Page 6 of Glacial Mountain Man
"That's not good for you. You need fuel to start your day. I'm sure your job's demanding."
I sat back and thought about that. This guy had been in the military. Shelving books and talking to customers was hardly labor-intensive. Not compared to the physical demands of boot camp, anyway.
"I guess I got used to it when I was a kid," I said as Tank cracked eggs into a bowl. "My parents were both collegeprofessors. Mornings were chaos. They'd be rushing to their eight o'clock classes while I was hurrying to get ready for school. Breakfast was whatever I could grab on my way out the door."
"Granola bars?" he asked.
I couldn’t see his hands from here, but from the sound of things, he was whisking the eggs with more force than necessary. Theswish-swish-swishof the beater against the bowl was almost relaxing, it was so rhythmic.
"Pretty much,” I said. ”An apple if I was lucky. They meant well. They'd tell me to eat something substantial, but there was never time."
He poured the eggs into a hot pan and moved to the fridge to grab something. Within seconds, the smell was making my stomach growl loud enough that he looked over his shoulder at me.
"When's the last time someone made you breakfast?"
The question caught me off guard. “I…I don't know. Maybe when I was in high school?”
Something shifted in his expression. "That's a damn shame."
He plated the scrambled eggs alongside toast and bacon, setting it in front of me with the same efficiency he'd shown last night. Everything looked perfect, like something from a restaurant.
"This is incredible," I said after the first bite. "Thank you."
“It’s just eggs."
"No, it's not just eggs. Nobody's ever…” I trailed off, realizing how pathetic that sounded.
"Nobody's ever what?"
"Taken care of me like this." Heat rose in my cheeks. "I mean, my parents love me, but they're academics. Very focused on intellectual pursuits. Household chores were more of an afterthought."
Tank sat across from me with his own plate, studying my face. "What about boyfriends?"
The question hit like a punch to the gut. "What about them?"
"Any of them ever make you breakfast? Take care of you?"
I focused on cutting my eggs into perfect squares. "I went to an all-girls prep school. There weren't a lot of opportunities to meet guys."
"And after graduation?”
"By then it was…complicated." I set down my fork and met his eyes. "I'm twenty-three years old, Tank. Most guys my age expect experience I don't have."
Understanding dawned in his dark eyes, followed by something that looked like heat. "Experience?"
"I've never…” I took a breath. "I'm a virgin."
The words hung in the air between us. Tank went very still, his coffee mug halfway to his lips.
"That’s why you're single?"
"Part of it. It becomes this big thing, you know? The longer you wait, the more pressure there is. And then guys either run away or they want to be your 'first,’ like it's some kind of trophy." I pushed eggs around my plate. "Neither option is particularly appealing."
"What would be appealing?"
The question was quiet, but there was an edge to his voice that made my pulse quicken. I looked up to find him watching me with an intensity that stole my breath.
"Someone who doesn't make it a big deal," I said softly. "Someone who just cares about making it good."
