eyes. Maybe she really did want him to stick around for a bit? Or maybe she was doing the same thing he was and was hoping for a little backstory on his brother.
“Okay. Thanks again for the ride.”
Miles decided to go with his instincts. “Wait. Maybe I could go for a cup of coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.”
Chapter 6
T he moment the words were past her lips, Liz wanted to take them back. What the hell was she thinking? She was tired, feeling more than a little sorry for herself, and the pounding in her head was getting worse with every passing minute. All she wanted to do was stand under a hot shower, crawl beneath the covers, and try to forget this night ever happened.
He just drove twenty miles out of his way along icy mountain roads in sub-freezing temperatures so you wouldn’t have to spend half the night in the ER with the lovebirds. The least you can do is offer him a cup of coffee.
Well, there was that.
“I hope you’re okay with Keurig,” she said apologetically as she took his overcoat, discreetly sniffing the unique scent of cold air, Miles Grayson and Obsession. Alexandre Mattiussi. Nice. “Since it’s just me, the single cups are ideal.”
Way to go, Liz. Draw attention to the fact that you’re lonely enough not to warrant a four-cup coffee maker.
“Keurig is fine,” he said kindly.
She led him through the casual living space and into the kitchen, glad that she’d had the foresight to finish up her ironing and tidy up before her night out. He sat at the two-person breakfast bar (the only one besides Holly who had ever done so). Liz placed the rotating carousel of single-cup brew choices in front of him.
“Pick your poison,” she told him, while she topped off the coffee machine’s reservoir with bottled spring water. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him spin the device once and make his selection.
“Good choice,” she said, accepting the rich, dark blend. “That’s my favorite.”
He smiled. He had such a nice smile, she thought with a sigh. It revealed the slightest hint of a dimple on the left side and extended up into his eyes. If only he were here under different circumstances.
“You look beat,” he said. “Maybe I should be going.”
“No, please,” Liz said. “A cup of coffee is the least I can do.”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you go and get changed and pop a few aspirin and let me make the coffee?”
“That’s very kind of you, but –“
“Liz, go.” The smile he gave her was enough to make her heart skip a beat. “I think I can manage to push a button or two.”
* * *
N ow that he was inside, he realized his mistake. What the hell was he thinking? He shouldn’t be here. If he was smart, he would have just seen her safely to the door and left it at that.
He could still slip out quietly while she was in the other room. She would probably be relieved to come back out and find him gone.
Except... he didn’t want to.
Her townhouse was nice. Warm. Comfortable. Decorated in soothing tones of light creams, sandstone marble, smooth mahogany and deep burgundies that didn’t offend his masculinity. The light scent of roses and vanilla hung in the air, probably from the assortment of aromatic candles she had sitting on nearly every available surface.
Glancing around the cozy kitchen, he took in the spotless counters, the chef-quality knives, butcher block chopping area, and top-name juicer. It was the personal space of a woman who liked to cook, and took her meal preparation seriously.
The only thing that looked out of place in the zen-like space was the solitary birthday card propped up against the overflowing bowl of fresh fruit to his left. It featured a well-built, nearly naked man with the words “Happy Birthday” in cursive script across the front. A brief peek confirmed what he already suspected - that the card came from Holly, a.k.a., Trouble .
He looked
Back in the Saddle (v5.0)