What did Creed just call me?
“Don’t even joke like that. How many eggs do you want?” His dad’s deep voice rumbles through the living room.
“Six, I need to save room for the crepes she made us.”
“Us?”
I guess I can’t hide anymore. I poke my head into the kitchen. “Good morning.”
“Creed.”
“Dad, I told you she was here for breakfast.”
The two men fight with their eyes while I gape at Creed’s father. Mother would definitely tell me I’m not being ladylike, but I don’t really care at the moment. We’ll call this lapse pregnancy hormones. Because staring at a man’s chest isn’t a thing I do…ever. Why does this man hide his abs under clothing? I mean, if I looked that good, I’d consider walking around naked…
No, I wouldn’t, but still, he should think about going shirtless more often. It makes sense now why Darrel always wore a shirt to bed. His pasty-white and slightly flabby, hairless chest probably knew a man like this existed and felt inadequate just knowing.
That was unkind. He cheated on you. You can think unkind thoughts. When you thought you loved him you liked his pasty body.
I don’t need to love this guy to drool over his body. I don’t even need to like him.
We won’t even think about trailing our fingers along those tattoos.
Pregnancy hormones must be a thing.
He literally hates you.
But he seemed nice yesterday.
What does that matter? You swore off men to live a life of solitude, raising your son.
This visit was to ask about shopping, not stare at a man’s body. Doesn’t he worry about grease splatters?
Does roped steel feel anything? The cold certainly isn’t bothering him. “Technically, I am not here to eat breakfast.”
Creed looks down at the large platter, then back at me.
“Those were meant to smooth the way to asking your father a question.”
“I can’t be bribed.” He glares at me.
“I can be.” Creed pulls the plate closer, grabbing a fork. “What do you need?” He nods to the stool next to him.
Why I sit down, I don’t know. “It’s nothing, really.”
“It’s something, or you wouldn’t have cooked,” the sexy man growls.
Mostly, I foolishly thought it would keep you from being this grumpy, but I should have learned that if Cordelia’s cake recipe didn’t work, nothing would. “I was going to do that, anyway.”
The sexy man raises an eyebrow at me.
“I just wasn’t going to bring it over for you, too.”
He nods.
Ruthless honesty seems to be his thing. Good to know. “I was just going to ask where you purchase your food from?”
The spatula in his hand clatters into the pan as he turns to gawk at me. “You were serious about that nutritionist thing.”
