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“That’s good.”
“Yeah. And I asked a friend to pick me up in Green Bay, so I ought to be able to get to Manitowoc. I guess I’ll figure out the rest from there—new driver’s license and all that.”
“You can stay at your parents’ place, even with them not home?”
“I have a house in Manitowoc,” she said. “But I won’t stick around long. I’ll head up to the cabin and, you know … hide for a few days. Hope the world forgets about The Forking and the guy who stole my phone doesn’t use the numbers in it to hound everyone I know for quotes. Until Tuesday, when I have to be home anyway, because Allie—that’s my sister—is getting married next weekend, and we have a ton of stuff to do for that.”
“Sounds like a plan, if you can just get out of Manhattan.”
“Yep.”
He glazed the walnuts with sugar, plated the toast, ladled apples over the top, tipped the walnuts on while they were still sizzling, and dusted everything with powdered sugar. May’s mouth fell open when he set her plate in front of her. “You want whipped cream?”
“Um, sure.”
He found a whisk and the copper bowl and pulled maple syrup from the cabinet and whipping cream out of the fridge. When he poured it into a bowl and added maple syrup, she said, “You’re going to whip it by hand?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
She watched him do it, which made him antsy. Was this weird? He supposed most people whipped cream with a mixer.
They were so fucking loud, though, and it didn’t take long to whip a quarter cup of cream. When it stiffened, he divided it up and put a dollop on top of each piece of toast.
“Wow,” she said. “If this is you throwing together breakfast, I’d hate to see you going to the trouble of making a fancy meal.”
“I take food seriously.”
“No kidding.”
He cut his toast with a fork, standing on the kitchen side of the counter opposite her because there wasn’t much room for them to sit side by side, even if there were two stools.
Not, he told himself firmly, because you get off on watching her eat.
But there wasn’t much point in kidding himself. She honest-to-God moaned when she put the first bite in her mouth, and enough blood rushed to his groin to make him uncomfortable.
She’s not for you, he told his dick. Knock that shit off.
“That was so good,” she said when she’d finished. “Thank you.”
“You want another piece?”
“I couldn’t. Two was plenty.”
“You sure?” She didn’t sound like she meant it. “There’s one more in the skillet.”
“Aren’t you going to eat it?”
“Nah. I can’t eat too much sweet stuff in the morning. Makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Okay.”
She sat up very straight, extending her plate forward eagerly, and he put the toast on it. “Apples, too?”
“Oh yes.”
