Crazy Stupid Bromance (Bromance Book Club #3) - Lyssa Kay Adams Page 0,16

the rodent with a wad of paper towel and tossed it in the bag. Alexis stirred again, so he froze. Her chest rose and fell evenly with every breath, and in her sleep, her face was as relaxed as he’d ever seen it. He wanted to crawl back in bed with her and wrap his arm around her waist.

Which is why he forced his feet to move. He carried the bag and dead mouse downstairs. The dumpster was just outside the back door, and after tossing it in, he dragged his keys from his pocket. There was no way he was actually going to fall asleep again, so he might as well make use of the time.

He grabbed his backpack, went back inside, and flopped down on the couch. He did a quick search for kidney donation risks. The first result was a FAQ from the Mayo Clinic, so he clicked on it and sat back against the cushions to skim the key points. Thousands of kidney transplants were performed every year in the United States . . . higher rate of success when donated by a living donor . . . minimal risks of long-term health problems for donors . . . recovery of six weeks.

He clicked through several more search results, but all gave the same basic information. Kidney donation was safe with very few risks to the donor, and donations from family members who shared a genetic link could reduce the chances of the recipient’s body rejecting the new organ.

Noah closed his laptop and scrubbed his hands down his face. It was all so clinical. He stared at the ceiling and pictured Alexis upstairs. In bed. Another groan brought him upright, and he lifted the lid on his laptop again. He typed in the name Elliott Vanderpool. It took less than five minutes of research to realize that he had a lot more than abandoning his daughter to answer for.

The bastard was the head of engineering for the aerospace division of one of the country’s biggest defense contractors, BosTech—a company that had been under federal investigation five years ago for failing to properly report defects in its drone navigation systems, resulting in the deaths of hundreds of Iraqi civilians.

Which meant he was neck-deep in blood.

A man like that didn’t deserve to even breathe Alexis’s name much less ask for a goddamned kidney from her.

CHAPTER SIX

Alexis woke up the next morning feeling like a hollowed-out pumpkin. And not the perky, freshly carved kind either. She was more like a month-old jack-o’-lantern, empty and soft, likely to break into squishy pieces if kicked over.

She’d fallen asleep on top of her comforter, but at some point, Noah must have covered her up before leaving. She couldn’t believe she’d slept all night. It must have been the whiskey.

A meow next to the bed interrupted the pointless direction of her thoughts. Alexis rolled onto her side and stared down at Beefcake. She patted the mattress for him to jump up. It took several tries before he finally hauled his substantial bulk onto the bed with her. He rubbed his face on hers before settling down with a strong purr. She was the only person he trusted enough to let his guard down around like this. The only person he trusted, period. Her poor misunderstood cat.

Alexis adopted him just six weeks after her mom died. She hadn’t been looking for a new cat. She could barely function, and the last thing she’d needed was the responsibility of a new pet. But the shelter had called and said he’d been there for more than three months. Could she at least foster him for a little while? Alexis had taken one look at his angry face and knew he’d be hers forever. She’d never been able to turn her back on a lonely creature.

Lonely creatures were almost always fighting a battle no one knew about.

The morning alarm on her cell phone chimed on the bedside table. Time to get up. She couldn’t afford to lounge in bed, no matter what had happened yesterday. The café didn’t care that a wrecking ball had crashed through her life.

With an apology to Beefcake, Alexis sat up and lifted the afghan from her legs.

And that’s when she smelled it.

Coffee.

It had to be her imagination. But when she slid from bed and stood, the smell hit her again. Stronger now. Like a gift from Heaven. Had Noah programmed her coffeepot before leaving last night? It was exactly the kind of