“You look gorgeous,” he says, that smile tipping his dimples into place. “Breakfast is almost ready.”
Walking by, as I pass behind him, I press a soft kiss to his arm—just a little touch, nothing grand. But the grunt he lets out? Oh, that’s definitely not nothing.
My gaze flicks to his, and yep—there it is. That smile. That Nate-special that could melt glaciers and make grown women forget how to breathe.
“Go take a seat, my lady,” he says with a little bow of his head like I’m royalty or something.
I snort. “Don’t tempt me to start making demands. I’m starving.”
My stomach grumbles on cue like it’s trying to back me up in court. I plop into the chair and stretch like a cat who survived a hurricane.
“You looked like it,” he teases, plating fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and a stack of pancakes that smell like heaven and bad decisions. “You passed out before dinner even got here.”
“Jet lag,” I mutter dramatically, tossing my hair over one shoulder. “It’s evil. You should’ve woken me up. Thrown a pancake at me or something.”
He chuckles and places the plate in front of me, brushing a kiss on the top of my head. The man kills me with these sweet little gestures.
“Tried to wake you. Not my fault you sleep like a hibernating bear in a coma.”
I gasp. “Did you just call me a bear?!”
He lifts both hands like he’s surrendering to the FBI. “A cute bear. A cuddly one. One that snores.”
“I do not snore!”
“You grrr’d in your sleep, Izzy. I have witnesses.”
“GRRRR.” I growl at him just to prove his point, and he nearly drops his fork from laughing so hard.
“See? You’re halfway to becoming a Disney mascot.”
“Keep talking, Nathan. One of these pancakes might end up on your face.”
He winks and leans forward. “Make sure to finish all of it. You’ll need your energy.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
He grins wickedly. “You’ll see. We’re going on an adventure.”
“Oh no.” I shove a bite of pancake into my mouth. “Last time you said that I ended up in a boat with no engine and a questionable life vest.”
“We were seven then and you lived, didn’t you?”
“Barely! And I still don’t trust ducks.” I don’t even know how we got back without any of the adults noticing our foolishness. Those damn ducks followed us and almost made us end up in the lake.
“Well,” he leans back with that damn sexy smirk, “today’s adventure involves zero ducks and slightly more control over our direction.”
I squint at him. “Do I need to pack snacks? First aid kit? Emergency flares?”
“You just need that killer smile and a down jacket. I’ve got the rest.”
God help me. I already feel like I’m falling a little more.
We hop into his car and drive out past the lake, the road winding through pine trees and memories. Laughter spills easy between us, and for a moment, it feels like nothing could go wrong.
But as the silence stretches, my smile fades. Doubts creep in.
One month.
