I woke up in Heaven. There was no other way to describe it. It was as though I slept on a fluffy cloud while bacon and cake beckoned me from afar. My hand reached out for Vivienne, but the fluffy cloud was disappointingly vacant.

Her spot was cold. Fumbling with my phone, I saw it was almost noon. Shit, I missed out on the early morning weekend drunks looking for rides.

I knew last night that I’d be losing out on pay if I pursued this woman, and concluded that it’d be worth it. Fuck was it ever. Vivienne was incredible, and for the first time in my life, I hoped this might turn into something more.

Uncertainty and dread filled my brain. A flashback to when she handed me my walking papers emerged. Would she do that again? Did she only invite me here for another fun evening?

Probably. What exactly would such an extraordinary woman want with a guy like me? Nothing. Absofuckinglutely nada. If I’d met her a few years down the road, maybe I’d have something to offer her. Unfortunately, right now I was just some loser ride-share driver, chasing a dream or two. And she was a successful businesswoman who probably wouldn’t have room in her ultra-successful life for a much younger, much less successful driver. Shit.

I sat up and rubbed my face, trying to erase my negative thoughts when a nagging pain on my arm reminded me of last night. If my tattoo was hurting, I’d bet Vivienne’s was, too.

It was time I stopped acting like a big ninny and faced the music. The most spectacular woman I’d ever met was about to dump my sorry loser ass, and I had to act like it wouldn’t kill. Again. Fuck, I couldn’t believe I set myself up for another fall.

Taking a deep breath, I plodded into her bathroom for a quick shower. I might as well get this over with.

I didn’t hurry on my way down. The noises from the kitchen echoed up the stairs, so I knew she likely wouldn’t venture up here anytime soon. Her house was massive. I hated to say I was more than a little curious about what other rooms were up here.

Spare room, spare room, bathroom. Office, closet…baby’s room? What the fuck? Did Vivienne have a kid? She never said a thing. It wouldn’t be completely inconceivable for a woman of her age to have a kid or two. A word of warning would have been nice, though.

I touched the smooth dark wood of the crib. She’d spent a shitload of time decorating this room. The light yellow walls were filled with pastel pictures of baby cartoon animals. The matching changing table was stocked.

A rocking chair sat in the corner, a beautiful blanket slung overtop. Hmm. Everything for a baby’s room, minus the baby.

Pancakes, waffles, bacon, sausages, two kinds of eggs, crepes—blueberry and apple, fruit salad, and blueberry muffins. He was going to think I was a crazy woman. But I had to keep busy after I woke up, and cooking helped calm my nerves. I was scared that I’d wake Jason up if I tossed and turned much more. My mind was racing. I just couldn’t stop thinking about everything that happened last night.

The sound of the shower in my bathroom made my stomach twist, knowing that soon he’d be downstairs. Oh man, just thinking of Jason naked in the shower immediately gave me shivers. I turned up the music and continued cooking up a storm to divert my mind from the sexy, unclothed man. Steaming hot water falling all over his perfectly sculpted body, soaping up his chest and his chiseled abs and down…

Shit, I quickly scraped off the pancakes I just burned while my lust-filled mind wandered to water wonderlands. The pan charred, so I carried the heavy cast-iron to the sink to wipe out the burned bits when I inadvertently caught the inside of my arm. Damn, it was hot. Double shit.

I didn’t notice the movement behind me. I was too stunned by the pain of my burning flesh. But before I knew it, hands seized my arm and shoved it underneath a cold stream of water.

“Water. You need to cool this down,” Jason said into my ear, his body pressed up tight behind me. I barely computed what just happened. Pain? What pain? All I felt right then was the hot man behind me, holding me. “You okay? How’s it feel?”

I was confused for a second, instead thinking he asked how it felt to have him so close, supporting me, whispering into my ear. Because that honestly was awesome. But it soon dawned on me that he had asked how my newly seared arm felt. Idiot. “Uh, I’m not sure. It’s fine under the water, but I have a feeling once I take it out of the cold it’ll sting.”

“Keep your arm under the water. Do you have any burn cream?” Burn cream? What the hell was that? And who cared what it was. I had a handsome man behind me who smelled unbelievably yummy. Nothing turned me on like a hot guy straight from the shower. “Vivienne? Do you have any burn cream in the house?”

