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“Esme.”
“Hi.”Hi? What the fuck?I forced my eyes open and looked at him. He looked hot as fuck in dark slacks and a lemon-colored polo shirt, his hair gleaming and damp from his shower.
“I have lunch at my parents’ scheduled for today.” He didn’t look up from doing up an expensive wristwatch.
“Okay.” That seemed like such a strange way to say it.Scheduled.
“I’ve arranged for someone to drive you home. There’s aspirin and water on the nightstand,” he pointed to the nightstand. Just in case I couldn’t find it myself, I guess.
“Thanks.”
“Your bag and purse are there. I’ve also ordered some breakfast in. Eat as much as you can. It’ll help with the hangover. Help yourself to a shower and when you’re ready to go, I’ve left a number on the kitchen counter. Call Stan and let him know when to come get you.”
“Okay.” Such a conversationalist.
He seemed about to say something, then change his mind. “Bye.”
“Bye.” I watched him leave the room, listened while he walked down the hall. He moved about the living room for a few moments, then the elevator dinged, and the condo fell quiet. Holy fuck. I was in Wolfe’s home, all by myself.
I threw back the blanket and padded into the bathroom. It was a statement in luxury, of course. Dark marble tiles, a giant soaking tub, gold fixtures, a cabinet with fluffy towels. It was still steamy from Wolfe’s shower and the intoxicating scent of his shampoo and aftershave hit me so hard I groaned. The man really did smell good.
Pulling myself together, I stripped and went to drop Wolfe’s shirt on the floor near the shower. But I couldn’t help myself. I held it to my face, inhaling deeply, feeling my core clench. The realization that I was fast sliding into creepy stalker territory had me hastily dropping the shirt and stepping under the shower.
Standing under the water, I closed my eyes, letting it soothe the aches away. As I relaxed under the pressure, I remembered more about last night. The dance floor…the elevator. Now my blood was humming. The shower at home was the only chance I ever got for “me” time, and even that was rare, since the lock didn’t work. But I was all on my own here. In the same spot Wolfe had stood not half an hour earlier. Naked. Soaped up. Water flowing over his hard muscles.
Without conscious thought, my hands started roaming over my body, and my breathing deepened. I imagined him here with me, kissing me, running his strong hands over me.Stop! You can’t give yourself an orgasm in his shower. That’s weird.I pushed my wet hair back from my face and turned the shower off, getting out and wrapping one of those thick, fluffy towels around me.
I dried off as quickly as I could, dressed in yesterday’s clothes and collected my things together. The blue dress was in a rumpled pile on the floor and although I briefly considered leaving it, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He’d told me it was for me to keep, so keep it I would, even though I’d never get the chance to wear it again. I mean, where would I? The diner? Lacey’s Bar & Grill? School drop off?
I tucked it in the bag along with the shoes, neatly folded the t-shirt Wolfe had lent me, and left it on the bed. Oh, better take the aspirin, I guess. I downed it quickly, wiping my chin at the bit of water that I’d spilled in my haste.
Then I headed out into the living room. Another statement in luxury. An immaculate kitchen with cream, marble countertops and dark wooden cabinetry. Polished hardwood floors throughout, big leather chairs and couches in a light biscuit color. Floor to ceiling windows offering a spectacular view of Raleigh and beyond.
I looked around, trying to figure out what was different here, compared to where he was staying in Esperance. This definitely had more of a “lived in” feel, with a pair of sneakers near the elevator, some magazines on the coffee table, and a gym towel thrown over a dining room chair. This was his space through and through. He enjoyed living here.
The smell of fresh coffee hit me as I moved into the kitchen, followed swiftly by…omg, bacon? My stomach growled, which I guess was a good sign. I lifted the silver cloche on the plate and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. Bacon, pancakes, croissants, three types of fancy cheese and macaroons. I loved macaroons.
I drank the ridiculously delicious coffee, ate as much as I could, then accepted the fact that my time in Wolfe’s orbit was coming to an end. It was time to go home.
Finding the paper with Stan’s number on it, I pulled out my phone, ready to make the call. Then I froze, because underneath the driver’s number was another number. I turned the paper over to see if there was anything on the back. Nope. Just one word,Me:and a phone number.
Wolfe was giving me his cell? What the fuck did that mean? He walked out of here without so much as a backwards glance, no sign that he expected to see me again. Making me all sorts of confused and weird. And now I had his number. Before I could second guess it, I typed it into my phone, feeling an odd little hitch in my heart when the contact saved.
* * *
Stef crossed her legs, blowing on her mac and cheese, trying her absolute best to be patient. Failing miserably, God love her.
I’d set the atmosphere. Tele was off, music playing softly in the background, string lights the only illumination in my shabby living room. Two glasses filled with the boxed wine Stef had brought with her sat on the coffee table.
She let me eat two bites of dinner before she just couldn’t wait anymore. “Tell me everything. Don’t leave out a single detail.”
I tried to gloss over the start of the day, because I knew it would make her feel bad, but since Wolfe’s line of,‘I can’t stand to see you crying, all alone on your birthday. It’s fucking depressing. So we’re going out,’was how it started. It didn’t really make sense without that part.
“I’m so desperately sorry for that, Esme.”
I knew she was serious when she didn’t call me her little cream puff, or choc chip muffin, or any of the other ridiculous names she gave me. “I know you would have been here if you could have. I’m sorry Baltimore turned out to be a bust.”
“Yeah, well…” She shrugged, uncharacteristically disconsolate. “Anyway, straight back to you.”