This arrangement is such a bad idea. I agonize over the right thing to do. If thanking her and swatting her ass weren’t on the forefront of my brain, I might be able to say something.
“Hey there,” Carson’s voice eliminates any chance I had of reeling myself in and clarifying that our relationship is strictly business despite my ability to control myself.
I grumble a greeting in return.
“Good morning,” Zoe says and returns to the counter. “Have a seat. I’ll bring your plate.”
“I’ll say. Best morning I’ve had in a long time.” Carson’s tone hints at more than a good night’s sleep or appreciation of having breakfast made. I’ll chalk it up to the obvious…her damn shorts that give the slightest glimpse of the curve of her ass cheek. The perfect place for tucking a hand to pull her close.
“I’m glad you slept good,” she says.
“Actually, I didn’t sleep that great. Woke up a bunch…”
Why does Carson let his words trail off instead of explaining why waking up would lead to the best morning he’s had in a long time? I hadn’t noted sarcasm.
The glass bottle of maple syrup falls from Zoe’s hand, clattering against the plate.
“Oh no. I’m sorry. That’s probably too much syrup.” She scrambles to clean up.
Carson crosses the kitchen, stopping extremely close beside Zoe.
Distance buddy. Remember our agreement.Or is it too late, did he already cross a line? Is that the tension I’m sensing? No, he’s way too chill for anything to have happened.
“I can handle it. Won’t be too sweet for me.” He reaches around her.
I slump with a sigh and an eye roll at his cheesy line. Perhaps he needs a reminder that she’s only twenty-one. She’d be in college if she hadn’t dropped out. We haven’t considered college girls as dating prospects in a few years. She’s our employee. So many reasons to be careful.
He carries both of their plates to the table. The dynamic of our house has completely changed. Is it just that she’s a woman? That I’m attracted to her? That I can’t have her?
“Have trouble sleeping last night?” Carson asks Zoe. There’s more to his question.
Zoe studies her pancakes as she cuts them. “I might have woken up a few times. Probably just getting used to a new environment. The room is great, the bed was super comfortable.”
“As long as you were comfortable. I thought I heard you at one point.”
Zoe freezes.
What the hell is going on?
She stammers. “Um…yeah…sorry if I woke you up.”
“I wouldn’t mind if you did… If you need help with something, getting comfortable, or whatever.”
“Thanks.”
“Just knock on my door. Call my name. You may be taking care of us, but we’re not opposed to taking care of you too.”
Shit. That’s a suggestive way to term our arrangement, but the vibe they’re giving off tells me they’re talking about something else.
We manage to get through breakfast without either of them revealing what happened. I won’t embarrass Zoe by asking in front of her.
When she finishes her food and leaves the room to start a load of laundry, I keep my voice down. “What the hell was that all about?”
Carson grins, and I curse that valuable time is being lost with his evasiveness.
I lean closer. “You better not have done anything.”
“She got herself off in the middle of the night.”