The Undercover Cowboy by Lori Wilde

Author:Lori Wilde
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-09-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Driven by thirst, Allie padded through Rick’s living room wearing nothing but his western shirt that hit at her knees. It was easier than putting on her button-up-the-back dress and besides, his smell was on the shirt and she liked it. She inhaled, grinned at the sunlight seeping in through the window blinds.

The kitchen was laid out much like her own. Small galley kitchen with top-of-the-line upgrades. Quartz countertops. White cabinets. Stainless steel appliances. Marble floor. The old apartment building had undergone major renovations with the recent gentrification of the Twilight historical district. The makeover had shot rent prices through the roof, which was why she was working two jobs until she could find a new roomie.

How did Rick afford his apartment without a roommate?

It occurred to her how little she knew about him. What did he do when he wasn’t a diorama actor? Maybe he was a trust-fund baby and didn’t really have to work.

The urge to snoop through his things slipped over her, but she fought against it. No. She wasn’t going to violate his privacy. Some people might consider her foolish, but she trusted him. Especially after last night.

Smiling at the memory and the sweet soreness in her body, she fingered her puffy lips, dry and swollen from the force and quantity of his kisses.

Water. Yes, that was what she was after.

The kitchen was different from hers in color and content. Hers was Tuscan yellow with elaborate murals she’d painted on the walls, and it was pretty well devoid of cooking supplies. She was a takeout kind of girl. Her kitchen mostly housed her art supplies. Her previous roommate, a flight attendant, had been cool with that. The next roommate might not be so forgiving of modeling clay in the cookie jar and charcoal pencils in the pantry. She’d have to rethink the logistics of where she stored her art supplies if that happened.

Rick’s walls were a trendy gray. The entire kitchen was black, white, and shades of gray. The pops of color came from food. Avocados in a crystal bowl. Bananas in a hammock. Oranges, lemons, limes, grapefruits in a big wicker basket. Lush red tomatoes on the counter.

Was he a foodie?

She opened the refrigerator and peeked in—a girl could only contain her curiosity for so long. Clean, well-organized. Grass-fed butter in the dairy drawer. Artisan cheeses. Full-fat cream. A crisper full of kale, spinach, lettuce, broccoli, carrots, and cabbage.

A foodie and healthy to boot.

But of course. A man didn’t get a body like that by eating junk food.

She spied a pitcher of filtered water and took it out of the fridge. Found a glass in the cabinet, poured up the cold, clear water, and sucked down the whole glass in three thirsty gulps.

Then her eyes fell on the espresso maker. Coffee. Mmm.

It took her a few minutes to figure out the complicated machine, but she finally coaxed a cappuccino out of it. Took a sip.

Holy cowboy! That was one great cup of coffee.

Heavenly. Wrapping

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