Clayton hadn’t even asked how I took it. He’d just paid attention and remembered.
That hit somewhere deep in my chest. Wasn’t that the kind of man you were supposed to keep?
Wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic mug, I watched him crack eggs into the pan, his movements easy and unhurried. The muscles in his back shifted beneath his worn t-shirt as he worked, and I found myself wondering things I had no business thinking about.
Would hewanta life with me?
The thought felt ridiculous, even as it formed. I’d known this man for less than a week, but somehow we had a connection that defied every logical explanation I could come up with.
I’d been so busy assuming he wouldn’t want anything real with me that I’d never even consider asking.
But what if he did?
What if this rugged mountain man actually wanted more than just a few nights of incredible sex? Worse, what if hedidn’twant more than that?
My heart clenched at the thought.
Clayton slid a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of me before settling into the chair beside mine. His knee pressed against my thigh under the table, warm and solid, and he didn’t move it away. Just let it rest there like it belonged.
“You’re thinking too hard,” he rumbled, picking up his fork. “I can hear the gears grinding from here.”
“Sorry,” I took a bite of eggs to avoid having to elaborate.
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and then his hand found my knee under the table. His palm was warm, his thumb drawing circles against my kneecap while he chewed.
It was such a casual touch. So easy and natural, like he’d been touching me this way for years instead of hours.
“What’s it like seeing the country? I’ve only been outside the Ozarks a handful of times,” he asked as he leaned back and watched me eat.
“It probably seems more exciting than it is. I’ve learned that most towns feel the same if you group them by size. There are a thousand places like Red Oak Mountain in the world.”
Clayton smirked, “Naw. If you let me show you around, you’ll see that there’s nowhere like this townanywhereelse.”
“How can you know that when you said yourself you’ve hardly traveled?”
That caught his attention. Now he was the one with gears turning behind his eyes.
“Maybe you’re right,” he growled. “I’m a small-town guy. I’ve never had much interest in seeing the rest of the world. It’s not high on my bucket list.”
He squinted at me. “My days are simple. Nail, meet hammer. But you… I bet every day is a little different.”
“Not really. Even traveling turns into a routine when you do it all the time. But there are moments. One time I got lost in Missouri during a flash flood. My GPS failed, and I was stuck on a road that was literally called ‘E’. Who names a road E? The low water bridges were flooded over and there were no businesses around anywhere. I ended up pulling over on the side of the road and spending the night in my car.”
“Damn,” he dead-panned. “I can see why you love your job. Sounds thrilling.”
“My wildest claim was in New Mexico,” I said, forking another bite of eggs. “The homeowner tried to tell me his termite damage was hail damage.”
Clayton’s eyebrows lifted. “Termites?”
“Termites,” I confirmed. “He had photos and everything. Except the ‘hail damage’ had eaten straight through the support beams. He made the mistake of thinking I was a prissy little princess.”
Clayton barked out a laugh, “And you didn’t do anything to lead him to that conclusion?”
“No, of course not!” I said with a grin.
“Were you wearing your sexy heels that day?”
A small chuckle slipped out of my mouth. “No. I only wear those foryou.”
