Page 136 of Pucking Daddy

“Morning,” I echo, suddenly very aware of the space between us.

He crosses the room in a few quiet steps, stopping right in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head to meet his eyes.

“What?” I ask, my voice softer than I mean it to be.

“Nothing,” he says, his lip quirking. “Can’t I look at my wife?”

Then he kisses me in greeting, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Right on the mouth. It’s closed, brief, barely a second, but it leaves me flushed and completely off balance.

I try to cover it. “Ahem, so, yeah—”

Oh God.

Words. Use words.

“So, um… breakfast,” I continue, turning a little too fast toward the counter. “I was just—making breakfast. Obviously. Because that’s… what people do in the morning. They eat. Normal people. We’re normal.”

I wince internally.

Stop talking.

But I don’t.

“And pancakes are, you know, statistically a very safe choice,” I add, grabbing a bowl and stirring something that does not need stirring. “For evaluations. I mean—not that there’s, like, official data on that, but if there were, I feel like pancakes would rank high. Comfort food. Approachable. Non-threatening.”

Behind me, there’s a pause.

A very pointed pause.

I can feel his eyes on me.

“Zara,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m just saying,” I rush on, because apparently I’ve completely lost control of my brain, “we could have done something more complicated, like eggs Benedict, but that feels a little try-hard, and we’re not trying too hard, we’re just—naturally competent, casually put together, emotionally stable adults who happen to—”

I stop.

Finally.

Very slowly, I turn around.

He’s watching me like this is the most entertaining thing he’s seen all week.

“You’re done?” he asks.

I press my lips together. “Yes.”

“Good.”

And then it hits me. Jaxon doesn’t seem nervous at all. After all the worry of the past few weeks, he seems almost cheerful today, and I can’t figure out why.

I frown slightly, turning to face him fully. “Why are you in such a good mood?”

His brow lifts. “I’m in a good mood?”

“Yes,” I say immediately. “It’s suspicious.”

That earns me a real smile.