Page 23 of His Surrender

Without thinking, I stand and pour myself another cup.

She glances over her shoulder, one eyebrow lifting. “Is that your second cup?”

I look down into my mug. “I think so.”

“You think so?”

“I haven’t really paid attention.”

A laugh slips from her as she cracks another egg into the skillet.

I lean against the island, Liana still happily drinking her bottle in my arms.

“I usually have three every morning.”

“Usually?”

“Sometimes four.”

Her eyes widen. “Before lunch?”

“It depends on the day.”

She shakes her head, trying to hide a smile. “I’d be vibrating.”

“I’ve built up a tolerance.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve built up a dependency.”

“I prefer to think of it as a healthy working relationship.”

She laughs again, and I realize it might be the first genuine, unfiltered laugh I’ve heard inside this apartment in a long time.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says.

“I’m listening.”

“You eat an actual breakfast before you refill that mug again.”

I glance at the coffeepot, then at the plate she’s putting together.

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“It’s eggs and bacon, Dean. Not a hostage negotiation.”

“I’ve skipped breakfast for years.”

She pauses what she’s doing long enough to look at me. “Why?”

“I’ve never been hungry in the morning.”

“No,” she says thoughtfully. “You’ve never made time.”

Her words catch me off guard.

She’s right.

For years, my mornings have been nothing more than coffee, emails, conference calls, and whatever breakfast meeting Brady managed to squeeze into my calendar.