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I roll off the bed and pull on a pair of leggings and a shirt. Archer’s eyelids don’t so much as flinch. Closing my bedroom door behind me, I slip into the hallway and follow the heavenly smell of coffee to the kitchen.
My sister is at the table, writing in her stained and battered recipe journal. “Well-loved,” she calls it. A plate of food is next to her left elbow. I grab a mug and pour my coffee before going to the fridge to add a splash of whole milk.
“Spinach and bacon crepes with hollandaise sauce,” she announces. She slices into the stack of rolled crepes with a fork, making sure to stab a fat mushroom. She then dunks it into the hollandaise before offering it to me.
I take the offered bite, expecting perfection. I’m not disappointed. “Wow,” I say as flavors burst on my tongue. “That’s amazing.”
“Too much thyme?”
I swallow, swirl my tongue around my cheek, and seriously consider her question. “Maybe a touch more pepper, but other than that, it’s perfect.”
She jots down my suggestion and drops her pen. “I’m making apple-cinnamon crepes next.” She hops up and moves around the kitchen, where bowls and pans litter every surface from counter to stove. A typical picture in our kitchen.
“He wants me to come with him to Ohio.” I sit and fork another delectable bite into my mouth. We talked about Archer asking me to advise him on his new spa last night, but I didn’t mention me moving. “Temporarily. Until the spa opens.”
“Really.” She cracks an egg on the side of a bowl and sends me a bemused look.
“Am I crazy?” I wrinkle my nose, unsure.
“With my track record, you’re asking me? I bailed on you to move in with Ryan.” She makes a face. We both know how that turned out. Not well. “You moving in with Archer doesn’t sound as crazy as it should.”
“I wouldn’t be living with him. He offered me the townhouse next door. It’s a separate space. And he’s providing it free of charge. I’ll still pay rent here, though. I won’t leave you in a lurch.”
“I can handle rent for a month without your help, Talia.” She cracks another egg into the batter and whisks. Neither of us intended on leaning so hard on each other. But after Brandon and I incinerated, Lis and I realized that the best roommate to have was one without a penis. They’re too much responsibility. And yes, I’m talking about the penises.
Eyes on my empty fork, I ask, “What if I told you I’d be there for two or three months?”
The whisk halts for a second before starting up again.
“I don’t want you to worry about making the bills after I irresponsibly quit my job. Plus, Archer said I can name my price for the contract.”
“You weren’t being irresponsible. You were standing up for yourself.” She tsks. “What’s the going rate for consulting, anyway?”
“If I charged what he charged, astronomical. I’m not sure I’m worth it, though.”
Heavy steps approach from the hallway. Archer appears, his hair rumpled from sleep, no shirt, his pants hanging low on his hips. He nods at me and then my sister. “Ladies.”
Oh, his voice in the morning is very, very nice. Low and throaty. I hum against the rim of my coffee mug and hope no one notices.
“Mind if I grab a shower? I didn’t want to take up the bathroom if one of you needed to be somewhere.”
And he’s thoughtful, folks. His gaze heats when it hits mine. Tingles work their way from my arms to my chest, where they bloom into a solar flare.
“Help yourself. When you’re done, crepes,” Calista informs him cheerily.
“I, uh, I’ll be taking off soon, so that won’t be necessary. I will take a cup of coffee, though.”
“Your loss,” my sister says. “My crepes are legendary.”
“Mushroom and bacon with hollandaise sauce.” I scoop up another bite for myself, fervently ignoring the urge to ask where he’s going. A hotel? Or is he flying back to Ohio with or without me? It seems like something I should know about the man I had sex with three times in one night.
“I won’t be long.” He disappears down the hallway.
“Well?” My sister points in his direction with her dripping whisk. She adds a pat of butter to the hot skillet on the stove, ladles in the crepe batter, and then lifts the pan to swirl it so it covers the surface.
“Well what?”
“Are you going to join him?”
Distracted by the smell of warm butter, I ask, “In Ohio?”
“In the shower. You can wash his back.” When I hesitate, she shrugs. “If you don’t, I will.”
I can’t help it. I burst out laughing.
