Chapter Eighteen
Tiffany
I OPENED MY eyes the next morning and sat up quickly, images from the night before flashing in my head.
Ransom.
Looking around the bedroom, I sighed with relief. His clothes were still on the floor. He hadn’t bolted, and I hoped it was a sign that he didn’t regret what had happened.
I grabbed a short, pink terrycloth robe, and walked out to the kitchen, where he stood in his boxers, bent down, and searching inside of my refrigerator.
“What are you doing?” I asked, coming up behind him.
“Well, I was going to surprise you with breakfast, but your refrigerator is empty, Taffy,” he said, standing up.
I moved around him and looked inside. I smiled. “What, you don’t like yogurt, turkey bacon, or bran muffins?”
“Sorry, I hate Greek yogurt, turkey bacon has no tas
