Apparently, he was a slow learner, but he finally got it. He was done with this. Done with love.

Chapter 9

Daisy woke to the scent of coffee. Not yet opening her eyes, she smiled and stretched, reaching out for Diego, but he wasn’t in bed, and the sheets were cool on his side.

This had her opening her eyes and sitting up.

Diego was across the room in the galley area, leaning back against the counter, sipping at a mug of coffee.

Watching her.

He wore his jeans unfastened and nothing else, which meant they sat dangerously low on his hips. His hair was uncombed, his jaw unshaven, his bare feet crossed.

The wild mountain cat playing at domesticity.

She pushed the hair from her face, and even though the sheet covered her, she felt self-conscious. Which was silly, given that he’d seen everything she had. Seen. Touched. Kissed. Nibbled… “Hey.”

“Hey.” He set his mug aside and said nothing more.

She wondered how to get out of bed without revealing just how naked she felt. She tried wrapping herself up the best she could and stood. But when she took a step, the sheet—still tucked in at the foot of the bed—deserted her.

Instead of teasing her or enjoying the view, he tossed her his shirt from the back of a chair.

She quickly pulled it down over her head, thankful that it fell to her mid-thighs. “So…” she said. “Good morning.”

He poured coffee into a second mug and handed it to her. “I don’t know about good.”

Yeah, something was very off. Her stomach clenched. Last night had been good. No, correction, it had been amazing. So, what had gone wrong between then and now?

“You got an email,” he said. “Someone named Poppy has the numbers on the new business and the perfect apartment for you.” He paused. “In New York.”

Oh. Oh, shit. “I meant to tell you about that.”

“Before or after you said you wanted me to move back home?”

“Poppy’s my old college roommate,” she said. “And, yeah, we talked about starting up our own event company. The deal was that we each come up with a proposal for our prospective cities and then talk. I didn’t commit to going to New York.”

“But you thought about it.”

“I did,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going.”

Diego turned away. “You’ve got to do whatever you’ve got to do. Same for me. I’ll be heading out of here right after the wedding.”

She ignored the way his dismissive tone sliced right through her. Or tried to. But it was impossible to do so because, in spite of their off-the-charts chemistry in bed, he was once again not putting her first. “So, you saw an email, and just like that, you’re ready to bail,” she said. “Again. Do I have that right?”

“Actually, the first time, you bailed.”

“No, Diego,” she said, voice tight with anger and frustration. And sadness. Damn, so much sadness. “You did. In fact, you’ve had one foot out the door since the beginning, even when just last night you let me think this was going somewhere.”