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“Already done. Said he figured you’d be bringing her and wouldn’t be open to a slumber party. Hollywood offered to pack the face masks and bath bombs that chick sent him when she dumped him, but still guessed you’d pass.”
“Considering I just spent a whack on all that shit and O refuses to even open it, think she’s fully stocked.”
He laughed. “So the night went well.”
“She went for my piece when she thought I was asleep, and I’m not talkin’ about the one between my legs.”
Most people would be worried about that, but my brother only laughed harder. “That bad?”
“That good.”
“You’re fucked in the head.”
I didn’t argue ‘cause he was right.
Popping another round of waffles into the toaster, I grabbed plates and forks. “Anything else I need to know about?”
“Business as usual.”
“Good. Be in touch if things go to hell, otherwise fuck off.”
“Got it.”
Hanging up, I started coffee before plating the food, snagging the syrup and butter, and heading into the family room, my mind on how I wanted to wake O. I didn’t get to use any of my ideas—yet—because when I pushed open the door, she was already at the table, sitting in the same spot she’d been in at dinner.
“You’re up.”
“Got hungry,” she said, her eyes on the plates in my hand.
“Want coffee?”
“Want me to function?”
“Take that as a yes.” I set everything down and returned to the kitchen to pour a mug of coffee for me and the biggest cup we had for her. I tried like hell not to burn myself as I carried them, the milk, and some sugar back out. “I don’t have any flavored creamer ‘cause Swedes says it’s an insult to coffee.”
Ophelia poured a shit-ton of milk in before adding sugar. “I’d drink instant coffee black right now, so I’m good with whatever.”
My dick, that’d gone down, instantly hardened as Ophelia’s full lips blew on the steaming drink. It became painfully hard when she took a sip and closed her eyes, pleasure filling her expression.
One day, it’ll be me who gets her to make that face.
“This is the best coffee I’ve ever had, and I’m not just saying that because I’m desperate. What blend is it?”
I shrugged. “Swedes stocks it. He’s all about trying organic, fair trade, whatever. You’ll have to ask him.”
She glanced down the table. “Will everyone be here later?”
“We don’t have anything planned. The family room is open to everyone twenty-four-seven, but they’re probably steering clear.”
“Because of me.”
“No one wants to get in the path of a pissed-off woman.”
I expected her to shoot back something about her anger being warranted, but she just smirked and said, “Smart of them.”
Fuckin’ hell.
Going to town spreading butter on her waffle, she glanced at me. “What’s the family room?”
