Chapter Sixteen
HEATHER HAD EXACTLY ONE plan for Thanksgiving:
Sleeping in.
She’d even bought a sleeping mask for the occasion. A fuzzy leopard-print affair to block out the morning light so that she could finally—finally—catch up on some sleep.
The sleep mask did an excellent job blocking out the sunlight.
It did not, however, stand a chance against a thirtysomething male rummaging around in her closet.
At first Heather thought she was dreaming. Or hallucinating.
But a full minute after she’d shoved her mask up onto her forehead and blinked sleepily in the direction of the ruckus, it became painfully clear that this was no dream.
Josh Tanner was in her bedroom, rifling through her clothes like he owned the place.
What. The actual. Fuck.
“Seriously?” she managed, her voice still croaky with sleep.
He glanced over his shoulder with a cocky grin. “Morning, 4C. Aren’t you pretty in the morning. And by pretty I mean your hair is enormous.”
Heather sat up. “How did you get in here?”
“Key,” he said simply, as though it were obvious, turning his attention back to her closet and pulling out a blue-and-white-striped dress. “Is this a tent?”
“What do you mean key?” she asked, lifting a hand to smooth her hair and then realizing it would be futile. She’d slept with it wet last night. His description of enormous was probably phrasing it politely.
“Mrs. Calvin had one made for me a while back.”
Of course.
“And I’m just learning about this now, because . . . ?” she asked.
He shot her another of those cocky grins. “Been saving it for a special occasion. Happy Thanksgiving, 4C.”
“Hang on,” she said, lifting a hand and frowning as the last remnants of her sleep fog drifted away. “You’re talking to me now?”
“What do you mean?” he put the maxi dress back in the closet. Not where he’d found it, but in the very back corner, as though hoping she’d forget about its existence.
“Oh, I don’t know, how about the fact that you’ve been giving me the silent treatment ever since I pried into your personal life last week? Hell, Josh, I haven’t even seen you in days.” Or at least not since that horribly awkward scene outside their apartments the other night, with Kitty and Trevor.
Heather knew that nothing had happened with her and Trevor. They’d talked, watched a movie. She’d fallen asleep, and when she’d woken up the next morning, he was gone.
But as far as what happened with Josh and Kitty, she didn’t have a clue. And if the truth wasn’t the one she wanted, she wasn’t sure she needed to know.
“That’s because I’ve been out of town,” he said, tossing a black sweater on the bed. “You should wear that.”
“Out of town where?”
“Nashville. To see my sister.”
“Since when do you have a sister?” she muttered, reaching for her hair band on the nightstand and pulling her hair into a knot on top of her head.
“Since always. Jamie.”
“Older? Younger?”
“Twin.”
Heather stared at him as he pulled out a pair of black pants and tossed them on top of the sweater. “Yup. Lives in Nashville. She couldn’t come home for Thanksgiving because she’s a hundred pounds pregnant, so I went down to visit her for a couple days.”
“Well, what about before that,” Heather said. “You were barely speaking to me.”
“I was brooding.”
“You mean sulking,” Heather corrected.
“No, you were sulking. I was brooding.”
“Why the distinction?”
He pointed at her breasts, then her crotch. “Tits. And, ah—”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Yes? What charming word for the female anatomy do you want to throw out there, big guy?”
Josh merely grinned. “Coffee’s almost done. Get thy ass to the shower.”
“Um, why?”
“Because it’s Thanksgiving. We’re supposed to be at my parents’ house in a couple hours, and I’m supposed to pick up some flowers for my mom’s damn centerpiece on the way.”
“We’re supposed to be at your parents’ house?”