Colt looked up at her with a lazy expression. She could see the moment he realized something was going on, but she was too embarrassed to stand there while he scrutinized her. While he puzzled out all her secrets.
“I’m really tired,” she blurted. “I think I’d better get ready for bed.”
“See you in the morning. Let me know if you need anything. Doesn’t matter what time it is.”
“I will. Thanks.” She hurried down the hallway and into the pink room.
Angie leaned against the door and gulped in air, willing herself to calm the fuck down.
Unfortunately, it didn’t alleviate the problem.
He said to let him know if you need anything. You need something all right….
“No,” Angie muttered. She got ready for bed and crawled beneath the covers.
Sleep was a long time coming.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, Colt was up early as usual. It wasn’t seven yet and Angie’s door was still closed. He hadn’t heard her moving around at all, so he figured she wasn’t awake. He’d had a hell of a time going to sleep with her so near, but he’d finally managed it. He could still see the way she’d looked at him when she’d jumped off the couch and announced she was tired.
Her face had been flushed, and her nipples stood out very clearly against her sweater. If he’d been a betting man, he’d have bet she was aroused. He wasn’t quite certain why though.
Now he wondered if he’d imagined that part. Maybe she was just tired, like she’d said. He knew her well enough to know that she blushed easily. Could have been because she was embarrassed about being tired.
He couldn’t explain the nipples. It was possible she’d been cold since it was still late January.
Colt made coffee and sat down to log onto his computer. His email contained nothing exciting, so he closed it and shut the lid. The guys would arrive in another hour. He decided to make breakfast before they got there. If the smell didn’t wake Angie, he’d knock on the door. He knew she’d want to get dressed before anyone showed up.
He pulled eggs and cheese and mushrooms from the fridge, then grabbed a pan and threw in a pat of butter. He was just starting to beat the eggs when Angie’s door opened. He heard her go into the bathroom. The shower started.
“Fuck,” he said as his brain immediately turned to thoughts of Angie standing beneath the spray, stark naked, water dripping down her body, caressing her ivory skin the way he wanted to caress it.
Thoroughly. Completely. Everywhere.
“Stop, dude. Your balls are gonna turn blue if you keep thinking like this,” he muttered beneath his breath.
Colt forced himself to think about other things—the old lady across the street who always frowned at him. She’d flipped him off the first time he waved to her. It still cracked him up. The neighbor next door told him not to worry when he’d asked if he’d done something to piss the old woman off—park in front of her house, walk on her grass, block her driveway.
“She’s always been that way,” Mrs. Williamson had said. “Been angry since the day she moved in forty years ago and not likely to change. Don’t you pay her any attention, sugar.”
He hadn’t. Though at Christmas he’d noticed nobody came to visit her, so he’d left a fluffy new bathrobe in a gift bag on her doorstep a couple of nights later. Since she always got her morning paper in a robe that had seen better days, he figured she might need a new one. He didn’t leave a card.
Sure enough, she’d started retrieving her paper in the new robe. God only knew who she thought it was from. He wasn’t about to tell her. He’d paid less than thirty bucks at Walmart and it wasn’t about being thanked anyway. It was about making an old lady a little happier, if that was possible, for a few minutes or hours. Or, hell, maybe days. He’d never know.
Colt put the mushrooms in the pan and sautéed them, then poured in the eggs and whisked them around until they started to set. He added cheese at the last, then folded the whole thing over and slipped it onto a plate. After he polished it off, he prepared to make another for Angie whenever she came out of the bathroom.
A short while later, she emerged dressed in brown leggings with brown suede ankle boots and a loose top that clung to the curve of her breasts. Her hair was freshly blow-dried and she’d put on a little makeup.
“Good morning,” she said with a sunny smile. “Do I smell coffee?”
“Sure do. Want a cup?”
“Oh yes please. I can get it though.”
“Sugar’s in the bowl and there’s cream in the fridge. Want a mushroom and cheese omelet?”
“Is that what smells so heavenly? I’d love one, thank you.”
She poured coffee, added a healthy dollop of cream, then came over to lean against the counter and watch him. He could smell her shampoo—something clean and flowery—and he liked it.
“So you cook the mushrooms first?” she asked, a puzzled frown on her face as she concentrated on what he was doing.
He remembered that she’d said she couldn’t cook. “Yeah, you sauté them in butter until they’re soft, then you pour in the egg and mix it around. Almost like scrambling, but not quite. Then you let it start to firm up.”
“I tried to make an omelet once. I burned the pan.”
He stirred and shook and flipped. Angie never left his side. He liked having her there. He imagined this is what it would be like to cook for her after they spent the night in each other’s arms. He hoped that would happen soon.
“I could teach you. It’s not hard.”
“Oh, I don’t think you quite understand my ability to fuck
