Page 62 of The Fantasy League
“Not funny,” he huffed, though the edge of his lips budged the tiniest bit. Oh god, and that deep, raspy morning voice. The good news was that if he ever got injured and couldn’t play in the league anymore, he’d have ahellof a second career making audio porn. “Did you sleep alright?”
“Fantastic. You?” My voice rose an octave when I spoke.
“Same… for the most part, at least.”
Uhhh, okay… wasn’t entirely sure what that was supposed to mean but alright.
Abel filled his third plate of the morning with another waffle, some eggs, and three pieces of bacon while I twirled my fork around my plate, toying with the few bites I had left.
“So about last night?” he started.
Oh god. Oh god.
We were going there. Right now. At the breakfast table.
It was hardly eight in the morning! I hadn’t even had time yet to formulate a reason as towhyI was sleeping on top of him and, more importantly,whyI almost kissed him without warning. “About that…” I trailed off but was saved by the bell when Abel’s phone started ringing over by the coffee machine.
He wiggled out of the nook and walked over to grab his phone.
And I shoved whatever conversation he thought we were about to have under the rug for another day—or never—by sneaking up the stairs to take a shower.
* * *
“I’ll be backin a few hours. You sure you don’t want to come?” Abel questioned as he stood in the doorway of my room.
He told me earlier that he needed to leave for a few hours to finish up his commercial for his brand partner. He’d asked me to go with him and meet everyone he’d been working with the last few weeks, but I politely declined.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go with him. Hell, I flew halfway across the country to see him, of course I wanted to spend time with him, but what I couldn’t do was pretend we were in a fake relationship anymore.
Especially in front ofdozensof strangers.
Every touch. Every hug. Every almost kiss.
I couldn’t take it.
What was the worst that could happen if I told him how I really felt? He’d say he wasn’t interested and we’d have to endure an awkward car ride to the airport tomorrow? I could handle that.
In the meantime, I planned to sit on the couch and watch reruns of cake decorating shows on the Cooking Channel.
But… that didn’t last long.
Left up to my own devices, I realized that I had anawful lotof free time to wander around the house. It was a gorgeous two-story home with massive floor-to-ceiling windows that looked right onto a private beach.
Unlike Mae and Abel’s magazineworthy interior-designed mansions, every piece of furniture or decor in this house appeared to be handpicked. No two things matched perfectly, yet at the same time, everything flowed together in a way that was cohesive enough to make it seem like it was done by a professional.
Making my way up the stairs, I peeked into the other two guest rooms that weren’t being occupied before stumbling upon an office at the farthest end of the hall that was tucked away from all the other rooms.
Curiosity got the best of me, and I poked my head through the half-opened doorway to find a gorgeous mahogany desk. The walls had giant vision boards leaned against them that were covered with sketches of dresses with fabric scraps pinned onto them.
Oh my god.
This washerhouse. Abel’s doorstep mystery woman.
Not only wasAbelstaying in her house,wewere staying in her house together.
Okay, obviously she wasn’t here with him. That was a good sign, right?
Well, at least she hadn’t been since I’d arrived.
