Bet On It: An Age Gap Billionaire Office Romance(33)

I woke up the next morning having slept surprisingly well, even though I woke up confused about where I was. Then it all came back to me in a rush.

Running out of the house after Betts's fiancé tried to hit on me. Thinking that Reed’s house was the best place for me to go. And it was until I couldn't sleep, and I got up to get wine and ended up jumping him in the kitchen. After all that, it was a wonder that I slept so well.

Perhaps it was exhaustion from the day coupled with the sex and the silky-soft sheets on the most comfortable bed I’d ever slept in.

Now it was the awkward day after. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to sneak out of the house without Reed knowing this time. Besides, I got the feeling he was upset that I had done it the last time.

Then I remembered I'd come over in my pajamas and slippers. It was one thing to show up in the middle of the night dressed like that. It was a whole other thing to do the walk of shame out to my car and drive home like that.

I got out of bed and went immediately to the ensuite bathroom. My dark hair was a mess. I'd run out of the condo so fast, I hadn’t brought anything I needed like a comb or toothbrush.

I opened the drawer and found an unopened toothbrush and toothpaste. Deciding it was there for guests, I used them. I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it back after I found a rubber band in my purse. I had no choice but to put on my pajamas and the robe again.

When I was about as presentable as I was going to be under the circumstances, I made my way out of the guestroom and found my way to the kitchen. I heard movement. I peeked in to see Reed at the stove cooking up something that smelled delicious. The scent of coffee also caught my attention.

Most importantly, Reed was dressed. He wore jeans and a Henley shirt that stretched tight along his shoulders. His hair was damp, suggesting he just got out of the shower. He looked yummy. No touching, I reminded myself.

I stepped into the kitchen and his head turned to me. "Good morning. Did you sleep alright?"

I nodded. "I'll have to find out where you got your bed. I think that's the most comfortable sleep I've enjoyed in a long time." I doubted I'd be able to afford such a nice bed, even on the good salary he paid me.

“I'm glad you were comfortable." His piercing eyes stared at me, and I understood that his words were laced with something more. Like he wasn’t just concerned about my physical comfort, but emotional as well. That was the nice thing about Reed. Despite the fact that we kept breaking our vows to keep her hands to ourselves, I believed he truly did want me to be comfortable around him.

He turned back to the stove, rotating the knob and moving the pan to a different burner. He grabbed a couple of plates and began to serve us.

"Have a seat. I hope you like eggs and pancakes."

"I love eggs and pancakes, but you didn't have to go through all this trouble." I sat at the table, relieved that the awkwardness of last night was gone and yet sad that this couldn’t be more.

"What trouble? It's Saturday. Saturday isn’t right if pancakes aren’t included in breakfast." He grinned as he set the plate in front of me. "Can I get you some coffee?"

"I would love a cup of coffee." It was so strange to be waited on like this. My ex never made me breakfast. Or coffee. Even when I was sick.

Reed went back to the counter, picking up a coffee mug and pouring me a cup from the carafe. "I like it pretty dark. Would you like milk or sugar or something?"

"I wouldn't mind a little milk."

When he returned to the table, he set the coffee mug and the carton of milk. "I suppose I should put it in some other container."

I waved his comment away and picked up the milk. "That would be too much fuss and would make me feel like I wasn't posh enough for your home."

He let out a laugh. "I don't know how to be posh." He returned to the counter, picking up his plate and then sitting across from me at the table.

"I don't know, I think you're posh in some ways. This house is pretty fancy. You have your own dining room at two establishments, and people know you wherever you go. You’re Mr. VIP."

"Knowing people isn’t posh. Just because you have money doesn't mean you're fancy. I didn't grow up rich. And I don't think there's anything that posh people do that I feel compelled to do myself. I live exactly the way I want to."

"So, you like having this big house. I bet you could roller-skate up the hallway."

He poured syrup on his pancakes. "I like that bet. It could be fun to find out.”

“You were able to get all this from online gambling? Do you feel bad that you have built your home on the backs of people who've lost their money?"

He looked at me, his brow arched as if he was trying to decide if I was serious or teasing him. I suppose it was a little of both.

"If you have a problem with people gambling, you might need to reconsider your job since you create the materials that lure them in."

Oh. Yeah. "Well, it's not like you're forcing them or stealing from them."

"People enjoy games and like putting wagers on them. It's a form of entertainment. Yes, some people have a problem, but I suppose many businesses have people with problems using the products or services. Beer, wine, cookies."

"Cookies?"