Page 61 of Ripple Effect

She bites her lip, failing to mask her full-on smile. “It’s just ... you always look so handsome when you’ve just woken up. The mussy hair, that hint of stubble ... it’s this perfect mix of rugged and soft.”

I blink, surprised by the compliment, warmth flooding my chest. It’s not often I’m caught off guard by comments about my appearance, especially in my line of work, but Daisy seems to have a particular knack for it.

Clearing my throat, I give her a petulant smirk. “Thank you for the ego boost. If I want to impress you, I’ll just make sure to roll around in my bed first.”

“Oh, shush.” She flushes again. “You asked, and I answered.”

“Yeah, you did.” I scrub a hand down the side of my face, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “So, how was, uh, how were your afternoon classes?”

“Good. Boring,” she mutters. “I mostly just wanted to get back here to check on you. You know, you only sent me one text when you promised two.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for that,” I say sincerely. “I fell asleep until just a few minutes ago.”

“Ah, well, that’s good, at least.”

“Yeah, and I—well, I’ve been thinking. Before we get the rest of this week started, we should probably talk about us.”

She nods, serious once more. “Right.Us.”

“We’re in agreement to . .. stay friends for now? Especially while you’re still staying here?”

“Why would that matter?”

“With work, I’ve learned that boundaries are everything.” I reach across my chest, rubbing my bicep. “I’m used to setting them, respecting them, maintaining them. With us living together, those lines are bound to get pretty blurry.”

She nods, pursing her lips. “I suppose you’re right. Boundaries are important, so ...”

“So, until you’re fully healed from your last relationship, until things stabilize with my health, and we figure out whatthis is—” I gesture between us and then slowly swipe a thumb across my lower lip. “—it’s best if we keep things ... friendly.”

“Trust me, I’m so done with Logan. But yes, the rest holds true.” She sighs, her gaze softening. “Just friends, it is.”

I nod, not quite trusting my voice, so I let the words hang between us for a few long moments. Then, working to break the silence, I shift my focus toward the TV.

“You up for another one of Bentley’s shows? I’ve got our guy David cued up, just waiting to narrate some wildlife cycles.”

She gives a half-hearted chuckle. “I was hoping you might ask.”

Bentley, ever the opportunist, jumps onto the couch, sprawling out across the middle. It forces Daisy and me to start off on opposite ends, which is probably for the best. But as the documentary plays out, we inch closer and closer together, as if drawn together by some invisible force.

It starts off with a light brush of our fingers while stroking Bentley’s fur, an innocent enough graze, but it sends a jolt up my arm. We both pretend not to notice, focusing on the scene in front of us instead.

When Daisy shifts and Bentley jumps off the couch, she stretches her legs out and rests them lightly over mine. I struggle to swallow, acutely aware of the heat of her touch. My chest clenches, throat dries up, and I can’t help but glance over at her.

She’s absorbed in the documentary, her features soft and relaxed. But then her eyes drift to mine, and there’s a question there, a hesitation. Slowly, as if in a trance, she moves closer, tucking herself in the small space between my legs.

My arms, unsure of where to go, eventually find a place circling her waist, one hand resting lightly on her stomach. The warmth of her back presses against me.

For a while, we simply watch in this newfound closeness, an electric charge passing between us. But instead of feeling heavy with tension, the moment feels soft, tender even. The gentle sweep of her fingers over the back of my hand is filled with promise, with understanding.

At some point in the next hour, I realize she’s dozed off, her breathing deep and heavy, her head nestled perfectly under my chin. That signature strawberry scent fills my senses, grounding and intoxicating all at once.

Carefully, I slip one arm beneath her knees, the other supporting her back, and stand, cradling her against my chest. She stirs but doesn’t wake as I make my way to our now-shared bedroom. Placing her gently onto the mattress, I settle in beside her, drawing her close.

Despite the boundaries I’ve tried to set, I’m not upset that we’ve already skirted our way around them. Sharing this space with her—feeling her warm and content wrapped up in my arms—it feels inevitable.

More importantly, it feelsright.

24

---