Carter Reed(20)

But as I went into the master bedroom and saw the king-sized bed in front of me, I just wondered what my new normal routine would be. I didn’t think it would be anything like my old life.

CHAPTER EIGHT

My first night was spent in a restless sleep. I didn’t know when Carter would come back. I didn’t know what he expected of me. Did he expect something more? Was I in his home for a reason, other than to keep me safe? I had closed my bedroom door, but when he got home I didn’t know if he would come to me. Or maybe I wasn’t there for that? Every time I thought I heard something, I jerked awake and my heart would start hammering in my chest. Then nothing would happen, so I would relax back in bed.

The last time I looked at the clock it was nearing five in the morning. When I woke, groggy, it was after eight in the morning. Three full hours of sleep. I looked around the spacious room, and everything rushed back at me. I sat upright, fully awake with no grogginess at all.

Unsure what to do or where to go, I slipped on a robe from the closet and headed downstairs after finishing in the bathroom. As I rounded to the second floor, I heard water running and coffee brewing. Then came the smell of bacon, causing my nose to twitch and my stomach to growl.

When I reached the kitchen, I braked. Instead of the grey suit from the night before, Carter stood in front of the stove in jeans and a plain tee shirt.

My mouth watered, and not from the food. Tee shirts had never looked that good before. Then my eyes widened as I realized what I was thinking. I’d never learn.

“Good morning,” he drawled, relaxed and composed. He had showered and his hair was still wet so the ends curled a little bit.

It was adorable.

Then I grinned to myself. Carter Reed was not adorable. Hot and dangerous, but not adorable.

“What is it?”

I shook my head. “It’s nothing.”

“Take a seat.” He indicated a counter. “Would you like some breakfast?”

I saw a box of Wheaties, bagels, orange juice, and a few eggs on the counter. “Breakfast of champions?”

He grinned at me. A bolt of warmth went through me. Goodness. I needed to get a handle on myself. It was moving into the pathetic zone.

“I was at the gym this morning. Breakfast helps me fuel up for the day. Help yourself.” He caught my eyes. “To anything.”

The gun at a horserace went off and there went my heart. It was thundering like a herd of hooves. I managed out, “Uh, coffee?”

His grin widened. He knew full well what he was doing to me, but he turned towards the stove again. “Or I could make you an omelet?”

“Oh. Uh.” My stomach rumbled, but I shook my head. “Coffee is usually my breakfast, or a breakfast bar on the run. I hit the snooze too much and am always late for work.” I grimaced. “Or almost always late.”

He checked his watch. “What time do you start work?”

I snorted. “After last week, I doubt I have a job there.”

“Are you sure about that?”

My eyes had wandered over to the coffee, but now they whipped back to his. A deeper look caught and held me breathless. Then a suspicion started to grow. “Carter, what did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

I studied him, but there it was. I saw it again. There was a spark of amusement in his wolf-like blue eyes. I sighed. I was starting to realize he could do anything, and getting my job back was probably something he could’ve done in his sleep. “You know Mr. Hudson, don’t you?”

His grin widened. “No, I don’t know Mr. Hudson. Who is he?”

I couldn’t tell if he was lying now. “He’s the Head of Beverage Sales. I’m his assistant.”

“Oh.” He lifted his orange juice and took a sip. “That’s good to know.”

Why was I getting frustrated with him?

He glanced at his watch again. “When did you normally have to be at work?”

“Nine in the morning.” I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”

“You’re going in like that?”

I glanced down at myself, in the robe with my bare feet poking out. Then I heard what he said again and my head whipped up. “You got my job back, didn’t you?”

He took another sip of orange juice. “I don’t know Mr. Hudson, no, but I am sparring partners with Noah Tomlinson.”

My eyes bulged out. “You know Noah Tomlinson? He owns The Richmond, Carter.”

“I know.” His grin grew wicked. “He owns all of them.”

I couldn’t talk, not for a while. The Richmond was a ritzy hotel, with a chain that spread nationally and internationally. It had global success and Noah Tomlinson started it all. Wait—did he say sparring partners? Feeling dizzy all the sudden, I reached out for the counter to steady myself. My hand slipped, and I would’ve fallen off my stool to the floor had Carter not caught me. He grabbed my arm. It happened so fast. I couldn’t look away from his hand as it was wrapped around my arm. He righted me back on my stool before he stepped back.

“Good reflexes,” I noted, breathless. “I’m sure that comes in handy when you’re sparring against an MMA Champion.”

Carter grinned and shrugged. “It does have its benefits.” Then he gave me a pointed look. “You are going to be late if you don’t get ready.”