Eccles. He said the town was called Eccles.
I’ve never heard of it, but he did also say it was a shifter town. This just makes me even more curious and confused.
After a few minutes more of puzzling, I realize my eyelids are getting heavy and my muscles are slowly relaxing. My last clear thought is that it’s been a very long time since I felt this comfortable and safe.
***
When a faint clang wakes me several hours later, I sit up with a jolt, not immediately realizing where I am. A quick look around confirms I am still in Brad’s bedroom, and the clang was most likely him downstairs in the kitchen.
I stay perfectly still, waiting for confirmation of my thoughts. When I hear another clang and a faint sizzling, I’m satisfied it’s just Brad in the kitchen, and I’m still safe.
That’s definitely the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.
I shuffle to the bathroom and find a pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt waiting for me on the towel rack. They’re a little big, and obviously cast-offs from someone else, but they fit well enough. I clean myself up a bit, then head downstairs to meet Brad in the kitchen.
When I come through the door, he has his back to me, spatula raised high as his other hand jiggles the frying pan. He’s humming a silly little tune, and I pause in the doorway to watch him.
He’s wearing a very tight black T-shirt that shows off the muscles in his back and shoulders, as well as his slim waist. Even though his faded charcoal jeans aren’t quite that tight, they still show off his cute butt and sculpted legs.
He looks more like a dancer than a football player. Wrapped in muscles, but lean and lithe, not bulky.
A little smile creeps onto my face as I watch him humming and swaying, poking at the frying pan with the spatula.
I missed this. When he thinks no one’s watching, he vanishes into his own little world, and it’s fucking adorable.
With a little flourish, he turns to the side and starts loading bacon and eggs onto plates. He finally notices me and jumps a little, and I try to hide my smile.
“Oh! Alisha. Good morning.”
“Hi,” I answer, pressing my lips together and looking away.
I will not smile! He’s not that fucking cute!
Who am I kidding? He’s fucking smoking.
“You still like bacon and egg wraps?” he asks, turning to put the frying pan back and fuss with the plates.
“Yeah.”
“Cool. There’s coffee there on the table.”
I pour myself a cup, and by the time I sit down, Brad is putting a plate down in front of me—a thick toasty wrap stuffed with crispy bacon, perfectly cooked egg, caramelized onions, and drizzles of barbecue sauce.
“Thank you,” I mutter, trying not to moan with satisfaction.
It’s been so long since I had a decent meal, and this is my favorite breakfast in the whole fucking world!
“I gave you extra onions and a good sprinkle of black pepper. Just how you like it.”
I nod, trying not to look up at him. To save myself from saying something I might regret, I take a big bite of the breakfast wrap and stifle another moan.
Jesus fucking Christ, this boy can cook!
“I see you found the clothes I left.”
I nod and make a small affirmative hum.
“We can pick up some stuff for you today, if you like. I have to go into a meeting.”
