“No,” she says,shaking her head. “I appreciate it, but my kitchen is kind of my thing. You gosit down. Coffee is over there.” With her spatula, she points to the coffee poton the counter. I make a cup and then sit across from her at the tiny bar.Alexa is absolutely stunning. Even this early in the morning, and she’s still agoddess. Her long hair shines in the sunlight filtering in from the windows.Her curvy body looks absolutely amazing in those tight clothes. I watch herwhile she cooks and see the passion she puts into the work she does. Her handsmove over the food like an artist creating a painting. Everything she puts intoher cooking is done with love and skill.
“When does thebakery open?” I ask.
“Two hours ago,”she says. “I asked Livi and Keesha to run it for me today.” She puts anotherpiece of bacon on the frying pan. “Is that okay?”
“It’s perfect,” Isay. “I actually called in sick to work.”
She grins. “Weprobably shouldn’t make this a habit.”
I shrug. “I say wequit our jobs and spend the rest of our lives snuggled up in bed.”
She laughs andtakes a sip of her coffee. Her mug is hot pink and saysbakers do it better. “That’s not very practical.”
“I know, but let medaydream,” I say.
I offer to help hercook breakfast again, but she declines. She says all I need to do is bring myappetite. When she’s finished, I pile my plate high with pancakes, eggs, and bacon,and she puts some music on that plays through speakers in every corner of theroom.
“This is the mostamazing pancake I’ve ever had,” I say over a bite of fluffy deliciousness.
“Baker’s secret,”she says with a wink. “My mom taught me the trick to fluffy pancakes and I’venever seen anyone else know how to do it.”
I take anotherbite. “I’m pretty sure they make the pancakes this way in heaven.”
Her smile softens alittle. She glances up as if she’s remembering something, but she doesn’t tellme what it is. Soon the moment passes, and we’re back to talking about any andeverything. She’s the easiest person to talk to. I’m never bored, and I’malways happy when we’re sharing thoughts with each other.
I love hearing herstories about the bakery and listening to tales of her life. She’s like afascinating puzzle and each new piece I find gives me something more to likeabout her.
After breakfast, Iinsist on washing the dishes and she takes my place at the bar and watches mework. When the dishes are done, I look up at her. “I want to kiss you so bad.”
“So what are youwaiting for?” she says sarcastically.
I flick some dishsoap suds at her. “I haven’t brushed my teeth, so I’m feeling pretty gross.”
“There’s extratoothbrushes in the bathroom,” she says. “I already picked one out for you.It’s blue.”
“You think ofeverything,” I say.
She shrugs oneshoulder. “What can I say? I’m perfect.”
I dry my hands on adishtowel. “Yes, yes you are.”
In the bathroom,there’s a new toothbrush and travel sized toothpaste laid out for me. Alexa isthe sweetest thing ever. I brush my teeth and fix my hair in the mirror. Idon’t know what the day holds, and I should probably go home and change clothessoon, but I’m excited to spend more time with her.
“You know what Ineed?” I ask as I walk back into the kitchen. Alexa is standing at the counterpouring another cup of coffee. She looks up at me expectantly. “Your number,” Isay. “I don’t want to lose contact with you again.”
Her eyes sparkle,and she reaches for her phone off the counter. “What’s your number? I’ll callyou.”
“You should text meinstead,” I say. “I’m pretty sure my phone is dead and left somewhere on yourcouch.”
I give her mynumber and she holds out her phone, takes a picture of us, and then sends it tome. “Do you want to charge your phone?” she asks.
I shake my head.“The only person I want to talk to is here.”
“So,” she sayssoftly. She cups her coffee mug in both hands and brings it up to her lips.“How are we going to make this work? You know… living forty five minutes awayand all.”
I shrug. “It’s notthat far. I’ll come see you every day after work. You know, unless you getbored of me.”
“That’s too muchdriving,” she says, curling her nose. “You’ll get sick of it.”
