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“Go ahead and dish yourself up with however much you want. There’s plenty.”
I pile my plate high with the protein and add a bunch of blueberries to the corner.
“There’s whipped cream for the blueberries if you want,” he adds, his face in a concentrated frown as he hands me the small bowl. He’s nervous, and a little bit proud of himself for making this breakfast for me.
“You whipped cream this morning?” I spoon a dollop on top of the berries, then swipe my finger in it and lick it off. I don’t miss his eyes trained on my finger—on my mouth. “Um, okay, I’m never leaving.” I laugh, but he doesn’t. The look he gives me is serious, dangerous.
I dig into the food. He gets his own plate and sits down, a barstool between us for good measure. I can’t help my moan as I eat the scrambled eggs. They’re rich, buttery, cheesy, delectable.
“Where did you learn to make eggs like this?” I ask between bites.
He watches me carefully, pleased as punch that I like it so much but trying not to show it. Something in my heart softens a little too much.
“My aunt Stella taught me,” he says. “My mom’s great, but she’s not much of a cook. You know, raising six boys, helping my dad with the company…she traveled a lot, too. I love my mom. She wasn’t domestic, though. Stella lives here in Longdale. We stayed with her most summers of my childhood. And then a few years ago, the chef we’ve used to get the resort restaurants up and running taught me how to take Stella’s scrambled eggs to the next level.” His lips twitch. “I actually tried to do an omelet, but it broke when I was folding it in half, so you get scrambled instead.”
“It’s phenomenal.” I take a bite of cream-topped blueberries and chew and swallow before I add, “I’m not much of a cook, I have to admit.”
“What do you usually eat for breakfast?”
“It’s terrible, but instant oatmeal packets, protein shakes, and sometimes I skip breakfast all together. You know, intermittent fasting without exactly intending to.” I point my fork at him. “But I can meal prep like a boss, you know. Sheet pan style. I roast a bunch of veggies, sweet potatoes, some chicken thighs or ground turkey, and cook up a pot of quinoa and rice, and boom. There’s my dinner for a week.”
“That sounds really good. Feel free to use the kitchen and any ingredients or supplies you find, if you want to.”
He rests his elbow on the island and shifts his body so he’s facing me. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need. It’s no Longdale Lake resort, but free is pretty cheap, right? And you can’t beat the views.”
I offer a smile. “Thanks, Alec. I appreciate it.”
His gaze rakes over me. “It’s probably strange, being here,” he says. “Leaving everything behind on such short notice. You up for this?”
I swallow down the doubts along with the rest of my orange juice. “Of course I am. Bring it on.” I rise from my barstool, and take my plate over to the sink. Filling it with hot, soapy water, I start to wash the dishes.
He joins me at the sink, taking the clean dishes from me to rinse and dry. I feel the heat from his body. I’m mesmerized by the way the muscles in his arms ripple as he rubs the dish towel across the plates. I catch a glimpse of his injured forearms, which are in the pink stage of the healing process.
I want to touch the scars, to ask him if they still hurt, to slide my fingers through the boyish tuft of dark hair sticking up at the crown of his head.
But I don’t do any of that. Instead, I thank him again for the food, wring out and then rest the dish rag on the edge of the sink, and head upstairs.
I kind of like Alec’s Not-A-Bigfoot-Chainsaw cabin.
The only problem is, Alec’s starting to get into my head, to fill up my thoughts. And that can’t happen.
Nothing can happen with Alec.
Chapter 16
Alec
My knee aches as I take the stairs up to Sebastian’s office. Yes, I’m taking the stairs instead of the elevator. Wahoo for me. And the ache isn’t the old ache, the numbing, menacing dark sludge of an injury that was allowed to stagnate, fester, and stew.
Yes,Iwas the one who allowed it to stagnate. I know that wasn’t smart of me.
No, this is a new ache. One that’s fresh and as a result of activity and stretching and these weird little toe rise things that Oakley has me do.
Before I can even reach his office, Sebastian meets me in the hall, his tie off center. “Sorry, I can’t meet anymore,” he says, charging past me.
“So I came all the way over here for nothing?”
“You came all the way over here so you can get stuff done for the recreation programs, not just meet with me.”
