Page 57 of Stay Wild Darlin’

My boss slept with me last night . . . but like in the same bed. Nothing happened. Does this mean I should make him breakfast too? Or is that like . . . crossing some invisible line?

I hit Post before I could second-guess myself and stared at the screen, waiting.

But I didn’t have to wait long.

The responses came in fast—some funny, some way too real.

@Chaosmom: Girl, if he got in your bed, he can make his own damn breakfast. You’re the nanny, not his wife.

@Boundaries4days: Shared space is tricky, but emotional safety matters. Ask yourself: would making breakfast make you feel good . . . or obligated? That’s your answer.

@Spicyspicebaby: Sis . . . if he looked good asleep, and smells good out the shower, then yeah, make him breakfast . . . then climb on his lap and make dessert.

I snorted at that one and quickly locked my phone.

Cora squealed on the floor, rolling into a stuffed giraffe, oblivious to my internal battle.

I shook my head. “We are not taking Spicyspicebaby’s advice today.”

Probably.

“Whose advice are we not taking?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin as Fable walked through the front door like she lived here. My hand flew to my chest, and I nearly chucked my phone across the room.

“You scared the hell out of me,” I said, wide-eyed.

She laughed and kicked the door shut behind her once Beau trailed in right after, a bag slung over his shoulder.

“What are you guys doing here?” I walked over to pull her into a hug.

“Dalton texted us,” she said, squeezing me back.

“There she is,” Beau said softly, cradling Cora against his chest. “It’s good to see you alive and well, little girl. You gave everyone a scare.”

Cora cooed and kicked her feet. She knew exactly what kind of chaos she’d caused.

Dalton walked out of his room, hair still damp and curling slightly at the ends, a black T-shirt clinging to his chest, jeans low on his hips, boots already on.

“Hey, guys. Right on time.”

“On time?” I turned to face him, but the moment our eyes met, something in my chest tensed.

I quickly looked away, at anything but him, pretending to fix something on the counter.

It was awkward.

Of course it was awkward.

We hadn’t talked about the fact that we’d fallen asleep in the same bed. That his arm had been around me when I woke up, or how my head had been on his shoulder like we were something more than two exhausted people getting through a scary night.

It was a mistake. A tired, vulnerable moment.

Still . . . it happened, and I had no idea if we were supposed to acknowledge it, joke about it, or pretend it never happened at all.

“I’m headin’ into the city today. Gotta stock up on that fancy formula they gave us at the hospital.” He looked over at Cora in Beau’s arms, then back at me. “Figured since she was in the hospital yesterday, it’d be better if she stayed on her routine. No long car rides. So I thought . . .” He hesitated, eyes meeting mine for a second longer than necessary. “It’d be easier if you came with me, Poppy.”

My brows lifted, unsure if I heard that right.