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“Makes sense to me. I couldn’t sit still in school. Don’t know how I made it through high school. Unlike this guy.” He gestured to Colt.
I looked at Colt. “You did well in school?”
“I did okay,” he replied.
“Yeah, if you call Valedictorian okay. He’s got a photographic memory. It’s easy for him. Had a free ride to University of Edinburgh and turned it down so he could work with his hands. He can put an engine together faster than anyone. He’s just good at everything. One ofthoseguys.”
Colt’s face was passive, but I saw the tick in his jaw. Finally, he seemed to unfreeze and then he shrugged. “Mom wanted me to go to college, but I didn’t care that much about a degree.” He pinned me with a stare. “You plan on going back and finishing yours? Seems a waste not to finish if you’re only a semester away.”
“Eventually. When things calm down, I think.”
“Why’d you drop out in the first place?” Zip asked. “When you were so close to finishing.”
I looked down at my yogurt when I answered, “Because my grandmother got sick and I dropped out to take care of her.” I coughed. “I only have some basic requirements left, actually. Shouldn’t be that hard.”
I chucked my empty yogurt container into the trash and said, “That was a joke of a breakfast. What does a girl have to do to get a real meal around here?”
“I’m gonna run,” Zip said, standing up from his chair. “Mia, ask Colt to make you eggs.” He slapped Colt on the back in a show of male affection.
“You don’t want to stay and eat all my food?” Colt asked with a wry grin.
“Nah. I’ll leave that to Mia. Something tells me she’s got a healthy appetite.” He winked at me.
“Subtle,” I muttered, my cheeks flaming.
Zip laughed and then left the kitchen. A moment later, I heard the front door closing. Colt and I were alone.
“How do you want your eggs?” Colt asked as he stood.
“You don’t have to make me breakfast. I can have cereal or something.”
He sighed. “Babe. Eggs?”
“Poached, please.”
“Good choice. I make damn fine poached eggs.”
He got out all the breakfast fixings and then filled a pot with a few inches of water. I sat at the kitchen table and sipped my lukewarm coffee. There was something really sexy about a big, tatted, muscled biker making me food. Sure he was cooking because one of my wrists was injured, but the fact that he knew his way around the kitchen made him irresistible.
“Did you learn how to cook from your mom?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah. She was a dynamite cook.” He threw me a grin over his shoulder. It was open, natural, and came easily. “She used to be in charge of all the Blue Angel barbeques and potlucks.”
He shook his head and turned back to the stove. “Deviled eggs.”
“Huh?”
“Her deviled eggs were fucking delicious.” He cracked an egg on the side of the pot and gently eased it into the water, not breaking the yoke. “What about you? Do you cook?”
“I can. I don’t usually though. I’ve been living off of takeout for a while. My best friend is worried I’m not getting my veggies.”
He chuckled. “Why haven’t you been cooking? Too busy?”
“No busier than anyone else, I guess. It was just something Grammie and I used to do together, you know?”
“And she’s not here anymore and you don’t want the memories.”
I paused and then admitted, “Exactly.”
