Page 39 of My Grumpy Alpha

I don’t even know as I stumble exhausted toward his couch, it’s so fluffy, like a dog but fluffier. The fur. It beckons me. I don’t even remember closing my eyes until I smell coffee in the morning.

I jolt awake.

“I’m alive!”

I don’t mean to announce it like that, but I don’t even remember getting woken up in the middle of the night.

“Did you know,” Eli says from the kitchen wearing nothing but low-slung silk black pajama pants, “I nearly had a heart attack trying to wake you up the first time last night?”

Suddenly embarrassed, I sit up with the blanket. I probably look like a train wreck.

“I’m so sorry! What time is it?”

He checks the watch he already has on.

“We have two hours before my first meeting, and twelve until the full moon, so we have time to drink coffee decaf for me,normal for you, we can have some breakfast, and have time for you to tell me—”

His phone rings, he holds up a finger and answers it.

I lay back down, enjoying the blissful smell of coffee, until his panicked voice hits. I jolt back up as if to ask what it is.

He gives me an annoyed look and hangs up.

“Think you can get ready in thirty minutes?”

NO!

“Yes, of course, yes.” I totally lie, then grab my shoes and purse and bolt for the door, then jump back and point at his coffee mug. He rolls his eyes and hands it over.

“You’re a saint.”

“Never been called that before.”

“Thank you.” I genuinely mean it.

He just nods.

“Try not to stop by when I’m naked again without at least announcing yourself, oh and I had the doorman deliver the wine you stole to your apartment, since you couldn’t help yourself, but honestly, he leans in so close that it feels like he’s going to kiss me,” Instead he unlocks the door.

“Trust me when I say I know the feeling.”

My heart cannot handle the up and downs. I start to leave when he yells, “Nine am downstairs, my car.”

I wave him off and attempt to power walk and drink his incredible espresso and get to my apartment. I have no clue what to wear, but I do know that I need to look professional and be ready to do my job so I chug the rest of the coffee add a light touch of makeup and throw on a navy dress with a white coat and tan boots.

And this time.

To avoid a repeat.

I keep my hair down.

I make it downstairs in record time to see him waiting by the car, no not waiting, literally leaning against it with aviators on, a grey suit and red shirt open at the chest, his hair styled messy, and a smile on his face as he stares at his phone.

Why does the universe do this to people?

It’s so unfair.

I almost stomp my foot before getting outside.