Page 29 of In Good Company

Her shoulders loosen as her lips turn up in a smile. Her eyes rake over the plates lined up on the counter. “I made bananas Foster waffles.”

“Did Jude request these?” I ask with a laugh.

Her perfect, plump lips part as her hand flies to her chest. “And why would you think that?”

“Jude would do questionable things for waffles. He used to beg our cooks at boarding school to put them on the menu every week.”

“Did he?” She’s a terrible actress. It’s obvious Jude got to her. She made bananas Foster waffles for him.

I scoff as I shake my head at her. “I can’t believe you made waffles for Jude.”

“Did you say my name?” Jude asks, strolling in from the side entrance.

I point at my best friend. “Your pockets are almost as deep as mine. Get your own private chef, and stop telling mine what you want to eat.”

The asshole snickers. He ignores my comment and walks straight to Lucy. “Did you really make me waffles, Luce?”

“Luce?” I don’t even bother to hide the jealousy in my voice at the nickname. Are they really to the point of using nicknames?

Jude wiggles his eyebrows at me before reaching across the counter and swiping a piece of banana from on top of one ofthe waffles.

“Hey!” Lucy scolds, playfully slapping Jude’s hand. “That one’s now yours.”

“I wanted that one. It’s the biggest.” He winks at her, and shockingly, for the first time in my life, I consider hitting my best friend.

“What’s going on here?” I ask accusingly. My gaze travels between my best friend and my private chef.

“We’re about to eat breakfast,” Lucy points out, my jealous tone going right over her head.

“Yeah, Cal, we’re about to eat breakfast.” Jude looks me up and down with a lifted brow. “You sure you don’t want to shower before eating?”

And leave the two of them alone together? Hell no.

“The food’s already done. I’ll shower after.”

“Do you want whipped cream?” Lucy asks, her doe eyes focusing on me. The question is asked so innocently. I really don’t think she even notices that the thing between her and Jude is rubbing me the wrong way.

“Uh, sure,” I stammer.

She walks to the fridge and pulls out a bowl before setting it on the counter. No one talks as she grabs a spoon from the utensil drawer and scoops a large dollop of what must be homemade whipped cream onto the waffle.

“I’d love some too,” Jude pipes up.

I toss an angry look his way, only making him grin harder.

“Is that enough?” Lucy asks me, gesturing to the large clump of whipped cream sitting on top of my waffle.

While she waits for me to answer, she spoons the whipped cream onto Jude’s waffle and what must be hers.

“Shoot,” she hisses, accidentally bumping her elbow against a discarded pan. The movement makes the heaping dollop of whipped cream splatter.

“I’ll clean it up, I promise,” she assures me anxiously, eventhough most of it is already covering her fingers holding the spoon.

Before I can say anything, she lifts her hand to her mouth and sucks the whipped cream from her finger. It feels like the air is sucked from my lungs, and I can’t breathe as I watch her tongue peek out to lick more of the whipped cream off her hand.

A strangled noise comes from my throat.

Lucy’s eyes go wide as her eyes meet mine. Her hand immediately drops to her side. “Oh my God. That was so unprofessional. I’m sorry. I’ll wash my hands.”

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