Page 86 of Almost Enough

“It might,” I shoot back, grinning over the rim.

My gaze lingers on his sleepy, soft eyes, that sinful scruff shadowing his jaw. “So this is what Beau Sinclair looks like in the morning when he’s actually happy to see me. Damn.”

“Whit…”

“Oh hush. I’m kidding. We’re past that.”

He quirks a brow.

“I’m serious,” I continue. “All is forgiven. Especially because you look like a Calvin Klein ad wandered into a Folgers commercial.” I shift closer, nudging his thigh with mine. “You’re annoyingly perfect. Particularly with sex hair.”

He snorts and takes a sip of his own coffee.

We sit in silence for a beat, the morning sun rising somewhere in the distance. It’s disgustingly peaceful, and I kind of want to roll around in it like a cat in sunbeams.

Then Beau ruins it. Naturally.

“What are we going to do about your car?” he asks.

I groan, dropping my head back against the pillows. “Way to ruin the vibe, Sinclair. I was having a moment. You’re lucky you’re hot.”

Beau stretches, arm draping behind me, and it’s entirely unfair how good he looks doing absolutely nothing. “I get that a lot.”

I throw my head back with a laugh. “You’re so cute when you make jokes. But what’s with the car question? Are you itching to get rid of me already?”

He gives me that look. The one that shows fondness mixed with exasperation. “You know that’s not it.”

“I don’t know. You bring me coffee, cuddle me into oblivion, and now you’re trying to pack me a to-go bag. Feels a little suspicious.”

“You told me you had to reschedule your meeting for today. And you’re supposed to go shopping with Violet. And⁠—”

“Stop being reasonable,” I cut him off. “Yes, all those things are true. No, I did not think about transportation. I was too busy getting absolutely railed into another dimension to remember basic adult responsibilities.”

He groans. “Jesus Christ, Whitley.”

“What?”

“I was going to offer to let you take my car,” he says as he gets out of bed.

I blink. “Come again?”

“My Mustang,” he tosses over his shoulder. “Take it. I’ll deal with your car later.”

I scramble out of the bed after him. “Hold on. Your Mustang? The one you rebuilt? The one you wax more lovingly than most people hug their children?”

He pauses by the bathroom door. “That’s the one.”

“Beau!” My voice goes up a full octave. “You’re letting me drive her?”

He chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “You’ve been eyeing that car since the first time you saw it. Figured you wouldn’t mind taking it for a spin.”

“I—are you—holy shit. You do like me!”

I launch myself into his arms as he rolls his eyes. “Don’t crash it, Red.”

“Excuse you. I am an excellent driver.”

Beau tugs me close. “You wreck it, I’ll make sure you earn back every dollar of the repair bill. On your knees.”