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“Anything good?”

I reach for a piece of strawberry that he cut up for the waffles. “I can make a great cup of coffee, a killer lasagna, and a phone call to the local pizzeria.”

Alex chuckles. “Lasagna, huh?”

“It’s my mom’s specialty.” I think back to the eggplant lasagna Dad’s girlfriend made. A feel a heavy weight settle into my chest thinking about the wedge that day put between him and I. But he did that to himself, so I tell myself not to feel bad about it. “She taught me how to make it when I was little. Seb knows too.”

He makes a thoughtful noise. “I can’t say I’ve ever had much lasagna, but I’d be willing to give it a try.”

He starts plating our food, putting everything together exactly how it looks at the diners when I order it.

“You forgot the—” Before I can finish, he pulls the whipped cream out of the fridge and sprays it on top of my stack of cinnamon waffles with a smirk.

Then he pours me a drink that is far from a proportionate level of apple cider to champagne and slides it in front of me.

All I can do is stare between him and the food that looks droolworthy.

“What?” he asks.

I slowly shake my head. “Nobody has made me breakfast before.”

He’s quiet, causing me to look up at him.

His eyes are on mine. “I’m not always going to be the best at this, Olive. But I told you I want to try. So, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll make you breakfast as much as I can when we see each other.”

I already like the sound of that.

“And what do I need to do in return?” My brain goes to very dirty places. Places that I wouldn’t mind exploring outside of my conscious.

Alex leans forward, resting his arms on the counter so he’s inches from my face. Just when I think he’s about to tell me to do some of those delicious things to him that my mind is conjuring up, he says, “Make me your mom’s famous lasagna at least once. Maybe put on a pot of coffee for us once in a while when we wake up in the morning.”

One of my eyebrows goes up. “What about ordering DoorDash? I can’t guarantee you’ll like the lasagna, and I don’t know any other dishes that I won’t mess up.”

He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, and his light touch leaves a trail of fire in their wake. “I’m sure I’ll like it just fine.”

I don’t know why those words give me goosebumps, but they do. Big ones that are hard to miss if you look at my arms. But whatever. “I think I can make that happen,” I answer.

His knuckles graze my cheek before he stands up and gestures toward my food. “Good. Eat up. We’ve got a busy day ahead.”

My brows pinch. “What are we doing?”

“You’re coming with me to Lemieux.”

He says it so casually I almost miss it. Almost. “Lemieux? As in, the sports complex? The one your team practices at?”

Alex loads up his plate and nods. “That’s the one. I already told Clarkson I was swinging by. We won’t see their whole practice because I’m not a masochist, but we’ll see the end of it.”

He’s taking me to meet his team?

“Jesse Clarkson, as in your captain?”

“Yes.”

“Belle’s brother?”

“Stepbrother,” he corrects, “but yes.”

I wet my lips. “Why?”