CHAPTER 24
A KNOCK AT the door woke me from my troubled sleep the next morning. Was that Mitch? Stupid question—who else would it have been? I desperately smoothed my hair down and prayed I didn’t look too much of a mess.
“You can come in.”
The door cracked open as I shuffled into a seated position and pulled the quilt up to my chin.
“I thought you might like coffee.” Mitch placed a steaming mug on the nightstand next to me.
How did he look so good at this time in the morning? I would scare small children, whereas he could have stepped into a photo shoot in his dark jeans and cashmere sweater. Even though his hair was a mess, it was a mess I itched to run my fingers through. And now he was sitting on my bed. I burned the image into my retinas in case I didn’t get to see it again.
“I’
