Page 9 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

"When?" Her mouth gapes open.

"In the middle of the night?"

"Why?"

"Because I couldn't sleep."

"You couldn't sleep so you went out and got the four things I mentioned I ate?"

"I got some yogurt, too, it's in the drawer. I didn't know what flavor you liked, so I got a variety pack."

"What if I don't like yogurt?"

I turn toward her. "You don't like yogurt?"

"Of course I like yogurt, who doesn't like yogurt?"

"Vegans?"

"There's vegan yogurt."

"Oh." I turn my attention back to the coffee, pouring both mugs full once it's stopped brewing. Without returning to the previous topic, I say, "There's a couple different milks in the fridge. Two coffee creamers, and there's sugar here."

London pauses and I wish I could read her mind to figure out what snarky comment she's going to say before she says it, but instead, she opens the fridge and takes out the vanilla oat milk creamer. "What do you want?"

"That's fine," I tell her, mostly because I don't really have a preference.

I usually drink my coffee black, but since my morning is drastically different than usual, why not mix up my coffee for the day, too?

She makes her way over to me, her cast dragging across the floor. "I thought you didn't want me here," she says with certainty.

"I don't," I agree.

"Then why did you get me food?"

I shrug, unsure of it myself, if I'm being completely honest. Maybe I was planning ahead, preparing for the conversation when Silver convinces me I should keep the stray woman who showed up on my doorstep. Usually, I'm more rigid with things and my first instinct was to get as far away from her as possible, but maybe I could hear her out, hear him out, and try to do something good in my life for a change. She frustrates the hell out of me, but maybe last night was just a fluke and we got off on the wrong foot.

"Sounded good."

"Do you even like strawberries, Archer?"

"Who doesn't like strawberries?" She walks over, yanks the container out of the fridge, and pops the top, pulling out a plump berry.

"You should really wash that—" But I'm too late. She puts the thing into her mouth before I can stop her.

London shoves the container back into the fridge and shuts the door with her hip, returning to my side, half-eaten strawberry in her hand.

Maybe getting her some food was a bad idea after all.

"Here." I shove a mug of coffee toward her. "But be careful it's?—"

She takes a drink, not daring to heed my warning. London winces. "Shit, that's hot."

"If you'd have waited two seconds and let me finish my sentence, then you wouldn't have burnt yourself."

London mumbles something under her breath and takes the cup of coffee between her hands and strolls over to the stool at the island in my kitchen. I find myself holding my breath, the anticipation of whether she's going to make a mess unnerving me. How can one tiny human create such a disaster in her wake?

She settles into the chair, and I lean against the counter, my arms folded across my chest, waiting for whatever smart-ass thing she's about to say.

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