The Naughty List Bundle - Kylie Adams [88]
As he hurriedly measured the coffee, being careful to be quiet so he wouldn’t wake anyone else, he thought about Misty and how she would look so early in the day, her dark hair still tousled, her eyes soft and warm. He imagined her still in her nightgown, something thin and slinky, and he almost dropped the carafe of water. The anticipation he felt was ridiculous, but real.
For at least a few hours this morning, he’d have her all to himself.
Jordan had an apartment above the garage and would be oblivious to anything and everything until at least ten o’clock. He liked to sleep late on the weekends, his only chance to catch up from his busy week.
Gabe might not even be back yet. He’d been surrounded by the single women of Buckhorn when last Morgan had seen him. But if he was home, his rooms in the basement would insulate him from the normal busy-house noises.
As for Sawyer, he was no doubt occupied with his bride. Morgan wouldn’t be at all surprised if he didn’t leave the bedroom all day. He grinned at that thought, remembering how Casey had told his father to feel free to linger, that he’d take care of all the chores for him.
Morgan was still grinning and feeling a little too anxious when he silently stepped outside with two steaming mugs of coffee. His bare feet didn’t make a sound on the wet morning grass as he walked to the swing. It was a bit chilly, a heavy fog hanging over everything, which turned his first sight of Misty, her back to him, curled up on the swing, into a whimsical, almost ethereal picture. He was only two steps away from her when he heard her give a delicate sniff.
Everything masculine in him froze, and he experienced that incomparable dread men suffered when women turned to tears. He didn’t know what to do. He strained to hear, hoping he’d misunderstood the sound, hoping she had a cold.
She sniffed again, then dabbed at her eyes with a wadded tissue. Oh, hell. Morgan felt a hard, curling ache around his heart and closed his eyes for a moment. The fact that her tears bothered him so much was a sure sign that things were out of control. Just physical attraction, he insisted to himself, despite his burgeoning sympathy and concern. Shoring up his nerve, he announced himself by clearing his throat.
Turning around so quickly she nearly upset the swing, Misty stared at him. She had glasses on, which he’d never seen before, and her hair was tied back with a plain elastic rubber band, long tendrils carelessly escaping. Even in the gray predawn light, he could see that she blushed.
Truth was, she looked like hell, and he hadn’t thought such a thing was possible. Her nose was red and her eyes were hidden behind the reflection of the glasses. His simmering lust died a rapid death, not because of how she looked, but because he knew she was upset, and he was horribly afraid that he was the reason.
Not knowing what else to do, he held out one cup of coffee, for the moment ignoring her distress. “I heard the swing and figured you could use this.”
She glanced at the cup as if it might hold arsenic. Morgan sighed. “It’s coffee. Lots of sugar and cream. I figured since Honey drank hers that way, you likely did, too.”
She took the cup, sipped, then quietly thanked him. Without another word, she turned her head to stare toward the lake, which could barely be seen through the fog. She had simply and plainly dismissed him. Her wishes couldn’t have been any more clear than if she’d come right out and said, Go away.
Nettled, Morgan pretended not to notice.
He moved to sit beside her, never mind that there wasn’t really enough room. She quickly scrambled to get her legs out of the way, and it was then he noticed she was wearing a soft old cotton housecoat. No belt, just fat buttons all the way down the front. It looked loose and comfortable, like something that his sixty-year-old mother would