Page 57 of After All

“You can watch more tomorrow while I’m at work,” she told him.

Well, he probably wouldn’t do that. He wasn’tthatinto it. But he really did want to find out what George was thinking. Okay, so maybe he’d watch one episode. Two at the most.

“Fine.”

“Let me help you up.”

“You’re coming to bed too, right?” he asked. She hesitated and he reached for her hand. “Spoon me, Trouble. That’s all I ask.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Well, okay, as long as there’s no forking.”

And even that made him hard. And soft. At the same time. In very different parts of his body.

* * *

She was officially pathetic.

Watching the guy sleep had been a little creepy, but lying awake to listen to himbreathe? God, help her.

She should get up. She should go to the Come Again and study.

But she didn’t want to. She wanted to lie here, with Scott’s hand on her boob, and listen to him breathe.

And not doing something she should, so that she could keep doing something easy that just felt good, was exactly what Jo would do. Which was the thought that pushed Peyton up to sitting and then out of the bed entirely.

She’d been listening to him breathe.

Fuck.

She quickly pulled on leggings and a hoodie, slipped on her tennis shoes, and grabbed her computer.

The Come Again. Coffee. People who weren’t Scott. That was what she needed.

And that was what she got until about two a.m., when she slipped back into Scott’s bed.

And listened to him breathe until two-thirty.

Chapter Nine

Scott gotfrom the bedroom to the bathroom before realizing he’d done it without a crutch. He picked his leg up and set it back down. There was a little twinge there, but nothing bad. He wasn’t sure he’d go much farther without the crutch, but this was good.

He ignored his bottle of pain pills and opened the cabinet to grab the ibuprofen instead. And there, on his bottle of mouthwash, was a note that said,It’s a fresh new day!

Scott stared at it for almost a full minute. Peyton had left him a note. A perky, peppy, not-really-like-Peyton-at-all note. On his mouthwash. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

He grabbed his crutch from the bedroom before heading to the kitchen.

Which was empty. Then he looked at the clock. It was after nine. He’d slept like the dead. Again.

Dammit, one of these nights he was going to not sleep through having Peyton in his bed. That was a hell of a thing—he finally had the girl sleeping with him and they were only sleeping.

But he couldn’t help but smile at the pan of muffins she’d left. She hadn’t just hustled out of the house without a thought. She was still taking care of him. And then he saw the canister of creamer. And the note.

I know you like French vanilla, but try this…it’s my favorite. I mean,caramel.

It was vanilla-caramel creamer. It was half-empty, which meant this container was from her house. She’d brought her favorite creamer over and was sharing it with him. And leaving him notes.

Really, really stupid to be turned on by that. But he was.

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