Shit. Concentrate. Not on attacking the freshly showered man, on the conversation. “I don’t even know what burn cream is, Jason.”

“Stay here. I’ve got some in my car.” And with that, he left me leaning against the cupboard, arm hanging under a stream of cold water.

He was back quickly, and with more than just burn cream. “Did you take any more meds this morning?” Meds? Oh, he meant the pills he gave me last night for my tattoo.

“No, not since the ones you gave me.”

“Okay, open up.” That phrase coming out of his sexy mouth surrounded by the hottest looking stubble I’d ever seen evoked a tirade of meaning in my demented little brain. Open up what exactly? I’d open pretty much whatever this guy asked.

He smiled at me. “Vivienne, more pills. Open your mouth.” Oh, right. I did as told and swallowed down the glass of water he handed me. “Good girl, let’s take your arm out for a second and see how it looks.” He gently grabbed my arm and turned off the faucet while I just stood there, stunned.

“It didn’t break the skin,” he said as he inspected the red mark more closely. Using some gauze from I don’t know where, he tenderly dabbed the wound. “This cream will numb the pain. Use it again in a few hours,” he said as he smeared thick white cream onto my arm and then bandaged it. “There. Done.” He peered down at me and grinned. “How do you feel?”

Umm, a little shocked and a whole lot horny? “Fine. It doesn’t hurt at all now.” I scanned around him to the counter where there sat a little red first aid box. “Do you always carry around a first aid kit?”

“Yeah, my customers can be fairly accident-prone. It’s good to be prepared for anything.” Oh, that made sense.

“Is that a book?” I stepped closer and picked up the book that had fallen out of the kit. “Hamlet by William Shakespeare? Why is it in with your first aid stuff?”

“I must’ve stuffed it in there by mistake. There’s so much shit in my trunk,” he said, removing the book from my hand and placing it back where I’d found it.

“You said your tattoo was a Shakespearean quote, right?” The guy really liked The Bard.

“Yeah. What’s past is prologue. I’ve read everything that man ever wrote.”

“Really? I love him. I’ve got most of his works in the office library. Although, I admit to using the cheat sheets for help.” I’d never dated a man who read before. The idea of a hot guy like Jason with a book in his hands—now that was a sexy sight I’d like to see.

“I do, too. That shit’s hard to understand. But you get better at it the more you read of it. Anyway, how are you feeling?” he asked, voice full of concern.

“Good, thanks to your quick medical intervention. It was like having my own hot paramedic come to the rescue.” Why did I say that? I must be in shock or something.

He laughed and pulled me in for a quick hug, watching out for my wounded arm and still careful of my tattoo. “You’re welcome, baby,” he said before he leaned down and took my mouth in a no-nonsense kiss. The sound of his groan made my happy place throb. I stepped further into his body. The kiss kicked into overdrive, but soon I was reminded of the muffins that needed to come out of the oven. Stupid, horribly timed buzzer.

“Oh, the muffins. I better get them before they burn, too,” I said, drawing away from him as I scooped up the oven mitts.

Immediately, he yanked the gloves out of my hands. “Let me. Your arm won’t like the heat from the oven.” Damn, this man was thoughtful. The oven door creaked, and he pulled out my pretties. They smelled divine. “Blueberry muffins?” he asked, almost doubtful.

“What gave it away? The big, juicy blueberries stuck inside?” I poked his chest and giggled at his question. “You liked them so much last time, I thought I’d make them again.” My gasp was probably too loud as I said, “No, let them cool. You’ll burn yourself.” It was too late, though. He already stole one. The steam poured out as he mercilessly ripped off the top.

“That’s okay. Then you can rub burn cream all over me.” He chuckled and took a huge bite of piping hot muffin. “Mmm, delicious,” he said through a mouthful of muffin.

“You should really wait for them to cool off. They taste better,” I scolded him while he continued to chomp away.

“Impossible. They taste awesome right now. No way can they get any better.” He popped another piece into his mouth. Watching him chew was doing strange things to my lower lady region, so I decided to make him a plate to get my mind off that.