Page 77 of Christmas in Coconut Creek

I fell asleep. Horny, wine-influenced Ophelia made a grand show of herself, and then exited the stage before the final act. We were so close.Sofucking close. My skin still remembered his lingering touch. My lips twinged at the echo of us clashing. There were parts of me that ached for him, and only him now.

I sat up, comforter falling to my waist, my arms instinctually crossing over my bare chest. Only—that wasn’t the case at all.

I knew I’d fallen asleep naked. I knew that. The last recollection I had was convincing myself I could rest my eyes for the five minutes it took Frankie to find a condom. A quick power nap to refresh for a night of bliss with the handsome, hung pilot.

But as I looked down, Frankie’s white T-shirt from the night before was draped over my body, hanging nearly to the knees of his torn plaid pajama bottoms that sat on my hips.

He dressed me.

In his clothes.

I stared in disbelief. Where the fuck did this guy come from, and why on earth couldn’t it have been Pine Ridge, Colorado?

Heavy steps sounded outside the doorway a moment before it popped open, and a freshly showered Frankie traipsed inside, toweling off his long, wet hair. The cloth around his waist was hanging on by a thread. I could blow a gust of air as hard as I’d blow out some birthday candles and the thing would be cascading to the floor.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” He was carrying a mug of coffee in one hand, steam swelling from the top as he set it down on the bedside table.

“Is this for me?” I pointed to the mug, trying not to gape at his body.

“Of course.” He shrugged. “Sleep okay?”

“Great, actually.”

I felt like an idiot sitting there in his clothes, drinking the perfectly prepared cup of coffee he’d made me, gazing longingly at his happy trail that dipped beneath the towel, and not apologizing for attributing nothing to our mutual sexual agreement.

This was why my dating life was such a mess. I couldn’t even pretend to play the part.

“Did you sleep in this bed?” I asked. “With me?”

Frankie chuckled, opening and rooting through his closet across the room. “It’s my fucking bed, Ophelia. Of course I did.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “About last night…”

“You snore,” he cut me off. “Like a grizzly bear.”

My jaw dropped open, simultaneously at his words and his toned, dimpled ass as he let go of the towel and replaced it with a pair of black boxer briefs.

“Heard a lot of grizzly bears snoring, have you?” I crossed my arms. “When I drink I get…nasally.”

Frankie mimicked what I perceived as the sound of a chainsaw revving to life.

“Fuck off.” I laughed, ripping the pillow from behind me and launching it toward him, pegging him right between the shoulder blades.

He turned to me with a grin, fluffing out a gray T-shirt before pulling it over his head.

All right, maybe he wasn’t as disappointed as I thought he’d be with how the night turned out. My nerves took a back seat as I sipped from my mug and he joined me on the bed.

“About last night,” he repeated. “I had a lot of fun.” A heated look crossed his face briefly. His gaze drifted over his clothes on my body, no doubt reimagining what was hidden beneath them. “I don’t have any expectations, O. You don’t owe me anything. Just know if you want it, I’m ready to give it.”

He somehow always knew exactly what to say. We never had an awkward moment, our personalities meshed, we finished each other’s sentences. Two cogs on the same wheel.

And had a man ever looked so good in his underwear?

His competency turned me on more than anything as pressure flared between my legs.

“Right.” I swallowed. “I do—want to be given it.”

My chance to make up for the night before presented itself. Miraculously the wine hangover was minimal, but the same willingness was still filtering through my bloodstream. I danced my fingers across the cap of his knee.

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