AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Do you?” he asks. And there’s light in his eyes. Like he’s got a secret.
I frown.
“Don’t overthink it, little bunny. Just enjoy.”
“If you knew me you’d know I overthink everything,” I joke, then get up and go back to the fridge to fetch the cream for my coffee. I add sugar and cream to my mug, stir it, then bring it to the table.
He’s poured me a glass of orange juice and is digging into his breakfast.
After my second bite of eggs, I wipe my mouth.
“Seriously, Derek. How did you know I like marble toast and raspberry jam?”
“Don’t believe in coincidences, obviously,” he states.
I take a sip of my coffee and study him for a moment.
He smiles and takes a bite of buttered toast.
No jam on his toast. This jam was bought for me.
“Alannah didn’t contact you? Or stop by last night after I fell asleep to drop off breakfast supplies?”
“Is that something she’d do?” he asks with twinkling eyes.
Ah. That’s it.
“Absolutely, she would.”
His smile widens.
I roll my eyes and slather jam on my second piece of toast.
Turns out I’m hungry after all. We eat in silence. I’m mostly checking out the view from his windows and thinking about my exit plan. About what I need to say. This isn’t exactly an easy conversation for me. I’m a novice. If I’m going to do things like this in the future, I need to be clear and concise about what I want, what my rules are, including no hickeys.
Am I going to do this in the future?
He’s done eating first, still sipping his coffee and watching me as I finish my breakfast. When I’m done with my last bite of toast, he rises and takes my plate.
“I’ll clean up,” I offer.
“No need,” he says. “Relax and drink your coffee. You want some music or the news, or… round three?”
I chuckle. “I think it’d be a lot bigger of a number than three, but actually, I need to get going.”
“Your clothes are still in the washer. Should be ready for the dryer now. I’ll go do the switch. You’re here at least another half hour, my guess.”
I wag my finger at him. “Fine. But I’ll do the dishes.”
“There’s a dishwasher. Don’t worry about it.” He disappears down the hallway.
I eyeball my bag and ponder checking my phone. I decide to wait until I’m out of here.
He’s back and he’s now in a pair of trackpants that sit low on his hips. Still no shirt. He turns the stereo on low. A Jackson 5 song plays as he grabs our coffee mugs from the dining table, takes them to the matching coffee table, and pats the couch beside him. I’m still behind the kitchen island, wiping down his stove, so I rinse the cloth, wring it out, and drape it over the ledge between the double sinks.
His eyes are on me with intensity as I dry my hands and move to the couch, tugging the back of his sweater down to cover my butt before I sit.
I twist sideways to face him, adjusting the shirt so that I’m not flashing him indecently.
