Page 48 of Buckin' Around

The thought turns sour in my empty stomach.

I guess time will tell. I pat the door frame and grab a change of pajamas before heading for the shower.

Three minutes and forty-two seconds later, I feel mostly human again and trudge my way to my bed. I don’t think even a catastrophic natural disaster could pull me away from my cozy bed now.

I’ll die exhausted and content under my duvet, thank you very much.

I’m pulled from a deep, heavy sleep by a scent making my mouth water.

Bacon.

With a groan, I roll over and face-plant into my pillow.

Only to snap up with my cheek hits a wet patch the size of my palm.

Urgh, gross.God I must have been out of it. The drool pool could fix a small drought.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand and push up off the bed.

Sitting on the edge of the mattress for moment, I grapple for my bearings. The blinds are down.

I swear I left them up when I went to bed.

I hate sleeping during the day. A couple hours max, or it messes with my sleep schedule.

Hauling in a breath, I stand and cross to the cupboard. When I’m dressed, I pad from the room toward the smell that woke me from my slumber.

Ivy’s pink bassinet is sitting on one end of the counter. Spencer has his back to me, bopping away to whatever is pumping through his earphones. Grey sweats hang from his hips, a navy T-shirt molded to his body. His biceps flex as he lifts the frying pan off the stove and slides eggs into it.

My mouth waters again.

This time, I can’t tell if it’s over the bacon and eggs he’s cooking or?—

He spins back, flipping out two fried eggs onto a plate. “You’re up! ‘Bout time, sleepyhead.”

I fold my arms over my chest and slide onto a counter stool.

“I am. How’s Ives?”

Spencer raises a brow.

I tilt my head, irritation tugging at my face. “What?”

He huffs a laugh before dipping his gaze to the frying pan. “Nothing, just. . . You never turn off, do you?”

“I didn’t think that was a very desirable trait in a live-in nanny.”

His brows fall.

Is that... concern on his face? His square jawline is tense on one side, his blue eyes homing in on me.

I squirm on the chair and avert my attention to anywhere else.

“Riley, have you ever heard of filling your own cup first?”

“What?” I look around the counter for said cup.

Another huff leaves his lips. This time, it’s a surprised sound.