What a terribly formal conversation. She glanced over her shoulder at the bed. At home, her bed was big enough to accommodate them both and Doodle, but not here. “Do you... do you want to go to your room to talk?”
Jas’s smile was faint. “Don’t want to disturb Doodle?”
“Ha, yeah.” She stepped outside the door and closed it behind her. She brushed up against him, and he looked her up and down. She shivered. He’d never really done that before. He’d always been so careful to keep his gaze above her neck. Sleeping together had changed some things.
“Have you told Rhiannon and Jia about Doodle yet?”
She fell into step next to him as they walked down the hall. “Not yet. I didn’t want them to get attached if I had to give her up. I’ll tell them next time we talk.”
“You’re already attached.”
“Well, those are my feelings to deal with. No need to make someone else hurt if I can avoid it.”Can’t control others.
He motioned her into his room. She flushed at the sight of the bed where they’d slept last night.
She sat down on it gingerly and drew her knees up. He went into the bathroom and closed the door for a few minutes, then opened it again. He wore only a pair of those sweatpants she’d drooled over this morning.
Her misgivings and dismay flew out of her head. Had gray joggers always been the sexiest article of clothing a man could own, or had that happened recently?
He brushed his teeth and washed his face and she scooted back on the bed, fascinated. He had his own routine, only his was much more economical than her fifteen-step program. Such a mundane thing, to watch someone ready themselves for bed, yet so intimate. Especially when they were in those joggers. Those low-slung, drawstring-tied, easy to remove...
Katrina released the breath she was holding and fanned herself. She needed a distraction from those sweats. “What’s your favorite food?”
“What?”
“Your favorite food. Like if you could have anything in the world for breakfast tomorrow, what would it be?”
He pulled out his floss. His biceps flexed when he lifted it to his mouth. Who knew good dental hygiene could be such a turn-on? “I like everything you make.”
“But what’s your favorite?” she insisted.
He finished flossing, and came out of the bathroom. “I don’t have a favorite.”
“Everybody has a favorite dish. What’s the breakfast you used to eat the most as a kid, the one that makes you feel all warm and squishy inside when you think about it?”
“I was never actually much of a breakfast eater.”
She stared at him. “You eat it every day when I make it for you.”
“Because you make it for me.”
Holy shit. “So let me get this straight: you don’t evenlikebreakfast, but for the last nine years, you’ve eaten whatever I make for you, every morning, instead of justtelling meyou don’t care for the meal?”
Jas leaned against the armchair facing the bed. “I appreciate you cooking it, and it is an important meal. I’m happy to eat it.”
She gave a half laugh. “Are you kidding me?”
“I don’t see what the problem is.”
“The problem—” she cut herself off when he rubbed the back of his neck. A rare show of exhaustion on his part.
Another shot of guilt. She should drop this. It wasn’t that important, right?
Except as a symptom of a deeper problem. This should be an easy question, one she didn’t have to badger him into answering. “Name one dish you actually like.”
He was silent for a moment. “I like your waffles.”
“The sourdough waffles?” She perked up. “Those are my favorites, too.”
