Page 10 of Lovesick
“Good morning,” I said, gaze averted.
He paused. His gaze dropped to the semi-chaos around me. I prayed there wasn’t batter on my face.
“Are you...”
“Making you breakfast. I guarantee nothing. But I ... I wanted to do something nice for you. It’s poor thanks but...”
“It’s amazing.”
He blinked several times. His mouth parted as if he were about to say something, but then he stopped.
“I’m not great with a hot plate.” I grimaced. “But I think they’re edible.”
“I bet they’re the best I’ve tasted. Thank you. I can’t remember the last time someone else cooked around here. Did you sleep okay?”
“Better than in a freezing river.”
Mark’s barking laugh broke the still morning. “Good one,” he called from the attic. Footsteps thundered down the ladder.
He appeared, hand shoved through his shaggy hair, with a growl of frustration. His eyes were bright, face darkly stubbled. The usual intensity of his bright, ever-changing expression wasn’t dimmed by the early hour. Mark was quite handsome ... if you could get him to stop moving.
“Morning,” he sang in a grating operetta.
“You look like a bear,” JJ said.
Mark threw something at him as he walked past, clad in flannel pajama pants and an old race T-shirt that said,Tough Mudder. His broad shoulders filled it out. He disappeared into the bathroom.
Concern filled JJ’s expression. “You sleep all right?” he asked me.
“Yeah. Yes. I mean, in the light of day, it’s not all quite so overwhelming. And I’m alive, right? So I’m definitely okay.”
JJ glanced outside and grimaced. “The sort-of light of day.”
He pulled back repurposed pillowcases that doubled as drapes to reveal another foot of snow. I could just make out the Zombie Mobile coated so thick with white that it almost blended into the forest. Flurries whirled around it.
“Pretty cool storm, isn’t it?” he asked.
I had other opinions about extreme winter weather. “It’s something,” I muttered.
JJ laughed and stepped behind me, setting a hand on my shoulder as he pulled a cup out of a high cupboard. Was he always so touchy? I’d take it seven days a week. My heart woke up again at the heavy heat of his hand.
“It’s supposed to last through the day,” he said, “but without as much wind. I think it’ll taper off in the night. I bet the canyon opens back up in the morning if there aren’t any avalanches. Coffee?”
“Already going.” I pointed to the Keurig across the way. “Nowthatis one food I can make.”
“You’re a godsend.”
He squeezed my shoulder, then turned to the machine. There was no frisson of electricity that slid between us. No unreadable frown on his face as his skin touched mine. No small gasp that I tried to hide at the unexpected fireworks of his touch. But his firm hand on a cold winter day was comfort without words.
Mark hurried upstairs to the attic, phone already to his ear, while I finished the pancakes. JJ set out some faded plates and camping utensils. When we finally settled at the table with my almost-pancakes-mostly-crepe-looking-concoctions, Mark slid back down the ladder again and into the kitchenette with a whoop.
“I am the literal master of the universe. I figured it out, JJ. I did it!” Mark punched the air once, his expression taut with energy. “I know what I’m going to build on that lot I bought in Pineville last year.”
“What?”
“A spa.”
Mark stopped for a second to take in JJ’s reaction. When JJ’s face scrunched, Mark started to pace.
