Page 68 of Thornhill Road

“Better,” he muttered.

I laughed softly before I asked, “You hungry?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“’Kay. We’re having breakfast for lunch,” I told him. Then I frowned, considering what I’d said. “Wait—that’s brunch. We’re having brunch,” I amended, maneuvering myself off the couch.

“Whatever you call it, get to it, sugar,” he replied, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

Twenty minutes later, I was practically giddy watching him shovel my banana pancakes into his mouth.

“MK would devour this,” he told me, pointing his fork at his plate.

I finished my bite then offered, “Maybe I could make them for her some time.”

“How ‘bout tomorrow?”

I smiled huge. “Okay.”

“Pack a bag. You’ll stay at my place tonight. We’ll pick her up mid-morning, spend the day. You’ve got dinner duty—or whatever the hell you call breakfast for dinner.”

My smile softened as he stuck his fork through a triple-stacked bite of pancake.

“Your place, as in—your house?”

It hadn’t escaped me that while he had constant access to my home, I’d only been to his place once—and that had been an emergency situation. He lived less than five minutes from Steel Mustang, but if we weren’t in my bed, we slept in his room at the clubhouse.

I’d never really read into it, until after I met Mary-Kate. Even then, I understood his home wasn’t justhisplace, it wastheirs. I respected that boundary wholeheartedly.

That also meant I felt the significance of his invitation now.

He quirked an eyebrow at me, his pending bite waiting in a puddle of syrup.

“Only room in the clubhouse I want you naked is mine. You want a shower you’ll do it at my place. No point in sleepin’ at the clubhouse if we’ll wind up under my roof anyway.”

Practicality aside, I still reveled in what our plans implied.

Before he could take his next bite, I dropped my fork, placed my hand at the back of his neck, and drew him to me for a kiss.

He didn’t resist.

He tasted like banana and maple syrup.

I had half a mind to abandon the rest of my meal in order to feast on him when he pulled away and said, “Gotta get that, sugar.”

It wasn’t until he spoke that I heard the vibration of his phone in his pocket.

I nodded as I let him go.

“Yeah?” he answered shortly.

I took my next bite, chewing slowly as I felt the shift in his demeanor.

He reached up and raked his fingers through his hair as he replied, “Need twenty minutes.”

Whoever he was speaking to responded, then Mustang disconnected without even a grunt of goodbye.

“Everything okay?”

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