Chuckling at her impatience, I delete my text again and peck out another one.
Me: Morning sunshine.
Peppermint: Sunshine? Have you even met me?
Me: You’re right, I have.
I hit send but immediately begin typing again.
Me: Morning my little ray of pitch black.
Me: There, is that better?
Peppermint: Little bit, yeah.
Me: How are you feeling today?
Peppermint: I’ll be there in ten minutes. There better be coffee.
Me: What? You’re coming here?
I stare at the screen waiting for a response. A full minute passes with nothing.
Me: Hello? Answer me.
Still nothing.
Me: Did I understand you right? You’re coming to my place?
When I don’t get a response after another two minutes—I fucking counted—I toss my phone onto the mattress and race to the bathroom. I’ve never been so grateful that I sleep naked because I’d surely fall and break something if I had to strip while I’m rushing.
I take the quickest shower of my life, and as I brush my teeth, the distinct rumble of a motorcycle snags my attention.
Shit.
After spitting the toothpaste into the sink, I rinse the bowl and dry my mouth on the towel. I snag a pair of black sweats from my dresser but don’t bother with anything else as I listen for her to knock on the door.
I grab my cell phone to check the time. It’s been exactly ten minutes since her last text. I don’t know if I’m more impressed with her ability to be right on time or the speed with which I got ready.
By the time I reach the living room, I still haven’t heard her knock, so I open the door thinking she’s just taking her sweet time. There’s no one on the porch. I lean around the door frame to peer at the driveway. Her Harley is backed up to the garage door, but Peppermint is nowhere to be seen.
“You’re not very observant.”
I whirl around and see Peppermint standing next to my leather sectional, her head tilted to the side like she’s trying to figure me out.
“What are…” I glance at the door and then back to her. “How’d you…” I shut the door and flip the deadbolt before facing her fully. “Did you break into my house?”
“I don’t know what you paid for your security system, but it’s garbage.”
I turn to look at the keypad by the door, tapping the screen several times to determine why the alarm didn’t sound the minute she opened the door. When I realize what happened, I hang my head.
“You forgot to set it, didn’t you?” she asks as she steps up next to me.
I take a deep breath and nod. “Apparently.”
It’s quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room our combined breathing. Heat radiates off her, and I have to make a conscious effort not to lean into the warmth.
“Can you go put a shirt on?” she asks softly and turns to face me. “This…” Peppermint waves her hand up and down to indicate my torso. “It’s distracting.”