I’m up before my alarm, which is new. Usually, I sleep like a rock, with a clear head and no distractions. I fall into routine easily in whichever city I’m in. But not today.
Today, I’ve got a girl in the next room who is throwing me off my game. So naturally, I do the only logical thing, which is to make coffee and breakfast.
Because nothing saysI’m handling this welllike making French toast at six-thirty a.m.
The front door creaks faintly as the house settles. Old houses have noises, apparently. And I’m pretty sure this old Riverbend place was built in the early 1900s. I do love the high ceilings, though. And honestly, the lack of a dishwasher doesn’t really bug me.
But hell, my mind is not on dishes right now. Every few seconds, my eyes flick to the hallway.
Then I hear her footsteps. She sounds slow and hesitant. Like she’s on her tiptoes.
Cassie appears in the doorway, hair slightly messy, oversized tee hanging off one shoulder.
She stops when she sees me, along with the coffee and the food.
Her eyes narrow, and she does this thing where she plays with her brown hair a little on top of her head. “What is this?”
“Breakfast,” I say, like that’s obvious.
“I can see that. Why are you making it?”
I shrug, flipping the bread. “I contain multitudes.”
She crosses her arms, still eyeing me like I’ve committed some kind of crime.
“You’re being weird.”
“Am not.” I grin.
“Are too.”
“If you want to see weird, I can definitely…get weird,” I smirk.
Her cheeks flush instantly.
“Logan. Come on. It’s too early for this.”
“Cassie.”
She exhales, stepping further into the kitchen, like she’s trying to regain control of the situation.
“If this is about last night, I needed a good night’s sleep.”
“Oh? Seemed like you sleptquitewell after we had our little night of fun. That was the first time I’d seen you sleep past nine a.m.”
“Coffee?” I offer when she doesn’t say anything.
She hesitates, then takes it, and our fingers brush for half a second.
It’s not much, but it’s enough to ignite a little spark. Her breath catches—barely—but I hear it.
I don’t say anything. I just meet her eyes.
“Don’t,” she says.
“Don’t what?”
She shakes her head, turning away, but there’s a hint of a smile fighting its way through.
