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He groans into the back of my neck at the same time as he finishes, too.
He slaps my ass then. “I’m making breakfast,” he tells me. “Any requests?”
This is a surprise.
“Anything,” I whisper. “Everything. I’m starved.”
“Everything breakfast coming up.” He kisses the back of my shoulder and crawls backwards off me.
I stay on my stomach and just process for a few minutes until I smell bacon cooking.
I get up, get dressed in a pretty pink top with a pair of black skinny jeans, and then brush my hair before I join him.
He’s wearing basketball shorts and nothing else. And they sit low on his sexy hips. He’s got tongs in his hand and there’s bacon frying. He smiles then starts twirling a whisk in a glass bowl of batter. He’s whipping up some batter.
“Pancakes?” I ask.
“Bacon pancakes,” he says.
“Spider pancakes? Bleck.”
He shakes his head with confusion. “Spider pancakes?”
“Gramma was in that.” I screw up my face.
“It’s been washed,” he rolls his eyes. “Not spider pancakes. Bacon pancakes.”
“Bacon and pancakes? Yum.”
“Nope. Not bacon and pancakes, bacon pancakes. You’ll see. Trust me. I’m gonna rock your breakfast world in a few minutes.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
Man, he’s gorgeous. And I love how playful and happy he seems right now.
He says his life is complicated, but he’s not pulling away from me. In fact, it’s like he’s doing the opposite and maybe it’s because I’m not complicating it further right now by asking him a million questions. I decide not to worry about anything right now, just to enjoy breakfast with Austin.
***
“These are incredible,” I say, moaning. “This everything breakfast is everything. Every. Thing.”
Austin’s bacon pancakes are literally bacon pancakes. He cooked bacon and then dipped it in pancake batter before frying again and the result is a long, skinny pancake with bacon in the middle.
“This is the best invention, ever,” I say before I dunk a bacon pancake in the puddle of maple syrup on my plate and take another bite.
He beams a smile at me.
He’s also made us some scrambled eggs and they’re fluffy and delicious. And there’s even toast.
“So, you can cook,” I say.
“I can make breakfast, blend a bad-ass smoothie, and I can grill. Anything else it’ll be hit or miss.”
I chuckle and sip my coffee.
He takes a bite of toast and my face burns with embarrassment as I remember the second chapter and the burnt toast scene. I couldn’t believe I wrote it when I first read it back to myself and now I can’t believe that he’s actually read it, too.
“What’s on your schedule today?” he asks.
“I’m supposed to visit my brother this afternoon, but after that, not a thing.”
“You wanna go to a movie tonight?”
“Yeah. Sure,” I say, smiling.
He returns the smile before he takes a bite of scrambled eggs, but then his phone rings from the other side of the counter.
As he slides it over I catch sight of the screen.
Sienna Greer Calling
Eeks.
The mystery redheaded woman from Austin’s office and that used to be in Aiden’s photo albums. After what that Taylor woman said at the restaurant last night, now she has a name. And maybe a baby Austin in her belly?
“What?” he answers angrily, heading down. I hear his door close.
I stuff one more bacon pancake in my mouth before I tackle the dishes, but then there’s shouting coming from down the hall.
When I turn the tap off, I hear “…and your fucking head games!”
I don’t want to eavesdrop, so I turn the water back on.
If he wants to talk to me, he’ll talk to me.
A few minutes later, he’s back with me.
“Sorry to leave you with the mess,” he says.
“That’s okay, I’m paid to clean up your mess and you’re thankfully not a messy person.”
“It’s the weekend, you don’t have to work on the weekend,” he clips with impatience.
“It doesn’t feel like work. It feels like just helping - cleaning up after a delicious breakfast I didn’t have to cook,” I say with a smile.
He thrusts his hand through the flop of hair falling into his eyes and shakes his head.
“You okay?” I ask.
He comes up behind me and snakes his arms around my waist, burying his nose in my hair.
“Wanna talk?” I ask. “I saw the name on the screen and I’m guessing I know who she is now after what happened last night.”
“No,” he whispers, “Is that okay?”
I nod, but my chest hurts a little.
My reward is him squeezing me tighter.
“What movie do you wanna see tonight?” I ask, turning the tap off and drying my hands on a tea towel. He’s still holding me from behind.
“Something with blood. And murder,” he grumbles into the top of my head.
I laugh.
He turns me to face him, then takes my face into his hands. “You’re a breath of fresh air, Jada Sweetheart.”
I smile. And the pain in my chest evaporates, because as long as he looks at me like this, like I send his troubles away, I’m going to do my best to be okay with not talking about whatever had him shouting on the phone with her. “You’re not so bad yourself, Sir Groucho.”
