Page 37 of Love By a Landslide

With a big yawn, she asked, “Coffee?”

“First cup brewed just for you.”

“Mmmm. I thought I smelled it.” The slight gravelly tone of her voice sent a tingle up his spine. There was something impossibly seductive about a woman who had just woken up. To Jonathan, mornings were inherently sexy. He appreciated the warmth of the rising sun on his skin. He liked how his thoughts were still foggy, unbothered by the worries of the coming day. And, of course, there was nothing better than a satisfied lover draped across his chest, eyes full of suggestions for how to spend the early hours.

But Jonathan hadn’t woken up next to a woman in years, and the last time had been with Cynthia. He wasn’t celibate, but he sure as hell kept things casual. Opting for flings that ended before breakfast was preferred to a strings-attached relationship. He wasn’t a dog chasing all the tail in town; he just didn’t want anyone to get invested. There was too much responsibility. Too much risk.

And Lucy oozed relationship material.

There was no way she’d be down for a one-night stand. To be honest, Jonathan wouldn’t be satisfied with that kind of arrangement either. One night with her wouldn’t do. He could tell from that single kiss the afternoon before and the electric current that flowed when he touched her that he would become irrevocably addicted.

Keep your distance. Keep your distance.

Jonathan repeated the mantra under his breath and walked back over to the fire to stir the contents of the skillet. His stomach growled, redrawing his focus to the morning routine. At home, he would never dream of making powdered eggs for breakfast, but somehow, cooking them over a fire in a beautiful campsite always made his mouth water.

Lucy emerged from her tent, wild hair tumbling loose around her shoulder, cheeks rosy, and a sleepy grin on her face.

Speaking of mouth-watering . . .

Jonathan swallowed the lump in his throat and averted his eyes. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock,” Lucy said with another yawn, rubbing her eyes. “You?”

“Uh, same,” he replied with a tight-lipped grin. Lies. He may have been rock-hard but he sure didn’t sleep like one. “Breakfast will be ready in five if you want to handle morning . . . ah . . . things . . .”

Recognition dawned, and a smirk spread across her face. “Everyone pees, Jonathan. We’re lost in the woods together. I don’t think it’s necessary to try and keep up pretenses.”

“Fair.”

Lucy visited the privy, washed up in the creek, then moseyed back to the fire. She happily accepted the offered mug.

“Do you want anything in your coffee?” Jonathan asked.

“Sacrilege.” She pretended to clutch imaginary pearls around her neck then chuckled. “I take my instant coffee straight up. It smells amazing.”

He nodded at her appraisal. Black coffee was his preference too. No fuss, no muss. “You’re welcome. My sister talked me into having some packets of sugar and that god-awful powdered creamer on hand for customers. She says not everyone’s a motor-oil-drinking heathen like me.” He gave a snort and shook his head.

“Well, you’re in good company. Aside from a customary pumpkin spice latte or two in the fall, of course.” Lucy took a small sip, testing the temperature. Her eyelids fluttered as she took a larger gulp. “Is your sister older or younger?”

“Frankie is the epitome of a bratty little sister.”

“As a younger sister myself”—Lucy laid a hand over her heart and gave a mischievous grin—“I’m compelled to ask for an example.”

“Sure,” Jonathan said with a laugh. He thought for a moment, unsure whichespecially Frankieantic to share. He went with the most recent. “Sometimes she offers to pick up a coffee for me when she knows I have a lot of work to do.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.”

“It would be if she ever got me a basic drip coffee. Instead, she shows up every time with some ridiculous sugar bomb. You know, the kind with buckets of whipped cream and sprinkles allover it.”

Lucy clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re the kinda guy who worries that something like that threatens his masculinity.”

Jonathan shook his head. “Ha. Not at all, I strut around the office with the damn thing to show her she can’t get a rise out of me. But I do dread the inevitable sugar crash that comes later.”

Eyeing him up, Lucy waggled a finger at him. “I bet you love those drinks, don’t you?” She nibbled on her lower lip to suppress a wider grin. Her nose crinkled in a teasing way. Subtle playfulness bordered on flirtation.

Jonathan’s heart beat faster and a touch harder.

What had she asked? Oh, right.

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