If By Chance (What Will Be Book Series 3) by Laura Ashley Gallagher

Author:Laura Ashley Gallagher [Gallagher, Laura Ashley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gala & Co Publishing
Published: 2022-05-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

I wake before the sun rises, feeling stiff and unrested. I tie my hair back, dressing quickly into my joggers and crop top. I slip my arms into a black hoody before grabbing my headphones and creeping out of my room. Jake’s bedroom door is closed, and I don’t want to wake him. Only because I don’t want to look at the face that invaded my dreams all night.

I’ve had one-night stands before. I’ve never lost sleep because of them.

And considering we did very little sleep together, I’m exhausted.

I climbed into my bed before he woke yesterday morning, and I didn’t see him all day. With Jay-Jay gone, I assume he went into the office. Probably to avoid facing what we did.

I’m not ready yet. I don’t want to look at him and see his regret.

I shake my tired limbs, hoping to erase the obsessive thoughts about him too. I feel like a teenager with her first crush.

Fighting yet another yawn, I tiptoe downstairs and into the kitchen. Head in my phone as I start my running playlist, I grab a glass from the cupboard for water.

“Good morning, Trouble.”

“Sweet SpaghettiOs,” I screech.

The glass tumbles from my hands, bouncing off the counter but not breaking. I scramble to catch it before it rolls to the floor.

Gasping, I spin around, my hand on my chest, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat, but it does little to help. How is this man just as gorgeous in sweats and a t-shirt?

Fucking walking orgasm.

“Don’t scare me like that. I almost died.”

He chuckles, taking the last gulp of whatever disgusting green shake he’s drinking.

“Sweet SpaghettiOs?” he questions, far too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for six in the morning.

“I wanted to say sweet fuck, but one kid at the shelter has a habit of cursing when he gets a fright. The only way I can get him to stop is to tell him to say the silliest thing he can think of. It works for both of us, it would seem.”

“Well damn,” he says, leaning his hip against the counter. His mouth curls up into the warmest smile, and it thaws my icy nerves. “That story is so sweet. I think I’m getting a toothache.”

I want to roll my eyes, but there’s no sarcasm in his tone.

“Call me Mary Poppins.”

“Have you always worked with kids?”

He’s in a chatty mood.

I blow out a breath, my brain still laying cozy in bed. It’s not good to talk to me before I have my morning coffee.

But I said our night wouldn’t change things.

This is normal.

I think.

“My first job out of college was in a women’s shelter, but the jobs led me toward children. I wanted to move when my friends did. Too young and too scared to stay in the city on my own, I packed up and moved to Penrith. I was lucky. I got a job right away as a caseworker with foster children, and I got stuck. Comfortable.”

He runs his fingers through his hair as he hums, shifting his weight from one foot to another, thinking.

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