Page 69

I had half a mind to drop the towel and strut to the living room, demanding to finish what we’d started the night before. But then Hayes said, “Take your time. I’ll have breakfast ready out here when you are.”
Smiling to myself, I said, “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
We hung up, and I set my phone back down on the vanity, smiling at myself in the foggy mirror. For the first time in a relationship, I felt like I was with someone who truly listened. All it took was me saying I liked pancakes in the morning, and here he was with pancakes. I said helmets were safe, and I had a smarmy helmet pillow on my couch.
Relationships were a give and take, and Hayes seemed so much more focused on the giving part.
Eager to see him—and the breakfast he brought—I went through a quick morning routine, twisting my curls into a knot atop my head, putting on tinted sunscreen and mascara, and dressing casually in jeans and a T-shirt I’d gotten from donating in a blood drive.
When I came out of the bathroom, I could smell a mix of coffee and syrup, and my mouth watered. Then I rounded the corner and found Hayes setting the table for us.
A smile tilted my lips. Something about seeing him in my kitchen just felt right. “Hello, trouble,” I practically purred.
He glanced over his shoulder at me, blond hair falling across his forehead, and his smile could have competed with a sunrise. “Della.” The way he said my name had my heart turning to liquid gold.
He came to me, wrapping an arm around my waist and kissing me, the taste of coffee on his tongue. When we pulled apart, he nipped his nose over mine. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
Begrudgingly, I agreed.
There were two plates on the table with pancakes, bacon, and eggs, along with a bottle of syrup, two cups of steaming coffee, and silverware. “Hope you didn’t mind me going through your cabinets,” he said. “Thought you’d like this better than Styrofoam.”
I nodded, feeling seen again. “Thank you.”
We both sat at the table, and I took a bite of pancake, immediately recognizing them as coming from Woody’s Diner. “So good,” I said.
He smiled. “Just missing the cuddles.”
With a chuckle, I said, “Guess you can’t have it all.”
But then he scooted his chair closer to mine so our shoulders brushed.
My heart warmed again, and I dropped my head to his shoulder for a moment. “Perfect.”
He kissed the top of my head, completing the moment, and then we went back to eating our breakfast.
“So what’s on the agenda?” I asked. “You never said last night.”
“I didn’t, did I?” He shrugged, then drew a bite of pancake to his mouth.
I hit his shoulder, and he pretended to be wounded.
“Tell me,” I said with a laugh.
“It’s something I think we’ll both enjoy,” he finally replied.
Realizing he was just as stubborn as me, I gave up, eating my breakfast and sipping coffee instead. It felt nice to have him in my kitchen, seeing him first thing in the morning. It felt right, somehow.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.
I nodded. “Is it lame to say my bed felt lonely without you?”
He shook his head. “Not when I was thinking the same damn thing.”
The answer made me chuckle, and then I took my last bite of breakfast, feeling full. I made to get up and clear my spot, but Hayes said, “Let me.” He took my plate and his, clearing them in the trash and then handwashing them in the sink and putting them in the strainer. I stared at him, so impressed.
Was he naturally this thoughtful? Or was this him putting his best foot forward?