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“It is what Grandma would say.” He laughs. “I guess I take after her.”
“No. She’d say something like,sweetheart, if you have the desire, you have to take the plunge. If not, don’t,” I say. “But I know what you mean.”
“She would.”
“Oh yeah, that’s a direct quote.”
He turns to me and raises a brow.
“Lexi asked her once,” I say. “She wasn’t about to ask Dad for sex tips.”
“Grandma gave her sex tips? No. Don’t tell me.”
“You don’t want to picture that?”
He shakes his head.
My stomach flutters and churns at the same time. There she is again. Lexi.
Sure, this is our apartment. She’s my sister and my business partner. It’s normal that she takes up space in my thoughts.
But here?
I don’t want her here, right now. I don’t want to wonder if he thinks of her. Or if he wants someone more like her.
I just want to be. For once, I just want to be.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and focus on the moment. The savory scent of ham, the robust taste of tea, the warm sun streaming through the windows.
River, standing at the stove, in only his boxers.
The man looks just as nice from behind. Strong shoulders and back, tight ass, muscular thighs. Not that I’m objectifying him. Well, maybe a little.
Where were we?
Right. Moms. Big, emotional topics. Not the time to trace the tattoo curling over his shoulder.
Really, who needs big, emotional topics when we can touch? Breakfast first, maybe. Then touching. Sex. Nonverbal communication. Way better than verbal communication.
That’s science.
He doesn’t bring it back to moms or push away. “Can you set the table? No. You’ll argue with a direct order.”
“Here.”
“There, too.” His eyes flit to the bedroom door. “Not that I’m complaining.”
My chest flushes. “I have manners.”
He motionsgo ahead and show me. Which, yes, does make me want to prove him wrong. But only for a second. Only because, for so long, he’s seen me as a spoiled rich girl.
Even if he doesn’t now, he did. And I hated that he didn’t see me. Even if I was too scared to let anyone in.
Letting my Huntington training kick in, I set the table. Plates, mugs, silverware, napkins. Everything in place. Everything just so.
River meets me at the table with breakfast. Two perfectly arranged English muffins topped with ham, poached eggs, and hollandaise. Eggs Benedict. A fancy dish. What he thinks of me. Or maybe how he thinks he fits into this world.
No, we’re still Californians. Our idea of a fancy breakfast always includes avocado. This is his life in New York showing.
