Page 63 of Head Over Heels

“Your mom invited me over for dinner tonight,” I heard myself say. “I met her earlier.”

His eyes warmed. “She has a tendency to do that.”

“I said no.”

“It would seem so, given your lack of presence tonight. Having you at the table would’ve made dinner a whole lot more interesting, though.”

I refused to be charmed by him.

Cameron licked at his lower lip, which stopped his smile from spreading.

“Clean towels are in the closet in the bathroom,” he said. “There’s coffee in the cabinet above the sink. No creamer, though.”

“Horrible hospitality,” I drawled.

He grinned.

His chest expanded on a deep breath, then his gaze dropped down to where I still clutched the cardigan. Then he dipped his chin.

“Sleep well, duchess.”

With horror, I realized that I didn’t hate the nickname. On the contrary, it sent a sweet curl of hunger through my veins.

He was almost out of the door, and I took a quick step forward.

“Thank you,” I said. “For checking up on me.”

Cameron paused, his eyes tracing over my face. “Call me if you need anything.”

I swallowed, managing a short nod.

He closed the door behind him, and I expelled a hard puff of air.

“Not complicated at all,” I muttered. “I’m sure this won’t change anything.”

Chapter 11

Ivy

The spare Wilder house had some magic sleep juju.

I’d slept in five-star hotels that didn’t deliver sleep that satisfying. Or maybe it was the trauma response from the creepy house and the creepy house ghost trying to kill me.

When the knock came at the front door, I snapped up in bed, heart racing when I couldn’t remember where the hell I was.

My hand shoved at my hair, and I blinked as my surroundings pierced the sleep-like the dead brain fog still lingering in my head. Morning light made the room soft and blue, and I realized I never closed the curtains when I shoved the pillows to the side and crawled straight underneath the fluffy duvet.

When I looked down, there was an epic drool mark on the pillow. With a sigh, I flipped the pillow over so I wouldn’t have to stare at it, thereby envisioning how I must have looked.

Another knock came from the door, and I scrambled for the cardigan, flipping my hair tie back into my hair. A large full-length mirror leaned against the wall, and I exhaled through puffed-out cheeks when I saw my reflection.

Lovely.

I shoved my feet into my slippers and shuffled to the door, praying to any deity that would listen that it wasn’t Cameron.

Knowing my luck, he’d be freshly showered, smelling like Hot Man and wearing some fitted flannel shirt, looking like you could order him straight from a fantasy catalog.

But when I peeked through the peephole, I realized I’d maybe prayed for the wrong thing.

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