Page 29 of Merry Mischief List

“So you’ll give me a ride?”

“To your place, with no working water, where you can’t even take a proper shit? No chance.”

“What do you suggest I do then?” I ask, sure he’s gonna suggest some rich man solution like a hotel or something.

“Stay here,” he says casually, eating another bite of food.

“Really?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

I stare at Porter, trying to figure out when he was body snatched and replaced with this totally relaxed, you-can-sleep-at-my-place version. “You only have one bedroom.”

“Okay? And I’ll sleep on the couch like I did the night you drowned yourself in sangria.”

“Oh…” I say, mildly disappointed but not surprised. He has set firm boundaries and made it clear hedoesn’t sleep with students, especially not students related to his ex, but each minute we spend together feels like I’m getting more of the real Porter and not the perfect, routine Coach Porter everyone else at CBU gets. “Are you sure your old man back can handle it?”

He glares at me. “This ‘old man’ can handle plenty.”

A flush sweeps through my body, and I can’t help but be curious about exploring those limits. We throw away the to-go boxes, and I follow Porter up the stairs to his bedroom.

“I changed the sheets earlier,” he says as we walk in the room.

“Were you already planning to let me stay over?”

“No, it’s Wednesday,” he replies.As if that’s supposed to mean something to me.

“Okay, and Wednesdays are…?”

“Sheet changing day.”

“Ohhh,” I coo, walking around the king-sized bed as he helps me fold down the large duvet. “So you’re one ofthose?”

“One of what?”

“Those ‘routine is routine is routine’ people.”

“That’s a lot of routines,” he teases, tossing a pillow at me.

“Well, I just meant you have a strict routine and don’t like to budge from it.”

He shrugs. “Guess so.”

“So what’s Thursday?”

A smile twitches the corner of his lip. “Cardio and grocery shopping.”

“Wow. Wild Thursday.”

“Wait till you find out what Fridays are for.” His eyes drop to the bed.Yes, please.“Well, uh, I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. You can grab some clothes from my closet to sleep in if needed.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind me stealing your room?” I ask. “I can take the couch.”

“Absolutely not,” he scoffs. “My mother would drag me by my ears if she heard I was letting a woman sleep on the couch while I slept on my ergonomic mattress.”

“Well, remind me to thank her for teaching you such wonderful manners.”

He pauses in the door frame and places his hand on the knob, forearm flexing in a droolworthy fashion. “Goodnight, Cupcake.”

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