Page 35 of Some Like It Hot

I feel a big hand slide over my hip and an arm wrap around my waist tugging me back. “Where are you going?” a husky voice with a British accent asks.

God, he’s sexy. “I have to go get things started downstairs in the bakery. But I’ll bring you breakfast when I come back up if you want to hang around.”

I really want him to hang around.

That thought hits me and my heart trips.

Yeah, I’m in trouble here.

And yes, I know it’s because Simon knows about my greatest weakness and is still here, being sweet, sexy, and charming.

“I definitely want to hang around. And it’s not just because of breakfast.” He lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss. “Or I should say, what I’m interested in eating isn’t down in that kitchen. Hurry back.”

I shiver with desire. “I will.” Then, because I can’t help it, I lean over and kiss him. “I’m glad you’re staying.”

Then I quickly slip out of bed. I dress in loose, light blue lounge pants, and a gray tank top with no bra since no one‘s going to see me.

An hour later, I’ve got all the morning basics finished and cooling, and I head back upstairs with cranberry-orange muffins for Simon and to shower and get dressed for the day.

Simon is sitting on my sofa, in the one clear spot where I sit to read and work. He is scrolling on his phone, dressed in only his boxers, but seemingly completely happy and content.

Out of habit, my body tenses, and I look around, bracing to see that he’s tried to tidy up, or organize things in some way.

Every single person, except for Dani and Luna, has done that to me. My parents always did it, though my mother did it more to keep my father‘s blood pressure down. My boyfriend did it. Another boyfriend actually hired a professional home organizer for me. I wept after she left because I had no idea where anything was. All I saw were plastic bins everywhere. I even had girlfriends who did it under the guise of trying to help. They simply thought that I didn’t know how to organize things. They didn’t understand that if I put things away, I wouldn’t remember where they were, and wouldn’t be able to find them again when I needed them.

They also didn’t understand that all of their “help” embarrassed me and made me feel infantilized and like they thought I couldn’t take care of myself.

I can admit that my system isn’t perfect, but the more I’ve read and connected with other people who have ADHD, I realize that I’m not weird, or wrong. Our brains are just wired differently and we need to live however we need to live.

But nothing seems to be different. Just that I know I have a hot Brit sitting on my couch in his underwear.

Simon looks up at me and smiles that I-think-you’re-amazing smile that he seems to always give me. “Morning, love.”

God, his voice, the way he calls me ‘love’, just everything about him makes me melt.

A flash of guilt goes through my mind. I’m kind of texting with Aidan with the intention that we’re going to see each other. But I barely know the firefighter. He seems nice, he’s definitely hot, and he does seem interested, but we just met. I know nothing about him other than what he does for a living. And that he’s pretty cocky. He asked for my number after finding me making out with another man.

I almost groan. Yeah, then there’s that other man. But nothing is going on with me and Blake. Blake Wilder has very nice big hands and fingers that definitely know what they’re doing when they’re up underneath a woman’s skirt. But that’s it. He walked off instead of spending the rest of the night with me. He didn’t even want to stick around for a New Year’s Eve kiss.

But he texted you. He wants to see you.

Yes, I’m being flooded by texts from two different directions.

But Blake’s grumpy and not at all sweet, romantic, or even really charming like Simon and Aidan are.

Still, Simon and I just started this whatever-it-is. I didn’t know he was going to show up yesterday. I haven’t done anything wrong.

You should tell Simon about Blake and Aidan.

What should I tell him? There’s nothing to tell. You aren’t dating either of them.

Yet.

Shut up.

Great. Now the voices in my head are arguing with one another.

“Morning,” I say, giving Simon a genuine smile. “How do you feel about cranberry orange muffins?”

---