Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
I tilted my head to look at him. His dark hair was standing up at odd angles, and there was a crease from the pillow across his left cheek. He looked rumpled and warm and completely open. Not a wall in sight.
“Morning,” I whispered back, not wanting to break the spell of quiet that surrounded us.
He leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of my head, and I felt myself melt into even more of a ridiculous puddle than I already was.
“Coffee?” he asked, shifting to sit up.
“Only if you promise not to judge my inability to function before I get it down.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, city boy. This isn’t my first morning serving at the pleasure of Adrian Hayes’s caffeine addiction.”
Twenty minutes later, we were in his small kitchen, moving around each other with surprising ease. He handed me a mug that read “Duct Tape Saves Lives,” while he claimed one that said “I survived driving school. As the teacher.”
“Is that yours, or was it your parents’?” I asked, accepting the perfectly brewed coffee with gratitude.
“Mine. I will forever carry the scars from teaching my sister how to drive.” Maddox moved to the small stove, already reaching for eggs from the refrigerator. “We finally have some time for me to make you breakfast instead of grabbing something at the Pinecone.”
“You going to cook for me, Sullivan?”
“Only if you like eggs,” he said with a wink. “Fair warning: I’m about to show off.”
I leaned against the counter, content to watch him work. True to his word, he flipped the eggs with unnecessary flair, sending them spinning in the air before catching them perfectly in the pan.
“The man has hidden talents,” I accused, grinning into my coffee.
“Years of practice. Dad used to do the same thing every Sunday morning.” His smile softened at the memory. “Maya always insisted he was going to drop them on the floor eventually, but he never did.”
I moved to the toaster, determined to contribute something to our breakfast. “Well, prepare to be equally impressed by my toast-making skills.”
“This should be good,” Maddox said, not even trying to hide his amusement. “Do you remember what Chief Kincaid taught you last week about fire safety? Do you need me to pull up the footage?”
Five minutes later, the smoke alarm was going off, and I was staring at two pieces of what could generously be called charcoal.
“Nailed it,” I announced, waving a dish towel at the alarm until it stopped shrieking.
Maddox’s laughter filled the small kitchen. “You’re a disaster, Hayes.”
“A very sexy disaster,” I corrected, moving to wrap my arms around his waist from behind. “Besides, now you get to rescue me with your superior bread-toasting abilities.”
“My hero complex thanks you for the opportunity,” he said, leaning back against me.
For a moment, I let myself imagine this being routine. Waking up tangled together every morning. Burning toast while he made perfect eggs. Fighting over who got the last of the coffee. It felt so natural, so right, that the wanting of it was almost painful.
I’d never had anything like this. But I’d dreamed about it for a very long time.
The fantasy was interrupted by the sharp buzz of my phone from the bedroom. I ignored it, pressing my face into the space between Maddox’s shoulder blades and breathing in the scent of his skin.
The phone buzzed again. Then again.
“You should probably get that,” Maddox said gently. It wasn’t the first time he’d pointed out messages I’d tried my best to ignore. I’d been blowing off many of my responsibilities, including updates from Vic, for days now. Reality had no place here in my winter fantasyland.
“It can wait.” But even as I said it, it buzzed again. And again. My phone only went off like that for emergencies or career opportunities. Given that I was three thousand miles from any emergencies, it had to be the latter.
The thought made my stomach clench.
“Go,” Maddox said, turning in my arms to kiss my forehead. “I’ll rescue the toast situation. But first—” He gestured toward the kitchen window, where a large box truck had just pulled up. “Looks like we’ve got an unexpected delivery downstairs. Give me ten minutes?”
I nodded, watching him grab his phone and disappear down the stairs. As soon as he was gone, I padded to the bedroom and picked up my phone with the same enthusiasm I’d have for handling a live snake.
Seven missed calls from Vic. Twelve text messages. And one email marked “URGENT” from Nordique’s marketing director.
My hands were shaking as I opened Vic’s most recent text:
Vic
CALL ME NOW. This is it, babe. This is everything we’ve been working for.
I hit his number before I could talk myself out of it.
“Adrian! Jesus, I thought you’d fallen off a mountain or something.” Vic’s voice was practically vibrating with excitement. “Tell me you’re sitting down.”