She heard Gil getting ice from the freezer, and there was somethingcomforting about knowing she wasn’t alone. She closed her eyes, and even with the half dose of pain medicine she’d taken, she was fully expecting to toss and turn for a while before sleep claimed her.
She was surprised when the next sound she heard was the grinding of coffee beans.
20
IVY WAS SERIOUSLY CUTE first thing in the morning. She’d shuffled out of her room and into the kitchen, looking around the space as if she’d never seen it before. Unlike the previous three mornings, her hair and makeup weren’t done, and Gil suspected she’d rolled out of bed and come straight to the kitchen like she would have done had she been home alone. Probably to get a cup of coffee before she did anything else.
“Good morning.” He kept his voice soft. “Coffee?”
“Please.” The word was followed by a yawn.
He poured coffee into a huge mug and left a ridiculous amount of room for cream. He grabbed the hazelnut creamer from the fridge, a spoon from the drawer, and set both by the coffee as she slid onto the barstool. He watched as she poured a healthy glug of creamer into the coffee, stirred it, then took a small sip. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She was still a bit fuzzy and confused, two words he could already tell were rarely applicable to her. He had no way to know if this was how she was every morning or if it was a direct result of waking up after taking pain medicine the night before. Either way, it was endearing.
“I hope you still like blueberry pancakes.”
Her answering smile held on to her morning muzziness, but there was also surprise mingled with what he suspected, and hoped, was delight. It sent something warm and comfortable straight through him. This was the fourth morning in a row he’d made her breakfast, and he was in no hurry to hand in his spatula. When she was safe, if she would let him, he’d come over every morning for the privilege of fixing her breakfast—and the fun of seeing her first thing before all her synapses started firing at their normal genius-level pace.
“Blueberries?” Her brow was wrinkled, her eyes blinking a bit faster than normal. The mental cobwebs were making a hasty retreat. She must have known she didn’t have blueberries in her fridge, so how was he making blueberry pancakes?
“Luke brought them last night.”
She turned on the stool, looking toward her sofa.
“He left about thirty minutes ago.”
“Oh.” She didn’t say more, and he didn’t push her.
He’d had a long talk with Luke yesterday. Then another with Emily as he drove to Ivy’s office. He’d lost his mind when it came to Ivy. It was ridiculous. He couldn’t, shouldn’t, expect her to fall in love with him in three days. He shouldn’t even expect her to have considered the possibility that he might want to be more than a friend. Not yet. It was too soon. He was going too fast. So he’d slammed on the brakes and done everything in his power to pull back from the edge.
Not that he hadn’t thrown himself over it already. He was gone. He knew it. He was good with it. Well, maybe not good. Truth be told, if he thought about it too much, it scared him. He wasn’t a masochist, and like he’d told Emily before, he wasn’t sure how he’d survive losing Ivy a second time. But what was done was done. And while no one would believe it, he was pretty sure he’d handed hisheart to Ivy in elementary school, definitely in high school. And even after she walked away, he never made any serious effort to give it to someone else. It was hers. Always would be.
It was nuts, but that’s how he felt. He was lucid enough—especially after Luke told him he was scaring her and Emily told him no girl who’d been through what Ivy had been through on Friday needed a man messing with her head or her heart—to know that if he wanted to have a future with Ivy, he needed to back off.
So that’s what he was doing—he was backing off. Not out of sight. Not even out of reach. But hopefully far enough that she wouldn’t panic and bolt at the first opportunity.
He made pancakes, she sipped coffee, and Gil waited, letting her set the direction of the conversation. She didn’t offer a word until he slid a plate with two blueberry pancakes in front of her, then pushed the syrup in her direction. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He turned back to the griddle and flipped two more pancakes onto a plate for himself, then joined her at the bar. “Mind if I bless the food?”
“Please.”
He offered a brief prayer and watched as she lifted her fork and took a bite. Her eyes closed, and she turned to him. “Amazing.”
Did she realize she was speaking in one-word sentences only?
She took three more bites before she turned to him and asked, “What should I expect today?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m not accustomed to having friends popping by at seemingly, but not”—she gave him a pointed look—“random intervals. I’m not used to having anyone bring me a lunch I didn’t order for myself. I’m also not in the habit of being chauffeured around as if I’ve lost the ability to drive. And when I get home, I’m definitely not used to having someone cook my dinner, cleanit up, then send me to sleep deeply while being guarded by men who—and this is something not lost on me—protect the president of the United States. So, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to know what to expect today.”
Wow. She went from one-word responses to fully formed arguments in the space of half a cup of coffee and four bites of pancakes. In the future, if he wanted to stand a chance, he’d need to slip in his most ridiculous requests first thing. As it was, he answered truthfully. “I would imagine today will be similar to yesterday.”
She studied him for a beat. Then turned back to her pancakes and said, “Okay.”
IT WAS CLEAR TO GILthat Ivy had a lot on her mind, and he walked her into her office wishing he had the right to insist that she share. Instead, he squeezed her elbow, promised to bring lunch at 1:00 p.m., and went to work. Tessa rolled in right after he did, armed with a massive coffee for him, which he accepted gratefully. Then Leslie, their office manager, sent a message that chocolate cake was in the conference room and would they please not eat all of it before Jacob, the special agent in charge, had a chance to get a piece.
