Page 82 of RomeAntically Challenged
But she wasn’t standing. Oh no, Annie was sitting on the island, bringing that hem to barely legal levels, while going after a gallon of ice cream with the scooper—as if she’d decided mid-snacking that it was an out-of-the-tub kind of occasion.
Her normally silky straight hair was sticking up everywhere, making him think she’d crawled into bed without bothering to dry it off. But what had his heart rolling over was that her eyes were soft and half-lidded, as if she’d sleepwalked her way through the first half of the carton.
Then there were her bottoms—or serious lack thereof. Because peeking out from beneath that shirt was nothing but golden skin and teal-colored lace. Teal lace cheeky-cut undies, to be exact. Which had his bottom parts RSVPing for a pillow fight party of two.
“If I wear a bell, what will you be wearing?” he asked
“How’s your head?”
“Rebelling against being upright, but at least I don’t feel like puking anymore.”
“Life goals,” she said around a mouthful of ice cream. “You want some tea? Caffeine might help.”
“More of a coffee guy, and already downed the pot left over from this morning.” Which might be part of this whole sleep issue.
“Ice cream is always an option.” She gestured to the abandoned spoon on the counter, which felt more like an olive branch. “It’s just regular vanilla, but there’s fudge and peanuts in the pantry if you need something a little more decadent.”
“Decadence is overrated.” Closing the fridge, he picked up the spoon and slowly made his way toward her, stopping only when he was pressed against her knees. “Vanilla happens to be my favorite.”
“And if it were chocolate, what would you have said?” She held the container hostage, like Gollum with the Ring.
“That vanilla is my favorite, but I’m an equal opportunity connoisseur when it comes to sharing ice cream with a beautiful woman.”
She rolled her eyes but released her death grip on the container.
His gaze never leaving hers, he made a big to-do about dipping his spoon in and taking the biggest helping possible. The ice cream was half-melted but he made do.
“Is this the reason you’re awake at three a.m.? An ice-cream craving?” he asked.
“Ice cream is best eaten at three a.m. But no.” She worried her lip. “I had a hard time sleeping. Every time I closed my eyes, my brain would start processing everything you have going on right now. And all the stress you’re under, all the new demands on you, and, well, if you want me to move out, I can call Beckett. She said I can crash on her couch until I find a place.”
He’d been operating under the assumption that she’d been awake because she was mad at him. That the things he’d said had ruined any chance he had at repairing thisthinggrowing between them.
She was still searching for solid ground after her world had fallen apart, and yet she was more concerned about his recovery than her own. Was even willing to uproot herself again and sleep on a couch if it made his life a little easier.
Annie was the only easy thing in his life, and he knew he’d have to work damn hard to make up for tonight. Even harder, if he wanted to stand a chance of keeping her. And he wanted. Good thing hard work had never scared Emmitt. Losing Annie? Now, that scared the shit out of him.
Emmitt had met a lot of women in his life, but he’d never known one as compassionate and selfless as Annie. He didn’t think he’d ever meet another quite like her.
“Do you want to move out?” he asked.
Her response was to shove a scooper full of ice cream into her mouth and shrug. Most people would take that as indifference, but Emmitt knew better. Annie was preparing herself for another blow.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he began. “I was a complete dick earlier and there isn’t enough pepperoni pizza in the world to make up for the things I said.”
“You had a rough night and you were in a lot of pain. You still are.”
“I’m still a dick? Or I’m still in pain?”
“Both,” she said with a teasing smile. “But I know you’re going to need time and privacy to work things out with Paisley, and I don’t want to be in the way, which is why I’m offering to move.”
He stuck the spoon in the ice cream and left it, freeing up his hands. Leaning forward, he rested his palms on the counter, bringing his eyes level with hers and his thigh flush with her bare legs. Her very sexy, very silky, very tempting bare legs.
“I’m really sorry about what I said. But I don’t want you to move out.”
“You don’t?” she breathed.
“No. I don’t. I like the arrangement. I like you being here. In fact, I like you.” He parted her knees slightly, and she did the rest, relaxing so he could slip between them. Which he did. “A lot.” But instead of going in for the kiss—which based on the way she was scoping out his mouth, he totally could have—he went for comfort and support, which was what he should have done earlier. “You want to tell me why you were crying earlier?”
