Then it all came barreling back to me. I’d spent the night in Chris’s bed. Oh crap! Bolting up, I tore the blankets off of myself and saw that I was still wearing my clothes from the day before. I staggered out of bed toward the bathroom.
Thank god my hair wasn’t too messed up. Running my fingers through my hair, I attempted to smooth out the tangles. I swished away my morning breath with the mouthwash I’d found on the counter while I sat down on the toilet.
I don’t even remember how I got into his bed.
Finishing up, I quietly spit the mouthwash in the sink and washed my hands. My reflection stared me down in the mirror. I had to come out and face Chris sooner or later. Why did it suddenly feel like I was about to do the walk of shame? “It’s now or never,” I whispered to pump myself with some confidence. Gulping, I reached for the door knob.
The smell of bacon hit my nose before my foot hit the floor outside of his bathroom. I tiptoed down the spiral stairs.
“Ah, there you are, sleepy head,” Chris said with a smile. “Good morning.” He held out a hot cup of coffee like a peace offering.
He was wearing jeans and no shirt. I eyed him warily… him and his bare chest. The waistband of his jeans hung just below the waistband of his boxer briefs, and I tried to beat down the feelings rising up in me. Get a grip, Salem.
Reaching out, I took the coffee from his hand. “Thanks,” I said sheepishly, “How… how did I—”
“I was on the phone pretty late. When I came back inside, you were sound asleep on the sofa, so I carried you to my bed.”
Oh my god, he carried me? I glanced down, noticing he wasn’t clutching any strained muscles in his back, which was with relief. “And you?”
“I slept on the couch,” he shrugged like it was no big deal.
I smiled, a little embarrassed. I didn’t mean to put him out like that. I felt sure a blush was creeping up my neck. “Oh, Chris. You didn’t have to do that. I was perfectly comfortable on the couch.”
He shook his head, his biceps flexing as he grabbed a spatula to flip the strips of bacon in the sizzling pan on the stove. “I wouldn’t hear of it.”
I glanced at the floor. “Well, thanks…” my voice trailed. He seemed so nonchalant about it that I wondered if this was this a usual occurrence for him—taking women to his bed. Was I just one of many, but for obvious reasons, he didn’t sleep with me? And if the reasons are so obvious then why do I even care?
“Any time.” A coy grin was plastered on his face when I looked back up at him. “You hungry?” he asked. “I make a mean omelet.”
“Definitely.” I smiled as I sat down on the barstool at the counter.
His rippled abs and toned biceps flexed as he moved around the kitchen, opening cabinets, searching the refrigerator, and collecting ingredients. My eyes kept wandering as I sipped my coffee. Every now and then, he’d glance my way and would catch me staring, and I’d look away, blushing. He’d just grace me with that sexy as hell half grin of his and keep working. Occasionally our eyes would meet, lingering for a few seconds.
Before long, he slid a plate that was filled with a steaming hot, southwestern omelet and bacon. “Eat up,” he said. “I don’t get to do this often. It’s nice to cook in a real kitchen for once.”
“Thank you.” I scooped up a bite of the omelet and lifted the fork to my mouth.
Swinging his leg over the barstool and plopping down on it, he placed his own plate down in front of him. “You’re very welcome,” he said, taking his first bite.
After a few silent moments, he piped up. “Sorry about the phone call last night. It was my manager, Beverly. She wants me on the road first thing this morning, so we don’t have much more time together,” he muttered regretfully.
I nodded, disappointed. “Oh, it’s okay. I understand. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
Chris shook his head. “Oh, you’re not in my hair at all. I just wish I had more time with you. That’s the hardest part of life on the road—never staying in one place for very long. It sucks.”
Yeah, it does suck. I’d been wishing all morning for a little more time with him. I tried to stay positive. “Maybe the next time you’re passing through town we can do this again… spend time together, that is.”
He grinned, the same way I remembered from that day I handed him the guitar in the cafeteria. “I’d love that.”
Yes! I mentally fist pumped toward heaven.
When we were finished with breakfast, I washed up the dishes while Chris called Grant to make arrangements to meet me in the parking deck with my Elantra.