Stevie-lou’s POV.

"I’m not going in today."

Confusion stunned my brain. "What?"

"Work can wait," Smith said casually, walking to the closet and pulling out a clean t-shirt. "I’ve got more important things to do."

I sat there, still trying to function. "You don’t skip work. You’re Smith Hart. You’re like... a robot with a billion-dollar bank account."

He pulled the shirt over his head and looked at me, brow slightly raised. "You always this flattering in the morning?"

I squinted at him. "You’re really not going in?"

"Nope. You’re hungover and recovering, and frankly, I want to spend some time with you."

He said it so simply, like he...