Page 20 of Timelessly Ours

Get a grip, Nicole.

Royce glances back at me. And then…he does an actual double-take. “Hi.”

I smile. “Morning.”

He sweeps his gaze once more. “You look…good.”

“I’m rested.”

“I’m glad.”

Tearing my eyes off his for what I know won’t be long, I slip next to Rory onto a bar stool.

Now, I’m not speaking for myself when I say Coach Collins looks great in just about anything, and top-notch in a suit. But damn the muscles straining out of that t-shirt and the slight peek of the bulge I caught when I scanned him is enough to melt me into a puddle.

It's why I’m not standing beside him right now, pouring myself a cup of coffee because, of course, he’s standing right by it. He probably smells clean too.

I distract my wandering eyes by fixing Rory’s hair, which is separated into two ponytails, and not even close to being symmetrical.

I get a whiff of his familiar clean cedar scent when he approaches the counter and moan. “Mmm.”

Royce grins. “Hope it tastes as good as it smells,” he says as he sets something down in front of me.

I blink at the cup of black coffee in front of me. “Oh…I’m sure it does. Thank you.” I sneak another glance up at him and pray he doesn’t see right through me because that would be so embarrassing.

He clears his throat and steps back to the stove. “Rory finished the last of the milk. I’ll need to run out to get more later.” His tone suddenly distant, professional.

Maybe he’s just getting into work mode? Or maybe he’s ticked off he needs to babysit me. He reaches for his own and twists back, leaning on the counter, his eyes on us.

"Black is fine.” I take a sip and notice him tense. “What?”

“It’s scorching,” he points out like I’m about to walk into the sun.

I laugh and wink to see if I can loosen him up. “Throw an ice cube in yours, then. I’ll take this as is.”

Shaking his head, he turns back to the stove and slides pancakes onto a plate. “I happen to like my coffee hot. But I prefer to keep the feeling in my tongue.”

My cheeks burn.

Maybe this coffee is a little hot.

Or maybe you’re blushing because he called attention to his tongue.

His cell phone rings, and he answers with a sigh. “What?”

I turn my focus back to Rory and peek at her untouched yogurt.

“Perry, I can’t make it, you need to move the meeting to later.” There’s a beat before he shakes his head. “This meeting wasn’t even my idea. Reschedule or cancel. And while you’re at it, tell him I’m leaning toward canceling.” He hangs up with frustration.

“Couldn’t find the right tie to go with those sweats?” I tease, seeing as how he doesn’t look at all ready for a work meeting.

“I need to take Rory to school first. I don’t like to wear a suit when I’m dropping her off.”

“Because you’re afraid the fabric will get caught on the fence?”

He looks at me like I’ve annoyed him for the third time this morning. “I just don’t.”

I nod once and try not to laugh. Angel has shared her father’s pain of excessive female attention, especially when dropping Rory off at her private school.

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