Mr. Perfectly Wrong (Alphalicious Billionaires Boss Book 5) by Lindsey Hart

Author:Lindsey Hart [Hart, Lindsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Passion House Publishing
Published: 2021-02-05T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

Stephanie

After our little talk the day before, it was clear we needed to spend some time alone. I cleaned up our stuff, moved the food from the cooler into the fridge, located my book, and retreated to the bedroom. It was super early, but after a couple of hours of reading, I felt my eyes getting heavy and gritty. I hadn’t heard Adam stir, and I left him alone, deciding he needed the sleep. Plus, I just didn’t know what to say. So, sleep was best. A good night’s sleep fixes everything, or so my mom always told me growing up.

Maybe it’s true because when I open my eyes, watery sunlight is flooding in through the lightweight white curtains at the large bedroom window off to the right of the bed, and the smell of bacon and eggs is filling up the small space. Or maybe just bacon because I can’t quite smell the eggs. Coffee. When I sniff again, trying to be discerning, I realize I do smell coffee, good coffee—the kinds made from an actual coffee pot.

I throw back the lightweight quilt and roll out of bed. I did put on my pajamas yesterday—the one dry pair I found. They’re just shorts and a t-shirt—gym shorts and a baggy old thing with a picture of a cow that I found at a thrift store and liked because I thought it was slightly odd and kind of cute. The cow is purple and green, and I just had to buy it. It’s seen five or so years of use, and it’s held up pretty darn near perfectly, making it worth every cent of the four dollars and ninety-nine cents I paid for it.

I’m a little embarrassed about being seen in pajamas because I feel it’s kind of intimate, and that’s not what I wanted to go for after our talk yesterday, so I put on a pair of black, distressed denim shorts and a black tank before I wander out into the living room.

Adam’s in the kitchen. He is indeed the source of the delicious smells. For a guy who claims he can’t cook, he’s sure doing a good enough job with what he has at the moment. A frying pan is filled up with thick-cut bacon, and the other has scrambled eggs. The coffee pot is full, and it smells as dark and divine as it probably tastes.

Adam turns around after flipping the eggs to find me standing there. “Hey,” he says brightly.

He looks much more chipper this morning. As he said it would, his sunburn has turned into a really dark tan. His hair is still wet from the shower he must have taken not more than twenty or thirty minutes ago, and he’s sporting a plaid button-down and another pair of jeans. I have never, ever, seen him wear plaid.

He looks freaking fantastic in plaid.

God, he looks fantastic in everything.

I shouldn’t be noticing. Yesterday was a clear declaration of what will never happen again. I

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