The pantry and fridge provide me with everything I need except for cranberries, but he has bananas as a substitute. I set the coffee to brew before I mash, stir, and measure, enjoyingthe simple rhythm of preparing breakfast. The scent of sugar and vanilla fills the air as the oven warms the room. While the muffins bake, I pour myself a mug of coffee and then settle at the table. The wooden sign I was painting the other night still waits there, half-finished. I dip my brush and start working, losing track of time until the timer dings.
Pulling the muffins from the oven, I set the pan on the stove just as footsteps shuffle down the hall. Jordan appears, still half asleep, wearing nothing but boxer briefs and a lazy smile.
“What’s that incredible smell?” he asks, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
“Banana muffins.”
“Why’d you let me sleep so long? I wanted to help.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, you did.” He kisses the side of my neck. “Give me a second. I’ll grab my shirt, and we can eat.”
“Don’t put one on for me,” I tease.
He chuckles. “My mom drilled into us to never come to the table bare-chested. She said it was rude and showed a lack of manners.” He disappears down the hall, calling back, “So now I don’t.” When he returns, tugging a t-shirt over his abs, he grins at the golden muffins cooling on the stove. “You know, if you keep this up, I might start thinking you’re trying to domesticate me.”
“You? The hottest bachelor in Havenport?” I arch a brow.
He smirks. “Can I tell Reed you said that?”
“Nope.”
He laughs, leaning closer to the muffins. “They look so good. I can wait to bite into one—or ten.”
“I still need to remove them from the pan.”
A sudden knock rattles the front door. Both of us freeze.
Jordan groans. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Are you expecting anyone?”
“No,” he mutters, raking a hand through his hair. “But considering my family lives right next door, that doesn’t mean much.
The knock comes again, louder this time, followed by a fist pounding on the door.
He exhales sharply. “Reed’s the only one who’d show up on a weekend before nine.”
My heart jumps. “What do I do?”
“Hide,” he says, already moving toward the door.
“Where?”
He points down the hallway. “Spare room. Go.”
I dart out of sight before he opens the door.
CHAPTER 18
JORDAN
When I open the door, Reed’s on the other side, as I suspected.
“Morning, brother,” he says.
“What’s up?”
