She slung the bag over her shoulder.
“Do you regret it?”
He wasn’t looking at her, instead focusing intently on a small crack in the countertop.
“Regret what?” she replied, confused.
“This. Me.” He met her eyes. “I can buy you out of the contract if you want. No hard feelings. I’ll take the heat from Audrey.”
They held eye contact for a fraught moment before she burst out laughing. She dropped her bag on the floor and strode back to the kitchen island.
“Jesus Christ, fine, I’ll have breakfast with you, you big drama queen.”
Ethan let out an indignant exhalation. “I’m not—you don’t have to—” he stammered. Grey held up her hand to stop him and sat authoritatively back down on the stool.
“Nope. I’m here. I’m hungry. What are you making me?” She propped her elbows on the table and set her chin in her hands, blinking innocently. Ethan opened his mouth again, then closed it and turned back to the fridge.
“Sweet or savory?”
A smile played at the corners of Grey’s mouth. “I guess I know better than to ask for sweet.”
—
HIS OFFER OFbreakfast had been kind of a bluff, actually. He cooked for Elle and Sydney sometimes when they were there, but it wasn’t anything special. He wasn’t sure what had compelled him to blurt it out. Grey had something of a stupefying effect on him. So far, avoiding her as much as possible had been the most surefire way to prevent him from doing anything rash—like barely stopping short of dropping to his knees and begging her not to walk out his front door. At least it was better than throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to his bedroom like a caveman.
When he heard voices in the kitchen that morning, he’d thought about hiding in his room until they departed, but that seemed too childish, even for him. This was his house, after all. When he walked in to find her lounging in his kitchen, sunlight glinting off her hair, laughing with Lucas, something had shifted inside him. He washappyto see her there. He would’ve said anything to make her stay for even ten more minutes.
Ethan at least had the presence of mind to be a little embarrassed that he’d gone so far as to offer to break the contract. What would he have done if she’d said yes? As disquieting as her presence was, the prospect of the alternative was much worse. Thankfully, she had just laughed that smoky, bewitching laugh, gently teased him at his outburst, and planted herself back where she belonged.
Where she belonged.
Ethan didn’t give that thought time to settle before he pushed it out in favor of the task at hand: breakfast.
“Eggs? I can do scrambled, or…scrambled.”
Grey laughed again. “Slow down, I’m overwhelmed.” She popped off the stool and came up beside him, his skin prickling at her proximity. She smelled, like always, of flowers, but there wassomething else lingering underneath, warm and earthy and unmistakably Grey. She opened the pantry and pulled out a fresh loaf of sourdough bread. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about breakfast sandwiches ever since I saw this.”
She tossed it to him and he caught it.
“Sounds good to me.”
She went over to the fridge now, and he practically jumped out of her way to avoid grazing her forearm. She began pulling out ingredients and setting them on the counter.
“Hey!” He shooed her back to the other side of the island. “That’s my job.”
“Fine. Don’t forget the avocado.”
Twenty minutes later, they headed out to Ethan’s patio, overlooking the pool. Ethan carried the plates with the sandwiches, while Grey followed behind with coffee—iced for her, hot for him. They settled across from each other at the slate table, shaded by the jutting roof. Ethan had left the sandwiches open-faced, each one topped with a glistening fried egg. He’d insisted that Grey take the one he hadn’t accidentally broken while flipping, and as she pressed the other slice of toasted sourdough on top, the bright yellow yolk oozed over the sides.
“I think you nailed it,” she said, wrapping her hands around the sandwich, careful to steer clear of the dripping yolk.
“Taste it first. Looks can be deceiving.”
Grey lifted the sandwich to her mouth and bit into it. With the pressure of the bite, more egg yolk spurted out, dripping onto her fingers.
“Oh, fuck,” she murmured, dropping the sandwich back onto the plate and bringing her hand to her mouth. Seemingly without thinking, she dipped her slender fingers into her mouth, one at a time, closing her lips around them and sucking them clean.
Ethan gawked at her, his own sandwich untouched, halfway to his mouth. When she realized he was staring, she blushed, dropping her hand to her napkin to finish the job.
