Page 4 of Billionaire Bachelor
The expressionon Pip’s face is priceless. Her chocolate brown eyes widen in surprise as her pouty lips form into an O.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” I tease.
I bite back a groan when that tongue peeks out and wets her lips. Damn, she has no idea what that does to me.
“How long are you staying?” she asks, carefully ignoring my loaded question.
“Trying to get rid of me already?” Just for the hell of it, I wink.
I’ll be the first to admit I’m a flirty guy. You’d think Rosie would be used to it by now, but it never fails to make her cheeks flush. One of my favorite things about her, if I’m honest.
“No.” Pip coughs out a nervous laugh. “I’m just curious if you’re going to be here the whole weekend.”
“That’s the plan,” I reply. “Why? Do you have a hot date coming?”
My fists clench as I think about some random dude showing up here. There’d only be one reason he’d do that, and it doesn’t sit well with me, irrational as that may be.
“No.” She frowns. “Doyou?”
And just like that, the tension in my shoulders melts away.
“Nope.” I grin. “Looks like it’s just the two of us.”
Rosie swallows as her eyes shift toward the hallway. “Well, since there’s only one bed, and you’ve been using it all week, I guess I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Oh, hell no.
“Not going to happen, Pip.I’llsleep on the couch.”
She rolls her eyes again. “Don’t be ridiculous, Logan. You’re, like, a foot taller than me, and your legs would hang off the edge.”
“So?” I challenge. “Do you really think that matters to me?”
“Well, it matters tome,” Rosie huffs, propping a hand on her hip. “I know you’re trying to be chivalrous or whatever because that’s how you roll, but you can’t deny it makes a lot more sense for the shorter person to take the couch.”
“As obstinate as ever,” I mutter. “Look. How about we table this argument for now? We have the whole day ahead of us. We can figure out our sleeping arrangements when it’s actually time for bed.”
Great, now I’m imagining Rosie in bed. Or mewithRosie in bed. I will my dick to drop that line of thinking, but it’s much easier said than done.
“Fine.”
The air feels thick with tension, like a rubber band on the verge of snapping.
I walk into the kitchen and grab a bottle of prosecco out of the wine fridge, hoping to lighten the mood.“You want a drink?”
“It’s eleven in the morning,” she points out.
I open the main fridge and grab some orange juice. “Mimosa, then?”
Her laughter echoes softly around the cabin, chasing away some of the heaviness between us. “I mean, I am technically on vacation, so why the hell not?”
“That’s my girl.” I wink again just to see her cheeks pinken some more. “Have you eaten yet? I don’t have much to offer, but if you’re hungry, I can do eggs and toast.”
She crosses the room and takes a seat at the kitchen island. “Eggs and toast would be great.”
“Consider it done.”
As I crack eggs into the sizzling skillet, I let my gaze linger on her face. The cabin feels smaller with Rosie here, though not in a bad way. There’s an undercurrent of awareness in the air, I think. It’s subtle, but impossible to ignore.
