The Silver Fox (Red's Tavern 3)

Hell, it would have been nice to curl up next to him. Right now it was slightly morning-chilly, and the idea of sidling up to another warm body under the comforter sounded like heaven.

The only problem was that I still had a pretty serious case of morning wood.

I shifted in the bed, so that I was lying on my back, and I scooted a little closer toward Perry. He was facing away from me, so my shoulder and the side of my body brushed up against his back.

He was warm. He felt amazing. His breathing was slow and steady, probably still asleep and dreaming of a million recipes in his head. I got just a tiny bit closer. His breathing caught, and suddenly he sat upright in the bed, leaving a cold space where his body was.

Damn. I’d gone too far, and now he was up.

“Morning, Chef,” I mumbled, my voice still a little hoarse from sleep.

He yawned, glancing back at me briefly. “Shit. It’s already nine?” He bolted out of bed, heading over to the window and shoving open the curtains.

“Ow,” I protested as an entire solar flare’s worth of light poured into the room. “Shut those curtains. Stay in bed and cuddle a while.”

“Very funny.”

I rubbed my eyes. “Wasn’t joking, but okay.”

“I was supposed to be up early to help with setup outside,” Perry said.

“I’m sure they were fine.”

“Mom and Cam needed my help, though. I’m going to have to talk to the groundskeeper about those azaleas. God, I hope the kitchen remembered to include a gluten-free option for Aunt Yvonne.”

“You just woke up and you’re already in full panic mode,” I mumbled, sitting up a little higher in the bed, scrubbing my palms over my face. Perry was still standing at the window, staring down at the courtyard. He was wearing a tight fitted light grey T-shirt and sweatpants, his hands on his hips.

“Is that your problem-solver stance?” I asked.

He turned to me, cocking his head to one side. “What?”

“Hands on your hips like that,” I said. “Your stern, concerned silver fox look.”

“This is just how I stand. And what did you call me?”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Silver fox.”

He puffed out a tiny laugh, finally relaxing his arms, then reaching up to do a morning stretch above his head. His taut muscles were on gorgeous display as he stretched, and I found myself admiring them again.

“I am not a silver fox,” he finally said, coming back to sit on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m more like a silver… fraidy-cat.”

“Oh, please,” I said. “You’re strong, when you need to be.”

He pulled in a long breath. “I just want everyone to be comfortable. My family, my customers, anyone around me.”

“Well, I want you to be comfortable. So that’s going to be the goal today.”

“I’m definitely comfortable on this bed,” he said, letting himself lie back down momentarily, his legs still folded over the side of the bed.

“It’s like a fucking cloud, isn’t it?” I said. “I slept like a baby.”

“Me too. For the first time in a while.”

I reached down, smoothing his soft hair with my hand. It was an impulse that I hadn’t really considered before I did it, but the moment my hand was on him, I realized how much I was enjoying it.

I expected Perry to shy away from it, but instead he just let me continue slowly dragging my fingers through his hair, over and over, as silence filled the air again.

For a moment, it felt like everything was real. A quiet moment in the morning shared by an actual couple. I watched the tiny motes in the air, sunlit and slow, like a halo around Perry’s face.

How long had it been since I’d felt this good? I’d certainly been lonely since coming to Amberfield, but it had been going on for longer. Even back in the city, I’d been searching for something. I wasn’t empty, by any means—I loved my job, and I got plenty of action.

But this morning, I was full in a way that had been absent for a long time.

I was important. Even if it was only to Perry.

I had a role to play, and I was going to fucking nail it. Nobody here knew about my “playboy” reputation. Nobody knew I had never dated a man. I could be exactly who I decided to be. I could help Perry. And that felt dangerously good.

“Oh, boy,” Perry said, slowly getting up again and walking back toward the window.

A screechy sound emanated through the window, and suddenly, an electric guitar solo carried in.

“Your Mom hired a Led Zeppelin cover band for the family reunion, babe?” I asked.

He groaned. “Not quite.”

My hard-on was luckily gone by now. I tossed away the covers and got up, pacing over to the window.