Chapter 11

chapter

eleven

Owen

“Coffee. Need coffee and Vitamin C in an IV, stat.”

I turn from the stove and let relief flood through me as a hungover Daisy shuffles in. She looks cute in a satin bathrobe and matching sleep mask perched on her forehead.

I plate the scrambled eggs and grab a mug, pouring her a cup of fresh coffee from the pot.

She shuffles over to me and takes it. “Thank you,” she croaks, taking a sip. “I’m not sure why you’re still here, but thank you for making coffee.”

I chuckle, “You’re not sure why I’m still here?”

“Hmm. I remember getting very drunk last night and you taking me home. I remember the glass of water, the headache pill…you taking off my shoes and putting a blanket over me.

“I remember…I remember grabbing your arm and babbling like an idiot. God, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” I ask, pulling the crispy bacon from the oven.

She touches the spot where I kissed her last night.

I try to focus on plating breakfast while my body buzzes, knowing that I stayed awake all night watching over her, listening to her breathing, making sure she was OK.

Yep. I did it. I spent the night in her bed.

“Oh god, what about Graham?”

“Graham’s at my mom’s house,” I say calmly.

“She kept him all night because you were taking care of me? I’m the worst,” she groans, slouching into a stool at the breakfast bar.

“As much as I would love to tease you about that, no. The sleepover was planned. She’s dropping him off at my house in two hours. I’ve got all morning.”

I am not saying this to make her think I want anything from her, but I do want her to know I’m available. Very available.

I think I’ve made that clear with the sheer amount of food I’ve prepared. The island is covered with an array of sliced fresh fruit, breakfast meats, biscuits, and croissants.

“Wow, look at all this!” she says, sipping her coffee. “Did you go to the store?”

I can feel her staring as I switch off the oven.

“For a doctor who’s into nutrition,” I say as Daisy takes the plate I offer her, “you gave me very little to work with this morning.”

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she says with a shy smile.

I like this. I like being in her kitchen, making her food, and taking care of her. She takes care of everyone in this town, and now I’m taking care of her. It’s a great feeling.

“The best hangover cure is a good breakfast,” I say.

“God, I’m so embarrassed,” she says, poking a fork at her eggs.

I don’t know what compels me, but my hand goes to her upper back, rubbing the area between her shoulder blades.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

She sighs. “I got drunk on our date and behaved like a lunatic. And now I’ve inconvenienced two people. Three people, if you include Graham, which I do.”

“Hey,” I say, setting down the second plate of eggs. I grip the barstool seat, swiveling it until she’s forced to look at me. My free hand reaches for her, nesting in that warm space where her shoulder meets her soft, pretty throat. My thumb rests on the small inch of collarbone exposed at the collar of her bathrobe.

“I told you the sleepover for Graham was planned. But I’ll have you know it’s a total of four people you inconvenienced because I called in extra help to take care of the farm this morning.”

She blanches.

“Oh god, I’m a vampire and I didn’t even eat any red velvet cake this time. I ruined our date and ruined everyone’s Sunday. I’m never drinking again,” she says.

“Daisy, calm down,” I say. “I’m teasing you.”

She blinks up at me with her big, beautiful eyes.

“So, none of that’s true? You didn’t call in extra help because of me?”

And now it’s time to tell her the whole truth. “Everything was already arranged ahead of time, just in case.”

“Just in case?” Her eyes land on my mouth, then dart back up to meet my gaze.

“In case our date went really, really well.”

She mulls this over for a moment.

Her throat bobs.

Without overthinking it, I brush the sleep mask out of my way, letting it fall to the floor so I can run my fingers through her hair.

“How well were you expecting our date to go?” She licks her lips. Inwardly, I groan.

“Not expecting,” I say. “Hoping.”

Her lashes flutter as her gaze lands on my mouth once again. “Oh. Well, that’s a different thing altogether,” she says.

Daisy tilts her head ever so slightly to the side when our noses almost touch.

Her half-whisper is shaky. “I must look like hell. I’m sure my breath?—”

She doesn’t get to finish that sentence.

All our words and thoughts float away like dandelion fluff when those full lips meet mine.

The hand at the base of her throat drags backward, possessively folding around the nape of her neck.

Her soft gasp flutters against my neck when I pull away to speak low and slow, directly against the shell of her ear. “You are perfect to me, Daisy.”

With soft kisses to her collarbone, my mouth works its way to the base of her throat. Daisy’s hands slip around my upper torso, warm and clingy and needy. Just how I want her to be with me.

She rolls her head back, letting me cover her neck with long, slow kisses.

I let go of the barstool and take a gratifying handful of her hip, luscious and full through the slippery material of her bathrobe.

The feel of her fingertips scraping and tugging at the material of my tee shirt has my cock jerking, aching to be inside her. Now.

Damn, what this woman does to me.

The barest tip of my tongue teases the skin at the valley between her collarbones. Her moans make me coil tighter and tighter. And I’m on the verge of snapping.

The collar of her bathrobe gives way. I tug at the knot at the front, and the material falls open, exposing her thin tee-shirt, her sweet little nipples jutting out.

“So fucking pretty.”

I kiss my way down the front of her shirt, low enough that one of her erect nipples pushes against my jaw, and I groan as I fight back the urge to rip this flimsy tee shirt off her. And her robe. And that criminally tiny pink thong.

“Um, Owen?” Daisy rasps.

The question in her voice gives me pause, and I pull back to meet her gaze.

“You want me to stop? We’ll stop.”

She bites her bottom lip, then says, “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“I know, babe. I wouldn’t expect a doctor to go further without discussing the important stuff. My mom made sure I had condoms this time, and I got a clean bill of health.”

She smirks. “Seven years ago. I looked at your files, remember?”

I laugh.

“And I’ve got an IUD just so you know. But that’s not what I was going to talk to you about.”

“You married?”

“No.”

“Virgin?”

“No,” she says, laughing. “Let me finish.”

“Go for it.”

“I … I don’t want to be fake with you.”

“Sweetheart, that’s the last thing I would worry about with you,” I say.

I can tell this isn’t easy for her.

“But I’ve been a little fake with guys in the past. If things go any further, I don’t want to be disappointed.”

I don’t give a shit about anything else she’s done or not done before me, but I can see on her face she’s worried. Someone in her past has been let down by something about her, and I’m ready for whatever that might be.

Because there’s no way in hell anything about her would disappoint me.