We have more important things to worry about right now. This is silly and rash and the last thing we need to add to our plates. I could be reading him wrong, and really he’s just waiting for me to get my naked ass off him.
“We should, uh…” I start, shattering the weighted silence. I’m not sure if I’m putting a stop to things or offering one last opening and waiting to see if he’ll seize it.
“Right,” Rogan agrees, snapping out of his transfixed state.
I push up from him, and his hands at my waist help lift me as I go. It’s not until I stand up that I realize what a bad idea this was. Because now my crotch is staring him right in his face. He clears his throat softly, and I scramble away from him. I hurry to pluck my towel from the ground and wrap it around me. I hope like hell it serves as a tourniquet and stops the embarrassment bleeding out of me all over the place.
I probably look like some desperate thot who just keeps throwing myself at him. My face is on fire with mortification. Rogan gets to his feet, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. I don’t want to see what might be written all over his face. Or worse, look and see that he doesn’t give a shit at all.
“I’ll, uh...I’ll be in the kitchen...when you’re ready,” he declares, and then just like that, he’s gone. It’s like he couldn’t get out of here fast enough. I plop onto the edge of the bed and let my face fall into my hands.
What am I doing?
I look up to find Hoot and Gibson are gone. Seems like the show is over, or maybe all of this was too much for them, not that I can blame them. It’s too much for me too…or maybe the issue is that it’s not enough? I growl into my hands in exasperation and get up to get dressed.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid, Leni. What are you thinking? You want to fuck him, but you don’t trust him. You want to get lost in the feel of him, but at what cost?” I ask myself as I step into my underwear and wiggle into a pair of jeans.
How can I so easily forgive what’s happened between us, what brought me here in the first place? Gibson is his ex-familiar because he made me his against my will. He tethered us together with no thought as to how I would feel about it. He can claim it’s all for the greater good, and maybe it was, but it doesn’t make it right. It doesn’t excuse the violation. And now, I what...think we’re somehow going to find happily ever after in missing witches, Order attacks, secrecy, and lies?
I shake my head as I hook my bra together behind my back. No. It doesn’t matter that sex with him would probably be epic. It’s a distraction that we don’t have time for. I pull a shirt on, fluffing my disgruntled curls as I search for my shoes. Nope. Just going to pretend like this never happened. So he saw me naked, who cares? I love what I’m working with, so no shame there. Yes, he took a bush to the face. It’s unfortunate, but there’s no getting around it now. I’m sure we can both behave like civilized adults and just never talk about it again.
Yep. Solid plan.
My stomach growls, and I know there’s no avoiding the kitchen. Crap. Please don’t let me turn beet red as soon as I see him, I plead with myself, pulling on my big girl panties and heading down to the kitchen. I take the stairs a little louder than usual, announcing to Rogan that I’m coming and it’s time to prepare for his role in Operation Avoidance.
“Hey,” I offer casually as I pass the kitchen island, making a beeline for the fancy coffee machine. Dammit. I still don’t know how to make it submit.
“Hey,” he offers back, taking the large mug from my hand without missing a beat and getting to work making me a delicious cup of decadent brew.
I give him room to sweet talk the machine and grab a seat at the island. I look around the kitchen to try and figure out what time it is, but there isn’t a clock anywhere. Note to self, get Rogan a clock.
“How long was I out?” I ask, taking in his jeans and T-shirt. It’s definitely the middle of the night, but he’s dressed and ready to go, which is a little odd.
“It’s just past four in the morning,” he tells me as the coffee machine starts gurgling and making noises that tell me a hot cup of joe is not too far away.
“Oh, I feel like I’ve been asleep forever, but I’ll take a handful of hours,” I note with a shrug.
“No, it’s four in the morning on Wednesday. You’ve been asleep for more than a day,” he reveals casually as he opens the fridge and pulls out those fancy syrups and things that I used to think people could only get at a legit coffee shop. I wonder if Riggs is his supplier. I’ll have to get in on that if he is.
“Wait. What?” I squeak out in surprise as what he says registers. How did I crash for that long? “What about the meeting with the coven? Did Marx come tell us what the hell is going on? Did I miss anything else?” I fire at him, not even stopping to reload the air in my lungs as worry sends my pulse galloping.
Rogan hands me a large cup filled with liquid salvation, but I’m too shocked and worried to dunk my face in it like I normally would.
“I rescheduled the meeting with the coven for this afternoon. Marx hasn’t come by yet; he got tied up with the attack, and it took longer to square up than he thought. I got a message from him just before you naked tackled me. He said he’d drop by in a couple of hours to fill us in on what’s happening.”
I narrow my eyes at him—mentioning the thing we’re not supposed to be mentioning is not part of the plan. Then again, maybe if I clued Rogan in to the plan, he might follow it better. But that means I’d have to bring up the thing that I don’t want to bring up, so I’ll just shoot him a warning glare and hope he picks up what I’m putting down.
“The only other thing you missed was this…” Rogan continues as though my warning shot fell on deaf ears. He walks out of the kitchen, and I debate for a moment if I was supposed to follow him. Before I can make up my mind one way or the other, he comes back with a massive white box. He sets it on the island next to me and hands me an envelope. I open it, pulling out a card that has a neat but masculine scrawl on it.
Lennox,
When we heard what happened, Alpha Riggs insisted on sending you this. I, of course, then insisted on playing delivery boy. When you’re well and rested, call me. I’d like to take you to dinner sometime, maybe even find a stump and see where the night takes us.
Saxon.
He drew a winky face just before his number and a heart just before his name. I trace the angle of Saxon’s handwriting as I read the note again, and a small smile works to claim my mouth. I set the note and envelope down and reach for the lid of the huge box. Sadly, it’s too big to be a jackalope antler, but who knows, maybe this is one of those present inside a present tricks that are fun to do to people, but annoying when you’re the one opening fifty boxes just to find a lame-ass cuddle coupon. Rogan plucks the note from the counter, reading it and grunting with annoyance before tossing it aside. I pull the top off and find a stack of various bones. I study them for a quick second and realize it’s a duplicate of the bone order that I lost in the accident.
My smile grows even wider. Looks like I’ve got some spelling to do.
“Told you that you’d have a problem on your hands with that one,” Rogan grumbles, jutting his chin in the direction of the tossed aside note.