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“Do you think you could handle some food?”
She made a face and started shaking her head, but her stomach protested, gurgling loudly.
“That’s humiliating,” she said, crestfallen.
“Nah. You should hear mine after a full day of training. You’d think there was a family of angry bears in it.” He filled a cup of coffee for her before the pot was done brewing and passed her the steaming mug. “No sugar or milk. Black is best for what’s going on in there.” He tapped her forehead and smiled. “Trust me.”
“You’re an expert on dealing with hangovers?”
“I’ve had one or two in my time. Champagne is the worst, but beer and shots aren’t a cakewalk by any means. I’ve been on the receiving end of an Alex-sponsored drink-a-thon before. I know what you’re going through.” A wink, not unlike the one he’d given her during the previous evening’s game, showed he wasn’t judging her for getting her drink on.
Sometimes you just had to do it, and if Emmy had felt like finding some solace at the bottom of a bottle with Tucker’s best friend by her side, well, she wouldn’t be the only person in this room who had done it.
Emmy accepted him at his word and drank back a big mouthful of coffee. She winced at the bitterness—he tended to use a darker roast espresso—but took another sip as soon as it was done. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Now let’s get some food in you.”
“And maybe you can tell me how I ended up here?”
“Maybe.” Tucker went to the fridge and pulled out eggs, cheese and butter, then grabbed a loaf of rye bread from the pantry and set about making breakfast as if the woman of his dreams wasn’t six feet away watching his every move.
He used a glass to cut holes out of the middle of each slice of bread, then buttered the slice and threw it in a hot pan. While the butter sizzled, he cracked one egg into each of the bread holes, and once he’d flipped it, sprinkled the shredded cheddar cheese over each piece. The kitchen smelled warmer when he was done, like toast and pizza. He presented Emmy a clean white plate with two slices, then put the remaining three on his own plate.
“I’ve never seen Toad in a Hole made with cheese before,” she remarked.
“Then you haven’t seen it made right before. And it’s called eggs in a basket.”
She had another big gulp of coffee, the green-gray tone of her skin becoming rosier and more healthy by the minute. Balancing the plate on her knees rather than turning her back to him, she used the side of the fork he’d given her to break apart the bread, letting the gooey yellow center of the egg yolk seep out onto her plate. She proceeded to drag her toast bite through the yolk before popping it in her mouth.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman make such a big show of eating before, and it made him sad for all the women he’d shared meals with in the past. Emmy made a satisfied groan, and the sound went straight from his ears to his groin, bringing to mind a dozen other ways he might get her to make that sound again.
“This is perfection,” she said between mouthfuls. “I didn’t think I could eat anything, but this is amazing.”
“Now you’re overselling it. I make it okay, but you should try my sister’s. Damn. You only think this is good because your stomach is loving you for all the butter and bread.”
“I don’t care why I think it’s good. It’s delicious. End of story.”
He laughed. “Far be it for me to argue. If you think it’s the best thing since sliced bread, I will take the compliment and run with it.”
“As you should.” She popped another bite into her mouth and smiled at him, all the self-doubting shyness of earlier gone, replaced with the smart-mouthed woman he knew.
Tucker poured his own coffee and waited for her to finish what was on her plate before he said the words that would doubtlessly make her attitude darken again.
“So…last night.”
“Ah.” She set her mug on the counter and steeled herself for his answer. “What happened?”
“Alex texted me while you two were at the bar.”
“You were who he couldn’t stop sending messages to? I was sure there was some hot booty call he couldn’t wait to ditch me for.”
“Nope, this time it was only me. On a non-work day you might have caught him hitting up the little black book, but he has a strict self-imposed curfew on game nights. He’ll drink himself silly, but he always goes home to his own bed.”
“Well…I guess that’s something.”
“It’s the best you’ll get from Alex.”
“I’m just the trainer, I’m not going to judge what he does in his spare time.” She traced her finger on the lip of the coffee mug. “That still doesn’t explain how I ended up here.”
