Page 62 of The Marriage Deal
24
AN ACHE SO LOW AND LOVELY
LILAH
Acrack of thunder wakes me well before I like to wake on a Saturday morning. With a groan, I roll in bed to face the window that shows a sky dark with the threat of rain. There’s a purple hue to the morning clouds that promise the violence of an early morning storm, confirmed when another crack of thunder sounds and lightning flashes.
I give up on sleep. It’s not that I’m afraid of storms. I’m not.
Icansleep through them, but who wants to miss the show?
Throwing the covers off my body, I fling my feet over the side of the bed in time to see Senior lift his head from his spot on the rug. Since he won’t sleep with me in the bed, I’d gotten him the cushiest of cush doggy beds. Has he slept in it even once? Nope.
“Mornin’ my boy.” I bend to give him a good full body scratch that has him grunting a doggy grunt of pleasure.
I stand, nab my robe from the hook and slide into it. As I tie it around my waist in a loose knot, I tell Senior, “Let’s boogy, boy.” I flick my gaze to the sky outside my window. “Gotta get you out to pee before the rain starts.”
I get another doggy rumble and together we exit the room. My heart gives a curious little flip in my chest as I spot the lights on low in the kitchen. It’s true the lights are always on low, because Briggs wakes every morning at an ungodly hour to throw back a coffee and ride, but this morning feels different. One there’s a storm brewing, so I’m not sure he’ll be riding. And two, I’m awake at least an hour earlier than usual. To boot, it’s a Saturday, the day of late snoozing and slow mornings.
Senior takes off before me and I hear a low rumble, “Hey, Senior.” The sound of the tags jingling on Senior’s collar tells me he’s getting another rub down. This one by the man I’ve come to find increasingly difficult to be around.
Not because I can’t stand him, though. It’s the opposite, in fact.
I’m starting to like him. A lot. Definitely more than I should.
I enter the living room to see Briggs opening the big sliding doors for Senior. The gate on the deck isalready swung open, so I know Briggs has been up for a while already.
My eyes dip to the mug in his hand. Yep, he’s been up.
And he’s been sitting outside on the deck with his coffee, clearly doing what I intended to do. Watch the storm.
“Morning,” I call, feeling the slam of his green gaze as it lands on me more than seeing it.
“You’re up early.”
“Storm woke me.”
Briggs meets me in the kitchen. “You don’t like storms?”
“I do, actually. Love them.” I rise onto my tiptoes for a mug—Briggs keeps them high. My fingertips swipe and miss. I feel heat at my back before a large hand hooks one.
There’s heat I’m determined to ignore in my cheeks and belly as I take the offered mug, setting it on the counter.
I mutter, “You really need to rearrange your cabinets now that you’ve got someone under five-foot-five living with you.”
“Well, aren’t you just a bucket of sunshine?” There’s amusement in his voice as he settles close to me, sliding his cup next to mine on the counter. I accept his silent request to fill his mug with fresh coffee.
“I’m perfectly happy.” I dunk two generous spoons of sugar into my coffee before pouring cream until it’spractically white. Briggs takes a splash of cream that can’t possibly change a thing. The man may as well take it black.
“Don’t sound happy.” He lifts his mug to his lips. His very kissable lips that he hasn’t kissed me with since that time in the park.
“I’m just saying. No one likes having to climb a mountain just to enjoy their morning coffee.”
“The mountain being…?”
I twist sideways with a huff to look at him. “The cabinets, Briggs.”
His brows swing up. “You climb the cabinets for a cup?”
