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When Skylar awokein the morning, Julian was still there. She could hear him in the kitchen, rattling around with her pots and pans. After putting on a white chenille robe and quickly brushing her teeth and hair, she walked into the kitchen to find Julian making pancakes at her stove, whistling to himself.
“Where did you find pancake mix?”
He grinned. “You had flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar. That is pancake mix. Add in some milk, an egg, and butter, and voila, pancakes.”
“Oh.” She slipped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his back. “Good morning,” she said. “Did you sleep well?”
“Sweetheart, I slept like a dream. How could I not, with you in my arms? Now, I have a huge question for you. And it’s important.”
She backed up, worry chasing away her earlier joy. This sounded serious. They’d discussed some heavy shit the night before. Was he regretting sharing with her the way he had? “And that is . . . ?”
He turned around and gave her a goofy grin. Holding up a spatula, he said, “Giraffe or elephant?”
She tilted her head and looked at him quizzically. “What are you talking about? “
He pointed to the plate of already-made pancakes. But these were no ordinary pancakes. He’d already made a lion, a tiger, a zebra, and a hippo.
“Oh my gosh!” She giggled. “You are certainly a man of many talents.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Hopefully, my talent with my tongue, not to mention my larger appendage, has impressed you more than my culinary abilities.”
“Speaking of larger appendages . . . ” She smacked him on the bottom. “I’ll take an elephant.”
As he returned to the skillet, she looked around. It seemed as though he had made himself completely at home in her kitchen and even had figured out her printer. Numerous pages were strewn across her kitchen counter with scribbles all over them. “What is this?” she asked, pointing to the papers.
“Hope you don’t mind, but I made use of your printer. Those are outlines for the Hardy Priese story.”
“Of course, you can use my printer. You can use whatever you need here. Make yourself at home.”
“I will.”
The exchange caused her to worry for a second—how was it possible to be this happy and not expect that it would all come tumbling down. But that was her past trauma talking. The same past trauma that had caused Julian to close off his heart. But they were both working hard to get past that. Or at least, if not past it, to manage it in a healthy way.
“Skylar?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t be afraid. I want what I think we both want. I want a real shot with each other.”
“You do?” She blinked back tears.
He nodded, the charming, cocky grin gone, replaced with something deep and real. “Yes. I think we deserve to giveusa shot. And to do that, I’m giving up escort work. Forever. Give me a chance to prove I’m yours, Skylar.”
Her heart chugged in her chest, revved up on high. He meant what he was saying. He would walk away from his past to have this—her, Julian, a lazy Saturday morning with zoo creature pancakes and work strewn over the kitchen island.
She didn’t even hesitate. Despite him having been an escort, she didn’t respect anyone as much as she respected Julian. And that respect had doubled after hearing what he’d told her last night— which is why she said, “Only if you give me a chance to prove I’m yours, too, Julian.”
Instead of answering her, he put down his spatula and rounded the counter to lift her up high in his arms and spin her around. She laughed joyously, sinking into him when he slowly lowered her, making sure her front dragged against his front the entire way before taking her mouth in a passionate kiss.
Please let me be enough for him, she thought.
Julian returned to his place behind the stove, flipped the pancakes onto a plate with the rest of them, then shut off the burner. He presented the plate to her with a flourish. “Your menagerie awaits. I’ve had mine already. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an expose to write. I’m headed home to get my laptop, and I’ll be right back.”
She smiled. “I’ll be waiting.”
57
Julian returned in an hour, laptop in one hand and a ream of paper tucked under his elbow. He set up shop at Skylar’s kitchen island. For the remainder of the weekend, Skylar watched as he worked. It was fascinating to see him get lost in the process. The man was obsessive, printing out background information, interviews, and financial documents until he went through the entire ream of paper, and Skylar had to order more. He made call after call, fact-checking and gathering quotes to use in the article, then double-checking the information was correct.
