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“Good morning.” I keep my voice soft.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Not long.”
He drapes a heavy arm across my waist and pulls me closer to him. I roll onto my side and snuggle into place. My eyelids drift closed, and I mentally screenshot this moment, the image of us enveloped in peace and calmness, despite the storm beginning to rage outside.
When I wake again, the room is much brighter. The rain has stopped, and birds are chirping. And I smell bacon. This is the first time Teague has ever gotten up without waking me before he left the bed.
I find him in the kitchen, pulling plates from an upper cabinet, and I watch his shirtless back and shoulder muscles work in tandem.Art. Pure fucking art.
“You didn’t have to let me sleep in.”
“You needed it.” He sets the plates on the table and kisses my forehead on his way back to the stove.
Sweet cotton candy clouds, those are the fluffiest pancakes I’ve ever seen. I’m never making pancakes for this man. His make mine look like crepes.
He’s made coffee already. The fact that I slept through the smell of fresh coffee brewing confirms I definitely needed the sleep. I pour myself a cup and take a sip. He smiles. “Gotta love a woman who can appreciate black coffee.”
“Why ruin a good thing with cream?”
His eyebrows shoot up, and I know he’s contemplating a dirty comment, but he doesn’t utter it, just smiles wider, which makes me smile in return. He lays the last strips of bacon onto a paper-towel-covered plate and carries it to the table.
He has real maple syrup. The only thing missing is fresh strawberries, but honestly, if he’d sliced strawberries, I’d be breathing onto a mirror right now to make sure it fogged and I hadn’t actually died and floated up to some celestial café.
“What do you want to do today?” he asks.
“It’s supposed to rain all day.” I sneak Angus a bite of bacon under the table.
“There will be breaks. It’s not raining now. We could do something inside. Go to a movie?”
“I haven’t seen a movie in a theater in so long I can’t remember what I saw last. I don’t even know what’s playing.”
“Neither do I. Let’s just go and buy tickets for whatever is starting next.”
“What if it’s awful?”
“We’ll make out instead.”
“Like teenagers?”
“Yeah, but teenagers with wisdom and skills.”
“That sounds like a fantasy.”
“I’m all about fulfilling your fantasies.”
“I didn’t say it sounded likemyfantasy.”
“Guilty.” He shrugs. “But let’s do it.”
There’s an older, small theater not far from his house, but we arrive at the worst possible time. The last movie started thirty minutes ago, and the next one doesn’t start for over an hour. “That’s a long time to wait,” I say.
“Yeah, I guess we should’ve planned after all.”
“That would’ve ruined the spontaneity, though.”
“True.” He reaches for my hand as we walk back to his truck. The rain has tapered to a light sprinkle. We don’t hurry to escape it. He opens the passenger side door for me, and I climb up into the cab. When he slides behind the wheel, he looks over at me with that wicked glimmer I love sparkling in his eyes. “When was the last time you made out in a truck?”
