“Oh, I’ve learned alotof new tricks I can do in the morning.”
Pink splashes across the soft skin of her cheeks, and she takes a sip to hide her smile.
It lights me up inside, no lie.
“How’d you sleep?” I ask.
Her lips tug into a smile, one that she lets me see behind the rim of her coffee cup. “Good. How did you sleep?”
“Like a log,” I lie. Maybe if the log were being sawed at odd angles.
“Good.” She inspects the breakfast sandwich before eyeing me. “You cook now?”
“I cook.” I shoot her a saucy look. “New tricks, remember?”
She tries to look annoyed as she sinks her teeth into the breakfast sandwich, but then she lets out a little moan.
My primal side commits that moan to memory, imagining a thousand new ideas of how I can make her do it again.
Kate catches my intense gaze, and she nods toward the pan. “I think your bread is burning.”
I snap toward the cast iron skillet wheremysandwich has already far surpassed the golden color I was aiming for. I curse and flip it onto a plate.
“It’s fine.”
Kate’s smile is all teeth, the little brat. “Sure.”
She barely comes up for oxygen as she inhales her sandwich. The protein and carbs will stick to her ribs, which was a good idea on my part, especially if we’re going to be seeing so much of each other today. Hangry Kate is a different beast.
I slap together my somewhat burnt sandwich and clamber onto the stool beside her. Burnt bread and all, it’s still good.
I groan and take another bite. It’s like life itself is embedded in this sandwich, and hopefully, it will fuel what muscles that beddidn’tmurder.
Kate squints at me. “You slept like crap, didn’t you?”
“Sure did,” I sigh around another bite.
“You liar.”
“Didn’t want to make you feel bad, Katie Cat.” I use the nickname she hates in hopes she’ll get riled up and breeze past any guilt. She doesn’t need to feel guilty after what I witnessed last night. No one should feel ashamed for needing someone.
But the bottom lip captured between her teeth says she’s feeling a whole lot of everything.
“I’m sorry,” she finally says.
“No need.” I aim for humor next. “But did your parents buy that bed from the motel? Did you miss me so much you asked for a souvenir?”
I’m rewarded with a huge laugh, but the pinch in her brows say she’s not moving past this. She shoves the last bite into her mouth, dusts off her hands, and hops down from the barstool.
“What are you?—”
Kate’s gentle hands find the nape of my neck, and my chin drops so fast to my chest that I almost sprain my neck. She begins to knead the tangled muscles apart, sounding far more collected than my unraveling kill switch.
“It’s the least I can do since I dragged you here.”
I snort against my chest.
“You didn’tdragme here, Kate. Although when you barged into that boxing gym so late, I did think you were hitting me up for a booty call.”
