“I have a headache.” She breathes out a puff off air that hits my chest.

“I’ll get you some aspirin and some food in a minute, but only after you tell me that you understand what I just said.”

“I understand,” she wheezes out as her nails dig into my arm.

“Good.” I give her a squeeze, dip my face, and brush my mouth across hers before rolling out of bed and heading to the bathroom.

Walking back into the room, I’m not surprised to see that Ellie is no longer in my bed. I’m sure she’s down the hall freaking out about what happened this morning. Instead of giving her time to think too much, I go to her door and knock twice. It only takes a moment for her to open the door, and when she does, her eyes meet mine then drop to my mouth before moving to my throat, when she mutters, “I think I’m just going to get back into bed.”

“You’re going to take these,” I say, handing her two Advil, “and then we’re going to have breakfast. After that, we’ll go pick up Hope from my parents, so get dressed. We’ll head out in fifteen.”

“I… We’re not going to eat here?” she asks, tugging at the bottom of my shirt.

“Best hangover food you’ll ever have is extra greasy and from a place called Jones’ on Main.”

“My diet—”

“Babe.” I shake my head, cutting her off before she can say more, while roaming my eyes over her. I have no idea where this diet shit is coming from, but no way in hell does she need to lose weight. She’s perfect. “You do not need to diet.” When my eyes travel up to her face, her cheeks have a pink hue that wasn’t there before and her eyes have gone soft in a way that makes it really fucking hard not to lean in and kiss her. Clearing my throat, I turn on my heels and growl over my shoulder, “Get dressed and meet me downstairs.” Before I do something like push you back to the bed and show you with my mouth how beautiful I think you are.

Hearing her mutter, “Annoying,” as her door closes, I smile and head to the kitchen, picking up her coat and shirt from the floor before sending a quick text to my mom, telling her we’ll be there to pick up Hope in an hour or so. Then I send a text to Sage, asking how his meeting went this morning with our client. My cousin hates being the one to give bad news, and the news he was delivering this morning was definitely that. The man’s wife was having an affair with her co-worker. Obviously, since he hired us to check into her, he had his suspicions, but thinking it may be happening and seeing proof are two completely different things.

Getting a response from my mom almost immediately makes me smile, because all it is, is a sad face. Sage’s response takes longer, but his message lets me know he had to talk the guy down from going over to his wife’s co-worker’s house and going postal after he saw the photo evidence. I can’t imagine what the guy is feeling. He and his wife have two kids, both under the age of five, at home, and he now has to think about what to do regarding his marriage.

Typing a quick response, I let him know to check in with me once he is done filing the paperwork and closing out the case, then tell him I will be out with Ellie having breakfast. To that, he responds almost immediately with, Is she talking to you again? to which I responded, Fuck off. My cousins and Evan had been giving me shit all week about Ellie’s silent treatment, most of them staying out of my way, because they knew I was likely to blow at any minute.

I know she’s downstairs before I see or hear her when her smell wraps around my lungs. I’ve been with women who wear perfume like a coat of armor that’s overpowering and covers up their natural scent, but not Ellie. Her scent of vanilla and cherries is so subtle that I crave getting closer to her, wanting to pinpoint where the scent is located on her body, so I can breathe more of it in.

“Ready,” she says, walking into the kitchen then frowns, going over to the counter where I sat her coat and shirt. “How did this get here?” she asks, holding up her shirt.

“You took it off last night when you came home,” I say with a shrug, not wanting her to be embarrassed, but not wanting to lie either.

“I took it off down here, wi…with you here?” she whispers in horror, balling the shirt up in her hand.

Moving toward her, I take the shirt from her, laying it on the counter while placing my fingers under her jaw and tilting her head up until her eyes meet mine.

“I didn’t see anything more than what I would see if we went to a pool and you wore a bikini.”

“I don’t wear bikinis.” She closes her eyes. “I don’t even know how to swim.”

“We’ll add learning to swim to the list of things I’ll teach you,” I declare quietly.

“This is so embarrassing,” she murmurs with her eyes still shut, moving her head back and forth and causing her hair to slide over my hand.

“Would you feel better if I took off my shirt?” I ask, pulling on her chin so she opens her eyes.

“I’ve seen you without your shirt,” she mutters as her cheeks turn pink.

“Well then, we’re even.” I smile. “Now, are you ready to go have breakfast?”

Pulling in a lungful of air, she lets it out slowly then nods.

“Good.” Smiling, I lean in before she can stop me, placing a soft kiss on her mouth. I move away without acknowledging her quick intake of breath or the way her eyes go half-mast, even though I really want to do it again to see if I can get the same reaction.