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He turned toward me. “What?”

“I just . . .” I took a breath, wondering if it was my place yet to comment on the way he lived his life. Aw, hell. Fuck it. “Maybe you can give yourself a break from time to time. I’m sure Ben knows you’re just a phone call away—hell, you’re literally hundreds of feet away. You could be there in an instant.”

I wanted to beg him to stay with me this weekend, not go into the bar, but that had to be his choice.

And in the next instant, he made it. “I do suppose I’ve earned the right to step away for a few days. I think this weekend with you is the perfect excuse.”

My heart fluttered in my chest. This man was choosing me, and I was going to revel in it.

“In fact . . .” I watched Henry pull his phone from the pocket of his hotter-than-sin light-gray sweatpants that hid absolutely nothing, tap on a number, and put it up to his ear.

“Hey, Ben? Good morning!” It was nearly eleven, but I supposed that still counted.

He was quiet for a moment as Ben responded.

“I was wondering if you could cover me at the bar for the next few days. I’m home, so I can come in if there’s an emergency, but—”

Ben must have cut him off.

Henry was grinning by the time the garbled voice on the other end stopped talking. “Thanks, man, I owe you. And remember, I’m just a phone call away. I can be there if you need me anytime.”

Another pause, and he chuckled.

“Got it. Thanks. Talk to you soon.”

He slid his phone back in his pocket, and I smirked at him. “He told you to leave him alone for the weekend, didn’t he?”

Henry tossed his head back and laughed. “How’d you guess?”

I shrugged, turning to finish up the spinach as he pulled a mixing bowl out from beneath the island and started cracking eggs into it. “Ben seems like a great guy. I figured he’d come to the same conclusion I did: You work too much.”

Henry’s cheeks reddened just a little, and my stomach flipped. He was my Daddy, but these little moments gave me a glimpse into his slight-but-definitely-there submissive side. I adored it. “You might be right.”

He whipped around to turn on a burner and pull a cast-iron skillet from underneath the counter on his right. Within minutes, the pat of butter he’d placed in it had melted, and omelet-making had commenced.

We worked amiably side by side as the eggs cooked. When they were nearly done, Henry added several crumbles of goat cheese to the middle, folded the eggs in on themselves, then browned up the outsides before plating them.

I was salivating as he handed me the omelets and nodded toward the small table that overlooked the backyard and porch. I carried our breakfast around the counter that bisected the space as he filled up glasses with orange juice then joined me at the table. Before he sat down, he tugged a couple of bananas from the bunch he had sitting in a basket next to the sink.

“This looks incredible, Henry. Are you trying to impress me with your cooking skills?”

His answering shit-eating grin was so goddamn sexy. He held his first bite of omelet in front of his mouth long enough to say “Maybe” before shoveling it in.

I chuckled as I tried the eggs. And I couldn’t help myself—I moaned as the flavors landed on my tastebuds. This was a simple omelet in actuality, but it was utterly delicious. “God, Henry. You don’t have to impress me, but this would if you did. Did you put fairy dust in here or something?”

He smiled sweetly at me and swallowed before answering. “Something like that. It’s pink, anyway.”

I cocked my head to one side, studying him, before I figured it out. “Himalayan pink sea salt?”

“Got it in one.”

I grinned back as I took a sip of my orange juice.

“Sorry I don’t have a fancier spread. Bananas are the only fruit I have in the house. I haven’t been to the grocery store yet this week.”

I eyed him. “Do you actually go to a grocery store and shop? You seem more like the type to order groceries and have them delivered. You know, because you’re always so busy at the bar.”

“Guilty.” He finished his omelet and swallowed the last of his orange juice. Then he reached for one of the bananas and peeled it open. “If you want to eat this weekend, we’ll need to procure groceries somehow. We can go out and shop if you’d prefer. Or have them delivered. Angel Baby’s choice.”