“Hey, Max.”
Aidan paused at the soft female voice, sounding foreign and familiar at the same time. He glanced at the speaker through the doorway. Silky, shiny chestnut hair fell halfway down her back; she was dressed casually in an oversized shirt and faded jeans. She leaned over the Labrador, petting him affectionately.
Brief snippets of hazy memories floated in and out of his brain. Sitting at the bar. Climbing into her warm truck and her wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. Looking down upon the top of her head as she was on her knees before him...
Max looked back at him, and the woman followed his gaze. Her smile was kind and genuine. “Hi. I thought I heard you up. Would you like some coffee?”
It was so strange. His first impression of her (his first sober one, anyway) was that she was definitely not the type of woman who would pick up a man in a bar and take him home. His cock, however, disagreed. It began to rise in interest at the sound of her voice, and Aidan was glad he’d left his shirt untucked.
To the woman, he simply nodded. “Coffee would be great, thanks.”
She smiled kindly again. “Come on in and sit down. You look a little shaky yet.” He walked hesitantly into the kitchen and sat down at the breakfast counter. Max placed himself at his side, and Aidan found himself reaching down absently to stroke his soft head.
“I’m sorry,” he said as a name popped into his head. “Mary?”
She turned to face him, affording him a full frontal view. Aidan couldn’t contain the slight curving of his lips. Her oversized shirt featured the shadowy outline of a dog, captioned I Like Big Mutts, and I Cannot Lie.
“That’s me,” she said, returning his smile. “And that’s Max.” Max’s tail thumped at the sound of his name. “He likes you.”
Aidan looked down, surprised to find the dog listing drunkenly to the side. “Does he always sit like that?”
“He has severe hip dysplasia.” At Aidan’s blank expression, she explained, “His hip sockets are filled in; his back legs aren’t in the joints, so he sways when he walks, and leans when he sits.”
“Sounds painful.”
She shrugged and looked at the dog with obvious affection. “Doesn’t seem to be. At least not yet. I think he’d let me know.”
Aidan didn’t know what to say to that, so he just continued to pet the dog. He found it strangely comforting.
“You don’t remember anything about last night, do you?” she said, clearly taking pity on him when she saw him working so hard to put it all together.
“Not much, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t cause you any trouble.”
“You didn’t.” As she turned away, he saw the slight tilt to her lips, as if the question amused her.
His eyes were drawn to her shapely behind as she reached for a mug, though the rest of her was pretty nice, too. Brown hair, brown eyes. Delicate, feminine features. She wore little to no makeup, and certainly didn’t make a habit of dressing to impress. She was no kid; he’d put her around his own age, maybe a little less.
There was nothing about her that immediately drew the eye. He remembered thinking along the same lines the night before. He doubted he would have given her a second glance, then realized what a damn shame that would have been. She had a very serene, natural type of beauty that he found surprisingly attractive.
“Can you, uh, maybe fill me in a little? Like why I was naked?”
The lips, just a little fuller than normal, quirked again. “Yes. Do you take cream? Sugar?”
“Black is fine.”
She put the mug in front of him, then went over to the microwave and extracted a covered plate. Placing it before him, she lifted the lid to reveal scrambled eggs and toast. “Go on,” she coaxed, putting a fork and napkin beside the plate. “It’ll help settle your stomach.”
He studied her carefully, but didn’t make a move to eat. “It’s not poisoned or anything,” she said with a teasing glint in her eyes. To prove her point, she moved close to him, picked up the fork, and took a bite herself. “See?” Then she broke off a corner of the toast and fed it to a patiently waiting Max.
For whatever reason, those little actions eased him. Or maybe it was the subtle scent of jasmine and vanilla he’d scented when she came close that did it. She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced down at his plate expectantly, then back at him. Apparently he wasn’t going to get any answers until he ate something. In that moment, she reminded him of Lexi with her motherly but well-intentioned bossiness.
Hiding his urge to smile, he dutifully speared some scrambled eggs on his fork and brought it to his mouth. She nodded, satisfied, and went back to the sink to fill a small, copper colored watering can.
“I didn’t take advantage of you,” she said, glancing up at him with a mischievous sparkle in her eye, “if that’s what you’re thinking. You slipped in the parking lot last night, and your pants were covered with slush and rock salt.”