this hour on a Saturday?”
Luke pushed back his chair and stood. “I sorta told Remington to stop by this morning to say hello. You know...make the plan?”
“What? Without even discussing it with me?” I took a panicky gulp of coffee. It burned my throat.
“We’re discussing it now,” Luke said. “I thought you’d be happy. How was I supposed to know it would turn into a battle?”
“Gah.” Dramatically tossing my hair over my shoulder, I marched into the living room. “Great! Now I’m gonna have to tell this poor little guy thanks but no thanks.”
“Yeah, well, I thought you’d be thankful,” Luke called after me as I headed toward the front door.
I paused just long enough to run my free hand over my rat’s nest hair. I probably still had sleep in my eyes, and I hadn’t brushed my teeth yet that morning, but I took another fortifying swig of coffee as I marched. “Next time maybe check with me before you invite one of your ne’er-do-well friends over at the crack of dawn.”
The doorbell rang again right as I reached for the knob. Perfect. An impatient ne’er-do-well. Poor little Jeremy was just going to have to find another way to pay for his tattoo machine.
I wrenched open the door, prepared to be polite but firm. There was no way I was inviting this guy in for even so much as a cup of coffee. I would just have to explain to him that Luke should have checked with me first, and—
My mouth fell open. Standing in front of me was six foot two, two hundred pounds of lean, muscled...man. Dark hair peeked out from beneath the brim of a navy blue Remington Woodworking ball cap. Deep green eyes, long eyelashes, firmly molded lips, and the broadest, squarest shoulders I’d seen outside of the pages of a magazine.
Holy Mary, Mother of God.
A helpless, mildly hysterical giggle escaped my traitorous lips. This was poor little Jeremy?
Chapter 5
“Meg?” His voice was deep and a little rough and slightly hypnotic and—
“Uh, yes?” I’d never been more aware of my rumpled bed head, and my big fat unattractive puffy bathrobe, which did nothing to hide my pot belly. If anything, it accentuated it.
“It’s me, Jeremy Remington. I hope I didn’t wake you.” He smiled then, revealing perfect white teeth and tiny dimple near the side of his mouth. Swoon.
“No. No. I was just...drinking coffee.” I lifted my “I’d rather be at Pemberley” mug in the air. Stupid, Meg. Of course you were drinking coffee.
He stood there for a minute, a slight frown replacing his smile. “Can I come in?” he finally asked.
“Of...of course.” Oh, crap. I’d been staring at him when I should have been inviting him in. Every single thought I’d had before I opened the door fled as I moved back and opened it wider to allow Jeremy to enter. “Come in.”
I turned to lead him into the living room, super glad I’d cleaned so thoroughly the night before. I glanced back to notice that he was still standing on my blue flowered welcome mat.
“Should I take off my boots?” he asked.
One glance at his boots and I immediately wanted him to remove them. They looked dusty and speckled with what appeared to be wood chips. But years of being an overly controlling neat freak had taught me that other people tended to think you were a big weirdo when you did things like ask them to take off their shoes when they entered your house. “Oh, I don’t mind—”
“Yes! Take them off,” came Luke’s voice from the kitchen. “She’ll freak if you don’t.”
My free hand went to my hip. “I will not!” I called back before realizing that listening to a fight between siblings rivaled big fat puffy bathrobes for non-sexy things. I turned back to Jeremy to see him already dutifully removing his boots. Now that was sexy, and the fact that he had asked? Double swoon. I shut my mouth and gave him a sheepish, grateful shrug. “Thanks,” I said.
“No problem. My grandma won’t let me wear shoes in her house, either.”
Oh, great. I’m like his grandma. Speaking of non-sexy things...
I turned back to the living room, doing my best to hide my bare hobbit feet under my robe, just as Luke came out of the kitchen to join us.
“Hey, good to see you, Remington.” The two gave each other some sort of bro-handshake/back-slap thing that only heterosexual men do. Well, I’d never seen Harrison do it, but that wasn’t