Page 77 of Don't Bet On It
“Stop doing whatever weird thing you’re doing,” he ordered in a sleepy voice, catching me off guard.
I frowned. “How do you know I’m doing something weird?” I was honestly curious.
“Because you’re you.”
An insult was buried somewhere in there. I just knew it. “I wasn’t doing anything weird.”
Slowly, he opened his eyes. The only thing he could see was my face as I loomed over him. “You don’t consider this weird?”
I shrugged. “Do you know you don’t have any pores?”
“And good morning to you.” He shifted slightly, his lips curving. “I’m fairly certain that, no matter what you think, I have pores. They’re just small.”
“It’s not fair. Women pay exorbitant amounts of money to shrink their pores, and here you are. Do you even wash your face?”
“Most nights, yes. Last night, I had other things on my mind.” He gave me a wolfish smile and poked my side. Then he sobered. “How are you feeling?”
Did he think he’d screwed me into a hip injury or something? “You’re good. You’re not that good.”
His brow furrowed, then he caught up. “That’s not what I was asking. Although, to be fair, we both know I was that good last night.”
I liked that he wasn’t being egotistical. He was just telling the truth. Still, I wasn’t going to puff him up. “If you say so.” I poked his cheek. “Seriously, why do you look so good in the morning?”
“That seems like a question I can’t answer.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Well, think about it now.”
He made an exasperated sound deep in his throat. “Perhaps it’s just luck of the draw.”
“That makes it worse. I mean, zero effort—you don’t even care—and yet you look as if you walked off the pages of a fashion magazine.”
Color suffused his cheeks as embarrassment washed over him. “Thank you” was all he managed.
I snorted. “It wasn’t a compliment. I was simply lamenting that the only magazine cover I could be on isHomeless Hussies of the Vegas Strip.”
He burst out laughing, then he caught himself. “You don’t really think that’s true, do you?”
“Yes.” I answered with no hesitation. “I think it’s absolutely true. I look as if I’ve been sleeping in a wind tunnel, and you look as if you’ve never had a better night’s sleep.”
“Maybe that’s because I was sharing a bed with you.” He hadn’t meant to say that, which was written all over his face. Still, he didn’t take it back. “Are you always this energetic first thing in the morning?”
“No.” I turned rueful. “Normally, I’m a slug who never wants to get out of bed.”
“So what’s different this morning?”
“I can only think of one thing.” Slowly, my hand drifted lower on his stomach. “I know we said last night was a mistake?—”
“We’re very mistake prone of late,” he acknowledged.
“Since we already agreed that the morning and night count as the same incident, I was thinking we could make another mistake and then talk about what we’re going to do about all of this over breakfast.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You want to make the mistake first?”
“Don’t you?”
