Page 78 of Long Story Short

I laugh and shake my head before pushing off the counter and stepping closer to him.

“You did great last night. No smoke or burning then either.”

“Believe it or not, I can cook,” he notes. “I just left the terrible impression that I couldn’t the first time.”

I smile before I lean my hip against the island and watch him plate the food. He made scrambled eggs just the way I like them—extra cheesy—something I told him about yesterday at brunch, and he remembered. There’s also bacon, toast, and fruit. I don’t know how long I was asleep, but clearly long enough for him to make a full breakfast.

He sets the plate down in front of me like it’s the most simple thing in the world for him to do, but it isn’t. It matters. It matters to me, a lot.

“Thank you,” I get out, my voice soft.

He shrugs, but his eyes flick to the fridge for a moment before he walks over and opens it. “Check what’s inside,” he commands, his voice low and gentle. I follow his gaze until I see it.

A coffee cup. The same to-go coffee from yesterday. The exact one I loved from the local spot here in town.

My heart flips in a way I wasn’t expecting. “You didn’t…” I trail off, taking the cup from him when he hands it to me.

“I got it delivered,” he offers, as if that makes it mean less. It doesn’t. “I figured you’d want that same coffee again this morning,” he continues.

Something about him knowing what I’d want without having to ask me makes my entire body feel warm with a new, unfamiliar feeling.

“Tyson,” I mutter, not knowing what to say. “Thank you,” I hurriedly get out, realizing that thank you is the first thing I should be saying to him. It’s so thoughtful that my chest tightens. To him, it might just be a coffee, but to me, it means more.

He gives me another shrug as if it shouldn’t mean much. “I guessed you were going to go get it anyway, so I decided to make it easy and order for you instead.”

He isn’t wrong. That honey latte was the best coffee I ever had, and I was fully planning on getting it again today, but that doesn’t mean I expected him to be the one to do it.

Tyson gestures for me to take a seat, and I do, giving him a smile as he holds the counter stool out for me before pushing me in. He takes the seat next to mine, and we fall into a quiet rhythm. We eat and sip our coffees—he has just a hot cup from the pot in his kitchen. It feels incredibly normal to do this with him. Like it’s something we do all the time.

I finish taking a drink as my gaze finds his. “I’m going to write today,” I offer.

His gaze lifts immediately to find mine, the whisper of a smirk on his lips. “Yeah?”

I nod as I rub my lips together in an attempt to fight my own smile. “Yep. I feel different after last night. Inspired in a whole new way. Like I finally realize what I’ve been missing.”

He stares at me, his lips spreading even wider. I love how freely he smiles around me now. Gone are the days of careful, neutral expressions where I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He wears it all on his face with me, something I cherish even more now after his confession last night. “I’m glad,” he finally responds. He reaches across the space between us and lets his hand settle against the top of my thigh. He holds it there as he takes another bite of his food.

I look at him for a few moments longer before glancing down at my coffee. “I’ll spend the morning and afternoon writing before heading into the city to see my grandfather tonight.”

Something flickers across his face—subtle, but there. Concern. “Everything okay?” he asks.

I nod quickly. “Yeah, I was going to tell you I was heading to Manhattan. It’s just one of our weekly dinners. I can’t wait to see him. I haven’t been back since I got out here.”

“I think that’ll be good for you,” Tyson responds, squeezing my thigh.

“Yeah, I’m excited. What are your plans for the day?”

Tyson’s jaw tenses for a moment before his features soften. “Just some work, and my sister will be coming by at some point to talk about the renovations.”

We fall into normal conversation as we finish eating. Time goes by too fast, and before I know it, I’m standing at the front door—still wearing his shirt and briefs—about to make the short walk over to my house.

We stare at each other in the entryway, neither one of us making any move to go. I want to stay with him, but I need to get back to the house and check on Mouse before getting some writing in today.

“How long will you be in the city?” Tyson asks. He reaches up and dusts his fingers along my cheekbone, his gaze trailing over me.

“I’ll probably stay with Pop tonight and then come back tomorrow. It kind of depends on the jet’s schedule.”

Tyson smiles. “Well, let me know if you need to use mine.”