Page 160 of Worth the Trip

I opened the refrigerator. “Storm washed the drama out of it.”

“You say that like the lake was performing.”

“It had an audience.”

She looked over her shoulder.

I looked right back.

“You believe everything behaves differently when you’re watching.”

“Nah, love. Just beautiful things.”

That one got a pause.

I let her have it.

The refrigerator gave me eggs, berries, turkey sausage, and bread. Good enough. I set a skillet on the stove while Nolani wandered toward the coffee machine.

“You still take it black?”

“Always.”

She looked at me. “Of course you do.”

“What that mean?”

“Your coffee has the same emotional presentation as your wardrobe.”

I looked down at my gray sweats. “My wardrobe relaxed.”

“Your closet is black, white, gray, or some other color afraid of joy.”

“That cream dress yesterday found plenty joy in my presence.”

She paused over the coffee filters.

I grinned.

“You’re awfully bold for a man expecting me to prepare his beverage.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything. I was gonna make it.”

“Sit down then.”

I crossed toward her and reached around for the grounds, letting my chest brush her back. “I’m cooking. You can make the coffee if you want.”

She turned her face toward mine. “That easy?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not going to analyze my motives?”

“Nope.”

“Question whether I’m overfunctioning?”

“No.”