The Rogue (Hideaway Springs #3)

9. Levi

9

I ’m up before my alarm and blame it on the thunder and lightning outside my window and the pattering against my roof.

It’s five o’clock. Still dark. I punch the corner of my pillow but know it’s no use. That last hour snooze is gone and there’s no getting it back.

I rise and slip on my gym shorts. A longer workout never hurt anybody.

Tessa’s first two days with Jackson seemed to go off without a hitch. But I’m not buying for one minute that she’s been sleeping in. Yesterday, she started making breakfast after we’d come down, but miraculously, the refrigerator was cleaned out and cabinets rearranged in a way that made sense.

Whatever. I could have done that if I had time—and the energy.

Can’t wait for the day she oversleeps because my kid wore her out. She has no idea.

The thought should scare me. That she’s never done this before. That she doesn’t have a single parental bone in her body. But my dumbass is frustratingly intrigued .

One good thing will come out of it, I suppose. No one can ever say I don’t give people the benefit of the doubt. Because I’ve had my doubts about Tessa Banks for years.

And every time she’s in town, she proves me right.

I brush my teeth, throw on a clean T-shirt, and toss a towel over my shoulder before stepping out into the dark hall.

I nearly crash with a half-naked body as it passes in front of me.

Tessa gasps, throwing a hand to her chest. My gaze draws up from her bare legs, the tight spandex shorts around her hips and the sports bra covering her chest.

Gripping her forearms, I haul her to the bedroom across mine, shut her door and crowd her against it.

“What the hell are you doing?” I grit.

Breath hitching, she stares up at me. Her hair and face are damp. The top of her breasts glisten with sweat, and I struggle to keep my eyes on hers. Swallowing, she answers. “I think that’s my question.”

“Jackson could have stepped out of his room. You can’t be walking around in your underwear.”

Her expression hardens and she pins me with those whiskey-colored eyes. “I can see how this might bother you.” She juts out her hips, hitting my erection, causing me to grunt in response. “But how is this a problem for someone who won’t be up for hours?”

Lifting her arms above her head, I growl. “Don’t do that again.”

Tearing her heated gaze from my lips, she meets my eyes. “I think inappropriate went out the window when you shut me in here and pinned me against the wall, Indie.”

She has a point.

I release her and storm to the wardrobe, pulling the doors apart.

Empty.

“Where are your clothes? ”

Sighing, she crosses to the nightstand and pulls at the drawers. “There. Will you be inspecting my room on a daily basis?”

What is wrong with this woman? Who shoves their stuff into tiny nightstand drawers? “This room doesn’t have closets. Hang your clothes in the wardrobe.”

“No.” The answer comes fast and flat.

“Fine, I don’t fucking care where you put your clothes, as long as you’re fully dressed when you walk out this door. Jackson is nine years old. Nine . Not three. You need to be more conscious.” Scanning her once more, I take note of just how sweaty and winded she is. “How long was your workout?”

She looks to the side as if she’s guilty of something. “I was up at four.”

I drag a hand through my hair. “I’ll leave you to it. Meet me downstairs in an hour.”

Sweat drips down my face as I grip the cold metal again, muscles straining with the weight.

It’s a rhythm I’m used to.

It should be mindless. Purposeless.

Instead, Tessa’s face, the rise and fall of her chest, and her damp skin linger on the edge of my focus like she’s my motivation.

I check the time and it’s like I’m competing with her, because until I get that full hour, I’m not leaving this room.

I dab my face and pecs with a clean towel and climb the steps back to the front hall. Then start a pot of coffee .

I grip the edge of the counter, biting down a growl.

I’ve got to stop being a dick to her.

And I’ve got to keep my hands off Tessa Banks— stealing glances at her skin every chance I get. I damn near lost myself in her bedroom.

It would have been so easy.

Just the feel of her skin under my fingertips sent me soaring past levels of appropriate boss-employee behavior. All that was missing was a taste of that pretty little mouth. The mouth that curved up a tad when she called me out on my hardon.

And yet, somehow, I have zero regrets about not hiring Carol. Because watching Tessa walk out of my life for good was something I didn’t realize I wasn’t ready for.

I hear her soft footsteps coming down the stairs and sniff some control into my system.

Reaching up, I pull the cowboy mug she seems to favor from the cabinet and pour her some coffee.

“Sugar?” I ask.

No response.

Fuck, did I screw up so badly that I’m getting the cold shoulder now?

“Okay, no sugar,” I turn, finding Tessa ripping her gaze off my mid-section before quickly snapping to my eyes.

“Yes, please,” she responds in a single breath.

I glance down and fuck—forgot my shirt.

I step closer, keeping the island counter between us, ignoring the fact that I am a fucking hypocrite. “How many?”

“Two.”

I drop two spoonfuls into her mug.

She smirks at the one I chose for her and takes a sip. “Perfect. ”

“Sorry, I forgot to slip it back on after my workout,” I say, turning away from her lingering gaze that doesn’t help my inappropriate thoughts.

“I suppose there are things we both should get used to.”

I glance back at her. She’s in skinny jeans and an oversized shirt.

“It’s supposed to be close to ninety today. You’re not gonna make it far in that.”

“I’ll be alright. Wouldn’t want to be dressing provocatively in front of the almost-teenager you’re raising.”

I grunt. “I overreacted, Tess.”

She twists the coffee mug between her palms.

“It’s highly unlikely that Jackson would be up that early, but I would still appreciate it if—”

“Won’t happen again,” she offers quickly.

I release a breath, my shoulders slumping. “Thank you.”

She winces and covers her eyes. “And sorry I did that thing where I—”

“It’s forgotten.” I almost laugh and cross to her, pulling her hand down. “You wouldn’t have if I hadn't crowded your personal space.”

Her eyes are on my chest, lips parting delicately. “All good.”

My gaze drops to where her teeth grab hold of her full bottom lip, and I can consider my self-control fucked.

My hand reaches to pull it from between her teeth. “You’re gonna give yourself a bruise like that.”

“You almost sound like you care,” she rasps. And God, I could get used to that voice.

I may already have.

I drop my hand from the side of her face and step back. “Now, maybe when you’re done eye-fucking me, you can get back to work.”

The corner of her lips quirk. “Touche, Indie.” She moves around me and pulls at contents from the cabinets.

Well, I’ll be damned. She remembered .