Page 16 of Fixing to Be Mine

I graciously move forward and take his offer.

“Creamer in the fridge.”

“Thank you,” I say, pouring it into the mug. I immediately blow on it. “No cream. I like my coffee black.”

“Oh, so it’s like that?” he asks, his eyes lingering on my mouth.

“I guess it is,” I say.

“You know what they say about women who drink their coffee black.” He sets a paper towel on top of the plate and places bacon onto it.

“I don’t actually.” I take a sip, realizing how damn strong he made it.

“Means you’re trouble,” he says. “Will give a man a run for his money.”

“Or a run for the hills,” I mutter.

He chuckles, and I like the sound of it.

“How do ya like your eggs?”

I take another sip of coffee. “I’m not picky. Surprise me.”

His brow lifts. I have to force my eyes away from him as he cracks eggs into the pan like it’s second nature. I drift toward the table, sliding into the nearest chair and pulling my knees upbeneath the T-shirt. The table’s old, worn smooth at the corners, with a thin crack running across the top, like it’s survived reconciliations and everything in between.

“Do you always do this?” I ask, watching the way he moves around without missing a beat.

“Cook?” he asks.

“Wake up with the sun and cook breakfast for strangers?”

His mouth twitches. “Only the ones who haven’t eaten a hot meal in over a day.”

“That’s not an answer,” I say.

“That’s not denial.” He flips the eggs, and a minute later, he’s sliding food in front of me with a fork. Seconds later, he’s delivering toast, butter, and grape jelly. “The answer is yes. I start my days early. I have a whole house to renovate. No time to be lazy.”

“You have work ethic. I like that.”

He looks like Clark fucking Kent, and I try my best not to stare.

“I think the longer you stay here, you’ll discover a lot more things about me that you like,” he says.

“Confident too,” I add as he makes his plate and joins me.

I pick up some bacon and take a bite. It’s crispy and smoky and exactly how I like it. “This is incredible.”

“I know,” he says. “Had you said it sucked, I’d have kicked you out.”

Laughter rolls out of me. “No, you wouldn’t have.”

He shoots me a wink. “I’d have considered it.”

This easygoing conversation knocks something loose in my heart, something that’s been held together by deflection and distance. I look away first.

“I appreciate all of this, but you don’t have to be nice to me,” I tell him.

He doesn’t rush to reply, and I brace for the awkwardness to thicken, but it doesn’t. He sits before me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

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