darling,” he said hoarsely after ending the kiss. “Or I’ll be tempted to call in sick and keep you here in nothing but that pajama top—or less—all day. You look sexy as hell in it.”
She carried that kiss with her throughout the morning. She got to work after him and so missed his walk past her shop window for the second time that week. She sighed regretfully as she sipped her third cup of coffee—including the one she’d had at his house.
She couldn’t believe how fast things had happened between them over the space of just days, after so many years of buildup. If anybody had told her last week she’d be contemplating a sex-only arrangement with Spencer Carlisle this week, she’d have laughed them out of the room, and yet here she was, thinking about nothing but his tongue on her most intimate body parts. Reliving their moments together over and over again.
She was recalling it again, flushed and hot and breathless, when the bell above the front door tinkled and jerked her out of her little fantasy world. For the brief moment between looking down at her book and up at the door, she hoped with everything in her that it was Spencer with lunch, but she was doomed to disappointment. It wasn’t Spencer, instead it was a familiar-looking woman whom Daff was sure she’d seen before but never really spoken to. The woman was wearing an SCSS uniform, which explained why she seemed familiar. She probably walked past Daff’s store every day.
“Good afternoon,” Daff greeted uncertainly. “May I help you?”
The woman—girl, really—smiled broadly, revealing two gold-capped front teeth and a pair of sweet dimples.
“Hi, miss, I’m Chantal. Mr. Carlisle asked me to bring you this.” She held out a brown paper bag with a white notepaper clipped to the folded top. Daff took it automatically.
“Thank you, Chantal.”
“No problem, miss. Have a nice day.” Chantal waved and left the store immediately, leaving Daff to stare at the package in her hand like it was a ticking time bomb. She placed it carefully on the counter and unclipped the note.
Daff,
Sorry I couldn’t come around for lunch today, I have a business meeting at twelve. I don’t trust you to eat a decent lunch, so I prepared this for you.
Eat up, darling.
See you later.
S
CHAPTER SEVEN
“No! Mom, tell them I look terrible in yellow,” Daff complained after dinner with her sisters and mother. They were at Mason and Daisy’s place, and Daisy had prepared dinner. Well, actually, she had ordered dinner from MJ’s.
Daff had been completely distracted all evening, and they appeared to have finalized bridesmaid dress colors while she was off in Happy Horny Dreamland.
“Well, you agreed to it,” Lia pointed out a little smugly, and Daff sent her a death glare. Everybody liked to think that Lia was the nice one. Maybe because she dressed like a librarian, taught children, and spent all her free time helping others.
“I did not.”
“We literally placed the swatches on the table, Daisy asked what we thought about this one, I said I loved it, and you said, ‘Yes, very nice.’”
“Come to think of it, you’ve been saying ‘yes, very nice’ to everything tonight,” Daisy chimed. “Cravats for the men? Yes, very nice. Four-inch snakeskin stilettos for the bridesmaids? Yes, very nice. Daffodils for the bouquets—”
“I did not. I would never!” Daff shook her head, horrified. She absolutely hated her namesake flower. Every time a guy brought her flowers it was daffodils. Ugh. They always just assumed she must love daffodils.
“Yes, very nice!” her sisters and mother all chimed at the same time and then giggled hysterically. Cooper, Mason’s gorgeous mixed Labrador retriever, peered up briefly when the high-pitched laughter woke him from his nap.
“We’re not really going with any of those things, by the way,” Daisy said.
“Except the yellow for the dresses,” Lia chimed in.
“No! I hate that yellow.”