Page 41 of The Billionaire Boss and the Barista

EMMA

She was used to feeling hungover after a migraine, but the dry mouth she felt upon waking, accompanied by the weird sensitivity of her brain as if it had shrunk, was new.

The likely suspect was the two glasses of wine she’d had with dinner last night.

She couldn’t drink because of her many meds, but if she was going to transition to a new medication, Emma needed to wean herself off the old one first. It gave her an unexpected window to enjoy herself a little. Which was why she had the answer to a question she’d never needed to ask.

Emma was a lightweight.

Maybe she’d had a higher tolerance before her accident. Since she’d been in her last year of college, that was a good bet.

Climbing out of her comfortable bed, she blinked and took a good look, the daylight revealing details she hadn’t noticed last night.

I can’t believe I’m staying here.

This guest room looked like a fancy hotel suite with its huge sleigh bed, posh furniture, and little conversation nook. Her middle-of-the-night visit to the bathroom had shown her a dimly lit space where everything was subdivided. There was a sink across from a big tub anda separate shower stall with more nozzles than the human body had parts.

Even the toilet had its own little room.

This morning she discovered her nightstand had a built-in mini fridge full of snacks and drinks.

Unreal. Emma took a bottle of water and drank, but the unsettled feeling in her stomach didn’t dissipate. If anything, it got worse.

This just proves what you suspected. She was not normal.

Any other woman who got a chance to spend a few weeks in a place like this would feel like she’d won the lottery. But it just made Emma anxious, her equilibrium shot.

That feeling intensified when she left her room in search of her clothes.

Clutching the towel, she backed up to avoid mowing down an almost-naked Garrett.

The man was wearing a very short pair of shorts and a pair of sneakers. Nothing else.

His sweat-sheened pecs were hypnotic. But why were his hands all bandaged? Had he hurt himself?

Concerned, she shifted to grip her towel with a single hand and pointed. “Did you burn yourself?”

Seemingly startled, he lifted his hands. “No.”

The combination of his answering smile with that muscled chest was lethal. “They’re wrapped because I was sparring with Rainer.”

Her brows drew together. “Sparring?”

“Boxing. We box.” He began to peel the bandages off, completely unselfconscious of the fact he was half-naked in front of her.

So are you,her damaged brain reminded her. “Oh, um. That’s stupid.”

His head jerked back. “What?”

She pointed at her head. “Risk of traumatic brain injury.”

The expression on his face was almost comical. She doubted this suave playboy had ever looked more uncomfortable.

Garrett coughed. “Well, we don’t hit each otherthathard. Not enough to do any serious damage.”

“Must be nice.” Emma tilted her head at him, stretching out the awkward moment for all it was worth.

He narrowed his eyes at her, suspicion making their hazel depths as bright as polished topaz. “Stop enjoying my discomfort.”

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