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“What?” I say from behind my hand over my mouth.
“Americans. Everything isawesome.”
“Oh.” There’s a carafe of milk with some empty glasses, so I help myself and wash down my eggs. “These eggs are brilliant.”
“Better.”
“All right, mate?” A tall, leanly muscular guy with short brown bed hair saunters into the kitchen from behind me. He’s barefoot in wrinkled jeans and a rumpled T-shirt that appear slept in. “Who’s this then?”
“Abbey, Jamie,” Lee introduces, preparing another plate for the newcomer. “Jamie, Abbey.”
The quintessentially pale Englishman I’ve come to expect from rom-coms goes to the kettle on the stove and makes himself a cup of tea, which he brings over to the chair beside me, then picks a piece of bacon off my plate with a flirtatious wink.
“Hi, Abbey.” He bats his eyelashes, and I’m sure that routine, coupled with his aristocratic features and prep-school posh smile, works every time. “Sleep well?”
I nod fervently. “Brilliant.”
That gets a chuckle out of Lee.
Jamie nods back. “Lovely.”
With spatula in hand, Lee hovers over the plate of sausage. “Shall I fix her a plate?”
Though Lee addresses the question to him, Jamie doesn’t look up from spreading jam on his toast. “Who’s that?” he says, dismissive.
“Are you asking me because you don’t remember her name?” Lee’s tone is wry.
“Who are we talking about?” I ask curiously.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Lee cocks his head when the floor creaks above our heads. We hear quick footsteps followed by a hastily shut door. “Can’t tell me those are Jackie’s pitter-patters.”
Jamie, apparently speaking to his toast, shrugs. “Must be mice.”
A series of much slower, heavier footsteps trudge down the stairs. I soon discover they belong to a whole mountain of a tanned shirtless blond guy with stubble around his jaw and more abs than I have eyelashes. Jack, I presume. Though he could easily pass for Thor. Only thing missing is the big hammer.
Maybe he keeps that in his pants…
I swear I hear Eliza’s voice in my head.
“You know there’s a half-naked woman running around upstairs?” he drawls in a thick Australian accent, dropping down in the chair on the other side of mine at the breakfast bar.
As he reaches across me for the serving plate of eggs, he flashes a charming smile that knocks me right off my axis.
Holy smokes. I’ve never seen a more attractive man in person. Perfect square jaw and endearing dimples. Biceps the size of my thighs.
“There seems to be some confusion as to whether she’s several mice in a person costume,” Lee says, flaring a sarcastic glare at Jamie, who remains steadfastly committed to his breakfast.
Jack peers at me. “You’re not several mice in a costume, are you?”
I shake my head. “I’m Abbey. You can call me, um, Abbey.”
Oh my God.
Really? What the hell else would he call me? Susan?
His lips twitch with humor. “I’m Jack.” A beat. “Call me Jack.”
Lee snickers from the stove. I can only imagine how red my cheeks are at the moment.
