Page 163 of Spicy Ever After
But I’m this woman’s guest—even if I’ve overstayed my welcome—so I concede with a nod.
“I’ll let her know.”
The look of surprise on her face as I shut the door in it tells me she expected to be let in, but that’s happening over my dead body.
This space and the night Hattie and I shared in it belongs to no one else.
I flip the bolt for good measure and turn back to the bed.
Hattie hasn’t moved.
I sigh.
I fucking hate to wake her.
She looks so goddamn beautiful. So peaceful, bathed in sunlight.
The morning sun makes the copper tub in the corner blaze, and an idea blooms.
If she has to wake up, at least I can make it good for her.
I choose a Community Coffee Mardi Gras King Cake pod for the Keurig and kick it off. Then I cross to the tub and turn on the taps. The gush of water in the copper tub beats and echoes like a steel drum. When I look up from testing the water temperature, Hattie is squinting at me from her pillow.
“Are you going to take a bath?” she croaks.
God, she’s so fucking cute.
“No,” I tell her with a grin. “You are.”
Even though she’s still sleepy-eyed, her face registers surprise.
I move back to the Keurig and Hattie rolls over to watch me.
“You made coffee?” She sounds more alert, and my grin grows.
“I’m making you coffee.”
When I don’t hear anything, I glance over my shoulder, wondering if she’s fallen back asleep.
But, no. She’s now propped up against the headboard, covers tucked under her arms, her hair swept over one deliciously bare shoulder.
She is a fucking vision.
And it’s more than her luscious shape or her ivory skin or her cinnamon-tinted hair I want to bury my nose in—it's the look she’s giving me that grabs me by the soul.
I want to tell her so. “You look so bea?—”
“I LOVE YOU!” she shouts over me.
Mouth still open, I stare.
I’ll be damned.
I should’ve guessed that the soul-grabbing look was love. What else could it be? I’ve probably been stumbling around with that look on my face for weeks.
But before I can say any of this, Hattie groans and pulls the covers over her head. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud!” she wails.
I’m at her side in two strides. “Hattie, honey?—”
