She laughs as soon as she sees me. “Well, aren’t we adorable? Twins!”
I look down and realize we’re both wearing slate-blue bottoms and white tops. I chuckle and get up to give her a hug.
Then I stop myself.
Are we even on hugging terms?
I fold my arms when I get to her and give her a once-over that feels both too much and too little.
“I don’t think I like you thinking of me in that way.”
She scrunches her nose and laughs again. “Good point. In that case, we coordinate, and I love it.”
She reaches up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek, and it’s everything I can do not to close my eyes and wince in pain.
Then she gets back down, and her cheeks are flushed a deep, rosy pink. “Sorry. I’m not sure what came over me.”
“It’s okay,” I say stupidly. “I’m hard to resist,” I add, even stupider.
But she’s laughing, and then she pats my chest. “You’re not wrong.”
I smile but don’t say anything else. In fact, I just stand there, smiling at her while she stands a foot away, smiling at me.
Great. Anytime things get awkward, we can smile each other to death.
“It looks like we both had the same idea to go for a run. Or do you go to a gym?” she asks. And then her eyes widen. “Wait, this is the morning after our wedding. If we go for a run at six in the morning, people are going to think something’s suspicious.”
Shoot. She’s right.
“In that case, let’s have a bit more of a traditional wedding morning,” I say. Her eyes widen. “Notthatkind of traditional. More breakfast and stuff.” I don’t remember the last time I blushed, but I feel like my cheeks have been roasted over a campfire.
Kayla’s face is in her hands as she laughs. But my ring is on her finger, and the sight fills me with an ache I don’t want to think about.
“Let me try that again,” I say. “Kayla, can I make you breakfast? Then maybe we could … strategize before you have your meeting with the town council.”
“Strategize? You have to know I find business jargon very attractive, so if you’re trying to seduce me, Captain?—”
“Stop,” I chuckle. “Come into the kitchen and I’ll make you breakfast, Boss.”
Kayla follows me.
My kitchen is small but well-stocked. I’m not the kind of bachelor who sits around crushing protein shakes and pizza all day. I like to cook, and I’m careful about what I put in my body. I’m usually more casual during the off season, but with radio silence from the Arsenal about a contract next year, I’ll keep it up a little longer. And if it means Kayla might try to sneak a peek at me shirtless at some point, I may keep it up forever.
“What do you like? I could make omelets, crepes, pancakes, oatmeal. I’ve got berries, spinach, ham.”
Kayla appears next to me at the fridge. “Did you buy all of this for me?”
“Sorry, I should have asked you what you eat so I could stock it with your favorites, not mine.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m impressed you have real food on hand. I think my brothers subsist on protein shakes and Cheetos when they’re not on a date.”
“Is your family going to be in town for long? I’d like to get to know them,” I say.
“Uh, no. It was an in-and-out trip. They have meetings tomorrow in Zurich, so they’re probably already on a plane.”
The alarm on my fridge goes off, signaling it’s been open for too long.
“Sorry, how about an omelet and crepes?” I supply, because something tells me Kayla isn’t going to make a decision on food. I could be wrong, but I think when she doesn’t want to commit to an idea, she changes the subject with an observation.
