Page 9 of Impressing Brett

“Okay.” I watch as he quietly leaves the room, shutting the door with a soft snick. My hand comes up to my cheek. It’s warm where he touched me. It felt good.

I shake myself out of my trance. I don’t have time to ponder odd warm feelings for a man I hardly know. I have a mountain of problems. None of them are his.

I quickly strip out of my workout clothes while staring longingly at the bathtub. It’s so inviting. But right now, I need to take a shower. Brett is expecting me to meet him downstairs. I certainly don’t want him to come up here looking for me while I’m still naked in the bath.

There’s even a hamper in the bathroom, and I drop my clothes inside it, grateful for a place to put them. I wonder if Mr. Tidy cringes when someone is messy. I hope not. I don’t have the bandwidth for that sort of thing tonight.

After inspecting my options beneath the sink, I choose a vanilla-scented shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. I kind of wish I’d chosen the bath because the selection of bubble baths is inviting.

I turn on the faucet and adjust the temperature before I step in. Damn, this man’s guest bathroom shower is nicer than any I’ve ever been in. I wonder what his master bath is like and groan at the visual.

Closing my eyes while the water runs down my body, I can’t help but picture Brett in his undoubtedly heavenly bathroom. Naked. Standing under the spray of water.

I groan and shake the image from my head. I have no business thinking about Brett like that. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a kind man who has offered me a place to stay for the night. I’ll sort my shit out and get a hotel room tomorrow if I still can’t get into my apartment.

When I’m done, I dry off on the softest pink towel I’ve ever touched, wrap a second towel around my head, and step into the bedroom. The door is shut, so I aim for the suitcase. I have no idea what Eve might have sent for me.

I unzip the side and let it fall open. I’m grateful for several pairs of yoga pants and T-shirts. There’s even an unopened three-pack of panties. How kind of her. Who has unopened bikini panties in their home?

I pull it open, lose the towel and dress quickly. There’s a sports bra, among the other things. That’s the best she could do since we aren’t the same bra size, but I don’t need a bra now anyway. The T-shirt will do.

I hurry back into the bathroom, hang up both towels, and open a drawer, grinning when I find a comb and a brush.

In record time, I’m heading back down the stairs. Somehow, I’ve managed to ignore my problems for nearly half an hour.

I’m overcome with shyness as I enter the kitchen. Or maybe I just feel awkward. This is weird.

Brett is at the stove, and he glances at me as he slides a grilled-cheese sandwich onto a plate. He smiles. “There you are. Feel better?”

I nod. I didn’t think it would be possible for me to eat, but now that I can smell the browned, buttery bread and the chicken noodle soup, my stomach growls.

“Come.” He motions me toward the island, where he sets the sandwich plate next to a steaming bowl.

When I reach the chair, I boost myself up and sit, feeling oddly self-conscious with my bare feet and my lack of a bra. Maybe I should have put on the sports bra. My nipples are hard. I should have realized that might happen as soon as I entered a room filled with Brett Pauson. He’s once again using all the oxygen.

“You could share,” I mutter under my breath before realizing I’ve spoken out loud. I cover my mouth, my eyes going wide as I stiffen and glance at him.

His brows are furrowed. “Share what, Little lamb?”

I lower my hand and swallow. “Nothing,” I murmur.

He leans a hip against the island and cups my face for the third time tonight. “Share what, Lacy?” He’s not mad. He’s curious.

I swallow. “The oxygen,” I whisper.

His brows furrow as he smiles. “Am I using too much of it?”

“Always.”

He tips his head back and laughs. Jesus, his laugh is infectious. When he finally sobers, he meets my gaze. “I’ll try to cut down. I didn’t realize I was using more than my fair share.”

My face heats to a thousand degrees, and I reach for the sandwich to take a bite so I don’t have to look at him anymore.

He doesn’t budge. He leans both elbows on the island, not giving me an inch. In fact, his arm is rubbing against mine. He watches me intently.

I’ve revealed too much, and I feel foolish. I look at him. “Can we forget I said that? It was silly.”

“Not likely.” He smiles.

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