Beauty And The Brooding Billionaire (South Shore Billionaires 2)

“You’re freezing,” she said, looking up at him. “Let me put your things in the dryer.”

“I don’t exactly have anything to change into.”

Suggestion swirled around them, but Jessica was the one to break the moment. “I have a blanket. I know it’s not optimal, but you can’t go home like that. Unless you want to go to Jeremy’s and ask for a change of clothes.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “No, thanks. He’ll ask too many questions.”

“Well, then. Hang on.”

She disappeared into the bathroom and came out again with another towel and a soft blanket. She handed him the towel first. “You can put this on like a skirt, to cover your...sensitive bits.” Her cheeks flushed. “And then wrap the blanket around you.”

He grabbed at the hem of his T-shirt and swept it over his head, though it stuck to his shoulders as he pulled it off. He dropped it on the floor with the first towel, and when he saw her owlish expression at his bare chest he paused with his fingers on the button of his shorts.

Her cheeks were ruddy now and she turned away. “I’ll just go change and then put my stuff in with yours.”

A laugh built in his chest as he took off his shorts and secured the towel away from his...what had she called them? Sensitive bits. The blanket was large enough that he wrapped it around himself like a cape. When she emerged from the bedroom, she gathered up his wet clothes and scuttled off to the laundry room. He heard a few beeps and then the low hum of the dryer.

When she came back out, she stopped in the kitchen and put water in her kettle. She’d changed into yoga pants and a soft sweatshirt with paint stains on it. Her hair was starting to dry a little, with bits of natural curl framing her face. He felt like an idiot standing there in a towel and blanket, but what the hell. Nothing about their relationship so far had been ordinary or exactly comfortable.

She looked over at him and laughed. “You look silly.”

“I feel silly.”

“How about that drink now? I have some Scotch. It might warm you up.”

He met her gaze. “I don’t drink anymore.”

Her face changed. First there was surprise, followed swiftly by embarrassment. Then a growing realization and acceptance. She’d been at his house. To Jeremy’s for drinks, but he’d never partaken in anything alcoholic. He didn’t make a big deal of it, but he could see her putting the pieces together.

In her blunt fashion, she met his gaze and asked, “Are you an alcoholic?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

BRAN SHRUGGED AS he considered her question. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know if there’s an actual criteria I would meet or anything. What I do know is that I was self-medicating to deal with my grief, and I stopped.” He hesitated, then decided to be completely honest. “Jennie would be pretty angry with me if she knew I’d turned to alcohol as a coping mechanism.”

“What took its place?”

“Getting out of New York. Long walks on the beach. And there were times it was really hard. But I don’t keep any in my house, and it makes it easier.”

Her lips dropped open and an expression of dismay darkened her face. “Oh, Bran. I gave you a bottle of wine that first day for stress. I’m so sorry.”

He waved it away, and nearly dropped the blanket. “Don’t be. You didn’t know. I’ve still got it. You’re welcome to it sometime when you’re visiting.”

Her blue eyes touched his. “Will I be visiting?”

It was hard to draw breath. This was the moment where they were maybe becoming a thing. Maybe not sex. Maybe not ever sex. But agreeing to spend time together rather than finding ways not to or chalking it up to coincidence. He nodded slightly. “If you want to.”

Her voice was soft. “I’d like that.”

He was in danger of moving closer to her again, what with her soft voice and big eyes. “Can we sit down somewhere? I’m feeling kind of ridiculous here.”

“Of course!” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him. “If you can make it around the drop cloth, there’s a decent sofa.”

He took a look at her current painting as he went by. It was the lighthouse, a full rendering of it, with the soft colors of a sunrise taking shape behind. She was so talented. Even partially completed, the painting seemed to breathe, have a life of its own. “This is beautiful, Jess.”

She turned and smiled, then gestured toward the sofa. “Thank you. I’m playing with some colors with that one, and so far I’m liking it.”

They sat on the sofa, the plush cushions soft and comfortable. Jess tucked her feet up underneath