Page 36 of Sticking Around

“It’s still early, but yeah, I should get up, clean this place, and bus back to my place.”

“You’re taking the bus?”

“Car. Broken. Remember?” I pick up the coffee again and take a drink. Mmm, hazelnut. “If I’m not careful, I could get addicted.”

He puts his hand on my bare leg and runs it up and down. “Are you talking about the coffee, or my cock?”

I glance down and, as if hearing the call, his cock jumps. “Maybe both.”

He leans in and kisses me, lingering for an extra moment before saying, “I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He stands, and I take in his most perfect ass as he goes searching for his clothes. “Where’s your car?”

“It’s in the driveway back at my place in the city. It wouldn’t start and I didn’t have the funds to call a tow truck. Last night’s tips helped, though. Your friends are good tippers.”

He glances at me over one broad shoulder, his brow cocked, a fierceness about him. “They better tip you well or they’ll have me to deal with.”

“Ooh, my protective hero.”

He winks at me. “Want to grab breakfast on the way?”

“You really don’t have to drive me and I can whip up something here. I make a mean waffle, and I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s like three cans of whipped cream in the fridge.” I don’t want him spending money on me, and I brought groceries when I came. Brighton told me not to, but I like to pay my own way.

“Okay, sounds good.” He glances at my cup. “More coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

“Why don’t you run and shower and I’ll drop a pod in the machine.”

“Not joining me?”

“Do you want to get out of here today or not?” he teases.

I tap my chin, like I’m debating that, but I do have a lot to do today, and I want to go over those apartments he saved for me to look at. I’m going to have to make some phone calls.

“Fine.” I jump from the bed. “Did any of those apartments you searched have open houses today?”

“Yeah, a couple. You want to go look?”

“I might do that later.”

“I can take you.”

“Aren’t you just Mr. Helpful today.” Of course, he doesn’t need to waste his day driving me around to see places. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”

Conflicting emotions flicker in his eyes before he gives a casual shrug and flashes me a grin. “I was going to go over some video footage of our games, but I have a thing for damsels in distress.”

I laugh at that, and throw a pillow at him. “I’m anything but, and thank you, but I can do it alone.” I do like how he takes his job seriously, even spending weekends going over old games to learn from them. Does that sound like something a jokester does—a guy who wants everyone to think he’s nothing but a bucking good time? As I think about that, I search the floor for my clothes.

“Okay.” I hear a crack in that one word and lift my head to see him. The second my gaze lands on his, he plasters on a smile, and it’s easy to tell it’s forced. Dammit, did I hurt his feelings? He steps up to me, playful demeanor back in place, and whacks my ass. “Go, shower.” I yelp and dart into the hall. I leave the bathroom door cracked, just in case, and my body is gloriously warm, my brain buzzing with happiness as I turn the water on and climb into the shower. I begin humming and when I catch myself, I laugh. When did I ever hum in the shower?

When was I ever so happy?

I wash quickly, rinse, and step from the shower to find Brady standing right there with a big towel, a hot cup of coffee and an appreciative smile. It’s that smile as he looks at me that makes me feel like I’m the most important woman in the world to him, even though I’m not. I take the towel and wrap myself in it, and accept the mug. A girl could get used to this. I don’t tell him that. No need to scare him off. “Your turn. I’ll get dressed and get to work on breakfast.”

He slaps my ass and I yelp as I walk past. Back in the bedroom, I pull on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and make my way to the living room to pack my books into my backpack. I glance around the big space, hoping someday, when I have a good job and a good paycheck, I can have a place like this to myself. God, why does that thought suddenly feel empty in the pit of my stomach? Spending one glorious weekend with Brady does not change what I want, or how I have always envisioned my future.

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