Page 39 of Sassy Love
Chapter 11
CARLIE
Day one.
The early morning sun pokes through the bungalow window as I stretch out in the California king bed. Those West Coast folks have their shit together—this bed is bliss.
A groan sounds from somewhere on the floor. I tug the sheet up over my silk sleep camisole, only now remembering who I share a room with.
Rawlins.
I shuffle forward on the bed, sheet clutched in my hands, as I peek at the floor. He lies flat out on the hard floor, a forearm covering his eyes, the biceps bulging with its elevated position. The single blanket I tossed at him last night has slipped down, exposing his bare, toned chest and stomach.
Holy shit.
The man is built to perfection.
A raw groan slips through his lips as he stretches where he lies, and his arm falls away.
Fuck.
I scramble backward and lie, shoving my hands under my head as I roll onto my side and slam my eyes shut.
A soft chuckle turns to a strangled moan as the blanket hits the bed. “Sweet Jesus, the damn floor is as hard as it looks. Mornin’, sleepyhead.” Footsteps pad behind the faux wall as he adds, “You can open your eyes now, Lamont.”
My eyes fling open along with my mouth.
I snap my mouth shut, remembering the pajamas I have on, the very open space we share, and the fact that this is only the first day, and night, of seven. More, if we screw this up.
I flip the covers back and rush to where my bag sits against the wall on the rack underneath the flat-screen. I dig through it until I find an oversized T-shirt and pull it on. Better.
Flinging my long hair over one shoulder, I pluck my phone up from the nightstand and send Mills proof of life.
She sends a cowboy emoji back.
I roll my eyes and click my phone off.
The one thing she and I don’t agree on has always been romantic love. Call it the baggage of my trauma, whatever you want, but after the first man I ever loved decided I wasn’t worth the trouble and left Mom and me to fend for ourselves, I haven’t bought into the commercial concept of romantic love.
Because that’s all it is—a way for companies to sell more products and services to unsuspecting big-hearted fools by attaching emotional need or the perception of it.
I’m nobody’s fool. Not anymore.
“Bathroom’s free.” The low tone pulls me from my inner TED Talk.
Dragging my gaze from the lock screen of my phone, I meet deep blues, an angled jaw that could rival Thor’s, and messy damn dark hair.
I force my focus back to my phone. “Yep.”
With only a few minutes ’til five, I opt for just brushing my teeth and washing my face before Manuel graces our doorstep.
I’ll work out and shower after the morning session.
Rawlins is dressed in a T-shirt and shorts that resemble running clothes. As he shoves his AirPods into each ear and taps his phone, I realize he has the same idea as me.
Except I wouldn’t be caught dead running.
Cardio never served me well, only adding to my waistline instead of reducing it. So one of my HIIT workouts will do nicely while he’s out pounding the pavement. Slapping a sports watch on his wrist, he answers the door as I finish getting ready. My navy active wear is my favorite thing right now. And the fact it compliments my long strawberry-toned blonde hair and brown eyes is an added bonus.
