Page 7 of Stalking His Target

I nod, stretching my arms by my sides, then twirl in place, causing the shirt I’m wearing to spin like a dress. “Like my new fashion?”

“I’m a fan.” He smiles. Yeah, we’re actually flirting this time. No question. And it feels so natural. Taylor has me feeling so at ease that I’m not even nervous. I’m in his huge sweats and enormous tee and have a bad case of bed-head, but I’m totally relaxed. I don’t feel the need to try to impress him. I only met him last night, and I already feel like we’ve been dating for years.

“Hungry?” he asks. “I’ve got bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, strawberry jam, several types of tea: mint, jasmine, English breakfast–”

“I’m sorry–what?” My mouth hangs open as I watch him scoop eggs onto plates. Is this guy screwing with me?

“What?”

“Do you read minds?” I ask.

Taylor laughs and tongs the bacon from the frying pan. “Not last time I checked, no. Why?”

I move right up to his side, trying not to lose myself in his delicious scent.

“Because you’re making theexactmeal I eat pretty much every morning.”

Taylor smirks as he grabs the toast from the toaster. “Am I now?”

“Scrambled eggs, bacon, two slices of toast with strawberry jam and English breakfast tea.”

“Well, I’m a fan too. I guess we’ve got some things in common, sweetheart.”

I’m about to lose it. My ovaries are screaming again.

Breed me, big man. Breed me.

“That must be it…” I mutter.

“How else could I know?” he asks. “I’m an actual mind-reader?”

I smile and offer to take the plates to the table, but Taylor insists. He then goes back for the tea and cups and also a carton of orange juice “just in case.”

I watch his strong neck move as he eats and try to calm my bouncing leg as shameful thoughts invade my mind. I do my best, but after a minute or two, I can’t help myself.

“So where’d you learn to be a gentleman like this?” I ask. “Trained by your ex?”

Taylor chuckles and quickly shakes his head. “Only thing that filly taught me was how to run for my life.”

I can’t help but laugh, but then I remember her photo from last night, and a pang of jealousy stabs me in my stomach.

I shouldn’t ask. But I have to.

“Why’d you two break up? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Taylor shrugs. “We were just oil and water, you know? She’d wanna go left, I’d wanna go right. Never could agree on anything.”

“So how’d you get together in the first place?”

What a dumb question. You know the answer to that.

He shakes his head. “Thinking with the wrong organ, I guess.”

Again, my stomach sinks. I know he’s had girlfriends. Probably tons of them. But hearing about it has my jealousy on a high simmer.

“Not the best foundation for a relationship,” I say and instantly regret it. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you’re right.” Taylor smiles. “You know she wanted an ‘open relationship’ near the end?”

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