Page 33 of Craved By the Mountain Man

“My face said your muffin yesterday was bullshit.”

I gasp.

“You leave that muffin out of this.”

He pulls out a cinnamon roll large enough to require its own mailing address and sets it on a plate.

Then another pastry.

Then another.

I stare.

“Are we feeding the entire mountain?”

“You need breakfast.”

“This is breakfast for a lumber crew.”

“Eat what you want.”

The words are familiar from last night.

So is the complete absence of judgment behind them.

I look down at the cinnamon roll.

Something twists under my ribs.

I reach for it.

The coffee maker finishes behind him.

Gavin takes down two mugs and pours.

I watch him add a little cream to one before placing it in front of me.

No sugar.

Exactly right.

My fingers stop around the handle.

“How did you know?”

Gavin looks at me.

“Know what?”

“How I take it.”

His expression barely changes.

“You drank it that way last time you were here.”

I stare at him.

“That was two years ago.”