Taming Hollywood's Baddest Boy - Max Monroe Page 0,71
from the stove to watch her head straight for the coffeepot.
“Are you talking about the food, the coffee, or me?”
“All three.” She flashes me a cheeky little grin. “What are you making?”
“American breakfast staples…” I pause and gesture dramatically toward the skillet with the spatula in my right hand. “Eggs and bacon.”
“Sounds magical.”
Magical. The only magical thing in this kitchen is how goddamn beautiful she looks this morning. Sleepy eyes, fucking pigtails, and dressed in my boxer briefs and T-shirt… This has to be my favorite Billie look.
“Scrambled eggs okay with you?”
“Yep,” she says, eyes already moving toward Bailey. He sits at her feet, his tail wagging back and forth across the kitchen floor. “Good morning, bubby.”
The bastard loves any and all attention Billie gives him, and the mere idea of how he’ll act when she leaves today makes my chest ache.
She is supposed to head back home to LA, and we’ll be here. In Alaska. Without her.
Fucking hell, whose fault is that?
I turn back toward the skillet and force myself to focus on the food, rather than my mind’s fully justified scolding, but it’s hard. The fact is, Billie will be out of my life today if I can’t convince her to stay or convince myself to leave. None of it is simple or planned, and I don’t know what to do to make it right.
How in the hell did I let all of this happen? Why did I let myself open up to her and listen as she poured her heart out to me? Why didn’t I tell her to get the fuck off my property and leave it at that?
Irritated with the situation—irritated with myself for allowing it—I shut out my thoughts again. Just up and force them the fuck out of my head and finish making breakfast.
The food is ready in no time at all, and I serve a plate full of eggs and bacon to a smiling Billie.
“Thank you.”
God. That smile. It makes me feel lighter. Like my own personal salve, it loosens the anxiety tightening my chest.
“You’re welcome. Would you like to pay the bill for this delicious food now or after we eat?”
“The bill?” she asks, a snort escaping her nose. “What’s the damage?”
“Oh, it’s quite expensive.” I reach out and tug at the end of one of her pigtails. “Hopefully, you can afford it.”
She laughs. “How expensive?”
“One long, deep, sexy kiss.”
“A kiss?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, that, sir,” she says and stands up from her chair. “Is most definitely something I can afford.” On her tippy toes, she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls my lips to hers.
And the kiss doesn’t disappoint. It’s all the things I requested and more.
She tugs on my bottom lip with her teeth and slips her fingers into my hair and kisses me in the kind of way I fucking pray is only reserved for me.
I grab her ass with my hands, pulling her closer to me, and Billie moans against my mouth.
I could spend eternity kissing this woman like this and I don’t think it’d be enough.
Eventually, though, she pulls away on a giggle, and her big green eyes stare up into mine. “Have I covered the bill?”
“More than covered.” I smirk and squeeze her ass one last time before letting go. “That wasn’t an eggs and bacon kind of kiss. That was worthy of lobster and filet mignon and a six-course-fucking meal and a goddamn dessert buffet.”
She giggles again and sits back down in her chair. “Well, it looks like you’re now facing an IOU kind of situation.”
I smirk and sit down across from her. “And how do you expect I go about repaying you?”
“Come to LA with me,” she says daringly, a smirk at just the corner of her mouth leaving me to wonder if she’s completely serious or not. “Live in my apartment and be my personal chef for a month. Then, I think we’ll be even Stephen.”
I laugh. Outright. “I’m not going to be your personal chef in LA, princess.”
“What? Why not?” she questions. “It’s warm, sunny… I’m there… What’s not to love about LA?”
The tone is playful, but the topic is serious. And for as much as I dislike the thought of parting ways with Billie today, I can’t bring myself to believe going back to that place is okay. “When I left that city eight years ago, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t go back. LA is out of the question for me.”