Once Upon a Dare (Risky Business)(27)
Olivia led the way to her apartment, pausing at the door to dig the keys out of her purse. Her hand shook as she handed them to him. Fortunately, she didn’t have a lot of keys on the ring, and he got it right on the second try.
He followed her into the dark apartment, thankful for the glow of city lights which provided just enough visibility to find the counter and drop her bags.
“Why don’t you get changed and lie down?” he offered. “I’m going to run down to the pharmacy and see if I can get my hands on that prescription of yours.”
She chewed on her bottom lip indecisively, but then nodded. “Imitrex. It should be ready.”
Fifteen minutes later he had secured street parking and made the pharmacy run, only to return and find Olivia sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and set it on her nightstand with the prescription. It would be there if she woke during the night and needed it.
Her soft snores called to him, reminding him of their first night together. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he remembered how soundly she’d slept, and how she’d burrowed under the covers. He indulged the memory by pulling her comforter up and tucking it around her shoulders. When a loose strand of hair fell on her cheek, he pushed it back without a second thought. Even asleep, she was beautiful, and for the first time, he sensed vulnerability in her tough exterior. He needed to comfort her, to reach out and stroke her hair, sweep his hands over her cheek, and take away her pain.
Seeing her there, so peaceful and serene with the moonlight casting a gentle glow across her face, he caught a flash of a different life. One that traded meaningless sex for evenings by the fire and the companionship of a woman whose happiness and well-being meant more to him than his own.
Only that life wasn’t really meant for him. He’d learned that lesson well. Even if he wanted it, he’d just screw it up and it would fall apart. Besides, it didn’t really matter what he wanted. Olivia would never give him a chance. She’d made that abundantly clear.
…
The smell of fresh brewed coffee teased Olivia, testing her will to stay curled up in bed under the covers. She fought the good fight for about five waking seconds before abandoning the effort, her stomach leading the way to the kitchen. She shuffled down the short hall, finger-combing her hair and giving thanks to coffee fairies everywhere for the heavenly brew percolating in her coffee pot. It was just what the doctor ordered after a skull-splitting migraine.
She froze when she reached the kitchen and realized Rufus the fish had company. Sitting at her bar, looking irritatingly chipper as he worked on his iPad, was Cole. What the hell was he doing in her kitchen? And why hadn’t she taken the five seconds to brush her freaking hair? Or her teeth, for that matter?
“Good morning,” he offered, giving her a dimpled grin. Figured. Of course he’d be a morning person, something she could only claim after two cups of espresso roast.
“You’re not the coffee fairy.”
“I know nothing of coffee fairies,” Cole admitted, grinning from ear to ear, “but I can offer you a piping cup and a hot breakfast. I figured you’d be hungry after last night.”
“I’ll be right back,” she said, crossing her arms over her breasts self-consciously. She was starving, but there was no way she was sitting down to breakfast with him wearing the world’s thinnest, once-white tank top and no bra. She wasn’t that hungry.
She bolted back to her bedroom and threw a hoodie on over her tank. By the time she returned, Cole had laid out a smorgasbord of breakfast food. He had croissants, eggs, bacon, fruit salad, muffins, and yogurt. It was overkill, but her stomach growled appreciatively.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he explained, “so I got a little bit of everything. I might have gone overboard.”
“Little bit,” she joked, pinching her fingers together. She didn’t know what Cole was doing in her kitchen, but she wasn’t about to let a hot meal go to waste when her cabinets were surely bare. She loaded up a plate and joined him at the bar.
“I didn’t want to leave you alone until I was sure you were feeling okay,” he offered as she bit into a buttery croissant. The flaky pastry melted on her tongue and she was sure she’d died and gone to heaven. She tore off a large chunk and popped it into her mouth. Simply. Divine. “You were in pretty rough shape last night,” he reminded her.
The concern in his voice ripped Olivia from her food reverie. Just as well. Probably best to clear the air before she ate herself into a food coma.
“I’m sorry about last night.” She sighed, dropping the half-eaten croissant to her plate. Why had he come home with her anyway? She knew from personal experience he had better things to do on a Friday night than play Florence Nightingale. “I didn’t mean to completely wreck your evening.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” He reached out and touched her hand, sending a shiver racing down her spine. “I stayed because I wanted to. It’s what friends do for each other.”
“Yes, I seem to recall hearing that last night,” she said, hastily removing her hand from his and tucking it safely between her knees. Now was not the time to let him get all touchy-feely, not when she still had warm fuzzies from him taking care of her the night before. “But, as you can see, I’m fine. Nothing a little sleep and a good meal can’t fix. Speaking of which, thank you for breakfast.”