Page 16 of Connor's Claim
He walked away, and I waited for the sound of running water then scampered to the kitchen and quickly texted Genevieve.
Everly: I’ve got my phone back. Thanks for sending your number.
The sky outside the big arched windows was brightening with the start of day, pink-lit clouds spreading across the city. They reflected on the river below, making a pretty sight. Although it was Sunday, I’d normally be working and tended to get up early regardless.
I cruised the kitchen for coffee and breakfast supplies. A silver coffee machine had an array of pods, but there was no realfood in the place that I could find, only leftover takeaway cartons and some kind of protein shake.
My phone buzzed.
Genevieve: Of course. Like I said, we’re neighbours, so if there’s anything you need, just ask. It’s good timing that you’re here, actually, because there’s something I wanted to talk to you about as well.
Everly: Ask away.
Genevieve: Meet me on the roof in an hour?
I tapped my lip, unsure of how to reply. I liked having the secret of my rooftop friendship group, but there was no way I could sneak up without Connor seeing.
A few minutes on, and the water stopped, then the deadly, beautiful man appeared at the end of the hall. A dark-grey towel wrapped around his waist, and he used another to scrub water from his brown hair. Droplets ran down his chest, and my insides tightened.
“I keep opposite hours to ye,” he said. “I’d usually rest now and get up in the afternoon.”
“A night owl,” I answered softly. Tiredness hung over him. I hadn’t noticed it before, but he’d shed layers. I gestured at my phone. “I’ll work while you sleep. Don’t worry, I won’t stare at you.”
His smirk returned. “Do whatever ye want to me in my sleep.”
The statement was so loaded with innuendo, I couldn’t stop a laugh. “Same, big man. Go rest.”
He did, giving me the freedom to text Genevieve back and agree to meet her. Maybe I’d get a few answers of my own.
Chapter 7
Connor
The aroma of something sweet reached my nose. It didn’t conceal the maddening scent of Everly in my bed, a punishment I’d had to endure even in my dreams, but it drew me from my room to the kitchen.
The lass was pulling something from the oven, what sounded like a podcast playing in the background with female voices discussing empowerment. She’d taken ownership of my hoodie again and had the sleeves rolled up in her efforts.
I squinted, almost ready to pinch myself because nothing I was seeing made sense. It took a few seconds, but I found my words. “Ye baked?”
Everly jumped, then set the tray down on a heat mat. “You startled me.”
“Where the fuck did ye get the ingredients?”
“I have my ways.”
I stomped over. “No, seriously.”
“Genevieve. I asked, and she brought them to me, posting them through your pointless parcel delivery box.”
She knew Genevieve. I’d been aware of the connection but had no idea they were close enough for this.
Everly rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand, leaving a dusting of icing sugar in its wake. She had her hair up and her neck exposed, though her brow was pinched like she’d been fretting over something. “I needed food. I’ve had a rough twenty-four hours. Stop scowling like that. You’re allowed to help yourself.”
On autopilot, I sat on one of the high stools on the other side of the counter and took in the tray. “Cookies?”
“No, miniature lasagnes.”
I lifted my gaze to find her laughing at me.