But first, I wanted some of that bacon.
I dried, dressed in jeans and a tank under a light over-shirt, then made my way to the kitchen.
“Can’t this wait?” Ryder’s voice was lowered like he was trying not to be overheard by someone in the living room. Or maybe someone coming out of the shower.
I shouldn’t eavesdrop.
I stopped just outside the kitchen and glanced in.
Totally eavesdropping.
He was on the phone, his back toward me. I caught my breath at the width of his shoulders under that soft gray T-shirt, and the narrow taper of his hips. He had on a pair of faded jeans with a hole in the back pocket and they clung to the muscle of his thigh and the tight rise of his butt, making his legs look long, strong, and hard.
“No,” he said. “I’m not telling her that. You deal with it. Fine, put someone else on it. She doesn’t need one more thing. No. You are more than capable of taking care of this.” He reached up into my cupboard and retrieved a plate, onto which he stacked bacon and then tipped half a pan of scrambled eggs. “Threaten all you want. I don’t give a damn. Right. Good? Fine.” He pulled his phone away from his ear and stabbed the button.
I raised my eyebrows. Had no idea who he was talking to. But even without a soul, I was curious enough to want to find out.
“Should I guess?” I asked.
He had picked up the plate and a cup of coffee. At my question he paused, but finished turning toward me.
“You get some sleep?”
I walked into the room. “Redirection? Not really your style, Ryder. Want to tell me what that call was about?”
“Nope. What do you think about bacon?”
“It’s the most magical of pig parts.”
“Want to eat at the breakfast nook?”
“Here’s better.”
He gave me the plate and I leaned against the counter, putting the plate in front of me so I could eat standing. He watched me, and I could tell he was tense. It sort of rolled off him in waves.
“You eat?” I asked.
“Over an hour ago. How’d you sleep?”
“Hard and dreamlessly.”
“Good,” he said on an exhale. “Feel any better?”
“As compared to when?”
“You were pretty out of it last night. After you gave blood, you passed out. Then…well, we brought you home.”
It sounded like something was missing in that statement. I bit into the bacon, chased it with eggs. Breakfast was hot and seasoned with more pepper than salt, just how I liked it. Who knew Ryder knew how to cook?
“This is fantastic.” I sipped coffee. Hot. Strong. “What’s it gonna take for you to cook breakfast for me every morning?”
He paused, every line of his body stilled.
What had I just said? Was it something weird? I didn’t think it was weird.
“You’d have to come over early.” I finished another strip of bacon.
“Or stay late,” he suggested. Casually. Oh, so casually.
