“Morning,” she says, without looking up.
She slides a mug of coffee across the counter toward me like a bartender dealing with a drunk regular. Thevibeis…weird. Controlled.
I sit down and clear my throat.
“I slept great,” I offer. “Hope I didn’t, uh—talk in my sleep.”
She doesn’t say anything, which is somehowworse.
So I take a sip and stare straight ahead.
“This is nice,” I say.
She glances at me sideways. “The coffee?”
“No,” I say, looking at her. “You.”
She pauses, eyes narrowing. “No flirting, Logan.”
I raise my hands in surrender. “I wasn’t trying to be flirty. I meant your, uh, interior decorating skills.”
“My interior decorating?”
“Yep. Very…rustic-chic. Like aBetter Homes and Gardens: Sassy Small Town Girl Edition.”
She makes a face. “You’re an idiot.”
“I know. But a charming one.”
She takes a slow sip of her own coffee, and I swear there’s a ghost of a smile at the edge of her mouth. But she doesn’t give in.
“Anyway,” I say, trying to soundveryprofessional, “if you’d like, I could make us some breakfast.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Is that a euphemism?”
I blink. “No! I mean actual eggs. Like…chicken eggs. I was just being polite.”
“Oh. Wow. Polite and charming? You must be trying to get something.”
“Just trying to be a good roommate.” I lean back in my chair. “I hear it’s frowned upon to seduce your landlady before breakfast.”
She gives me a long look. “Thatisa good rule.”
And I’m definitely going to break it.
I cough. “Eggs?”
She shrugs. “Sure. Knock yourself out, Romeo.”
I get up and start pulling ingredients from the fridge, trying not to think about how her voice sounded in my fantasy. How she whispered my name like a prayer.
I crack the eggs one-handed. She notices.
“You’ve done this before.”
“I’m full of surprises.”
She leans on the counter and watches me like I’m some sort of science experiment. I try not to combust.
