“Right, well, I don’t think one breakfast is going to do any damage. Besides, it will help with your hangover.”
I wince. “I’m not actually feeling that hungover.” I’m a little headachy, sure, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.
“Fuck, but I forgot what it’s like to be twenty,” he mutters.
“Twenty-six.”
We’ve made it into a kitchen filled with gleaming white countertops and designer brand appliances. He stops in front of the stainless-steel fridge and cocks his head. “What?”
Blushing all over again, I sit on one of the bar stools situated next to the breakfast bar and repeat the correction. “I’m twenty-six.”
As if that’s going to stop him from seeing me as anything other than a kid.
I don’t know why that’s bothering me so much, to be honest. It’s not like I’ve seen Kenneth since my high school graduation, and there’s no way he can know about the crush I developed on him when I was thirteen and which has flared up again now that I’m alone with him in his…house? Is that where I am?
I give myself a little shake and swivel on my stool as I take the space in. The first thing I notice is the floor-to-ceiling wall of glass separating the long room we’re in from the cityscape below. I’m unable to contain my gasp and I clutch at my racing heart, wishing that my scared-of-heights ass hadn’t made this discovery.
There’s a clatter from where Kenneth is bent over the oven, but, before I know it, he’s stepping in front of me and placing his hands on my shoulders. His touch is steadying.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, and I blink a few times before focusing my gaze on his handsome face, which is contorted with worry. “Cody?”
Once again, I feel embarrassment washing over me. My cheeks are probably permanently stained red at this point. “I just…I didn’t realize we were so high up.” I swallow. Sneaking a peek around him, I regret it almost immediately.
“You’re afraid of heights?” he asks, then leans over and presses a button on a panel on the wall at the end of the kitchen counter.All of a sudden, blinds descend from tracks in the ceiling, obscuring the view. And the light. He presses another button, and the whole apartment is bright again, the overhead lights switching on above us and in the dining and living spaces, too.
“Wow,” I mutter, blinking in surprise. “That’s…handy.” It’s really fucking fancy, actually.
Boy, how the other half live…
Then, realizing how ungrateful that thought is, I add, “Thank you.”
Kenneth looks me over critically before he nods, squeezes my shoulders, and backs off. He heads back to the oven and then returns again, sliding a plate of pancakes and crispy bacon in front of me, along with a glass bottle of maple syrup.
“Coffee?” he asks me after watching to make sure I dig in to my breakfast.
“Please,” I actually beg. “Creamer and sugar, too, if you’ve got it.”
The pancakes are fluffy and the sweetness of the syrup against the saltiness of the bacon actually does make me feel much better. I practically inhale the coffee Kenneth sets in front of me, too, and by the time everything is gone, I have to admit my headache has evaporated and I’m feeling close to human again.
“Thank you,” I tell him again, watching as he places my dishes in the dishwasher next to a set that must have belonged to him.
“You’re welcome,” he says, then leans against the counter where he’s standing, crossing his long legs at the ankle. “Now, can we talk about last night?”
Chapter Five
Cody’s blush returns with a vengeance at my question. He’s so cute, it takes all my willpower not to try and flirt him out of those insanely tight jeans. Well, willpower and the reminder that this is my best friend’s son. Even if he were interested in me —which I’m sure he’s not— I couldn’t possibly hit it and quit it with Mike’s kid. It would ruin my closest, longest-running friendship.
Plus, Cody deserves better than a quick fling with a creepy old man.
“I…I don’t know why you were even there,” he finally answers me, looking into the bottom of his empty mug. He swirls the dregs around. “Not that I don’t appreciate what you did, but…yeah.”
I blink. “You texted me.”
Now he looks up at me, his cute, youthful face painted with genuine surprise. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes” —I fish my phone from my pocket and click open my messaging app, turning the phone to face him— “you did.”
Squinting, Cody climbs off the bar stool and makes his way around the breakfast bar cautiously. He reaches for my phone and his expression twists in confusion, then understanding, as he reads the garbled texts on my screen. “Well, fuck,” he mutters. “That explains Syl’s messages. Ah, shit. Sylvia!”
