Page 10 of One Good Puck (Denver Bashers #5)

Gavin

A bby walks over to the stool, and I fish out the poached eggs and set them on a plate lined with paper towels. The English muffins pop out of the toaster a minute later, right as the bacon finishes cooking.

I place the toasted English muffins on a plate, set two slices of bacon on each half, then top both of them with a poached egg.

When I set the plate in front of Abby along with a fork and knife, her eyes are bright and she’s smiling. Like I just whipped up a Michelin-starred meal and not the easy go-to meal that I’ve made for myself a million times.

“I should have you throw your protein shake at me every morning,” she jokes.

I burst out laughing, then quickly stop myself. “Sorry, I don’t wanna wake Emma.”

Abby waves a hand. “You won’t. She sleeps like a log.”

“Good to know. Coffee?”

“Yes, please. And maybe some hot sauce?”

“You got it.” I grab a bottle of Cholula from the fridge and hand it to her, then get started brewing a pot of coffee.

Abby hums as she digs into breakfast. “This is so good.”

“You think so?”

She nods and finishes half of the open-faced breakfast sandwich. I pour her a big mug of coffee.

“How do you take it?” I ask.

“Just black. Thanks so much,” she says when I set it down next to her plate.

I lean on the counter across from her with my own cup of coffee.

“You don’t want any breakfast?” she asks me.

I shake my head. “I’m not hungry in the mornings. A protein shake is about all I can handle.”

She smiles as she chews. When she looks up at me, she stops chewing, her gaze fixed on my chest. Her eyes widen the slightest bit. A second later, she looks back down at her food. And that’s when I notice a hint of pink on her cheeks.

Is she embarrassed? Not sure why. We joked about bumping into each other earlier, and now we’re all good, at least I thought so.

I’m confused until it dawns on me. Does Abby…like seeing me shirtless? Is she…attracted to me?

The realization hits like a ton of bricks. I’m a lot older than her—like, more than sixteen years older than her. No way would she think I’m hot.

But then I notice how she looks up again at my bare chest. This time, her gaze lingers. Slowly, she scans up my torso, then back down again before studying her almost empty plate.

Oh, shit. I think Abby likes seeing me without a shirt on.

I guess I was wrong. She just might be into older guys.

My head swells with the nice little boost that sends to my ego. I start to grin, but then I quickly rein it in .

You’re not allowed to think about that, remember? So what if she likes seeing you shirtless? Not like you can do anything about it. She’s your housemate. And friend. Nothing more.

“Can I make you another?” I ask when her plate is empty.

She shakes her head, then smiles at me. “I’m perfect. Thank you, Gavin. That was really sweet of you to cook me food.”

“It was no problem. I was happy to.”

She cups her hands around her coffee mug and looks down at it.

“I can’t remember the last time someone made me breakfast. I’m usually the one cooking breakfast for Emma.

Which I’m more than happy to do,” she says.

“It’s just been years since another adult has cooked for me.

Single parent life, you know? It felt really special. ”

When she looks up at me, she looks so happy. So grateful. Like this small gesture of breakfast means everything to her. It makes my heart ache.

Because I know what she means. I know how she feels.

I think back to all those years it was just Sophie and me after her mom passed away. All those breakfasts and lunches and dinners, just the two of us.

I nod at Abby. “I get what you mean. You get so used to cooking for just you and your kid for years and years, that when another adult cooks for you, it feels like Christmas morning.”

She chuckles. “Exactly.”

She stands up and grabs her empty plate, but I shake my head. “Leave it. I’ll get it.”

She hesitates for a second.

“I’m serious, Abby. Just sit there and enjoy your coffee. I’ll clean up later.”

She smiles. “So do you always go jogging at dawn?”

“Only in the spring and summer. And early fall.”

She chuckles. “So only, like, most of the year?”

“Okay, yeah, I guess that sounds like a lot. I enjoy it, though. Helps me feel energized for the day.”

“That’s impressive because if I had to get up and go running before dawn and then take care of Emma, and then go to work, I’d feel like a zombie for the rest of the day.”

“I didn’t do this when Sophie was little. I started it when she was a teenager and didn’t need me to do as much for her.”

We sip our coffee in comfortable silence for a minute.

“This is nice, chatting with you at the start of the day,” she says.

“Yeah. It is.”

“I feel like we haven’t seen much of each other since Emma and I moved in.”

“Told you I’d be pretty scarce around here during the season.”

“Well, that and I’ve been trying not to get in your way. I want to make sure we’re not bothering you when you’re home.”

“Abby. You don’t need to hide from me. You live here too. You have a right to be in every space you want.”

Her big hazel-green eyes are warm as she looks at me. “Thanks. Seriously, thank you for everything.”

“Do me a favor? Stop thanking me.”

She lets out a flustered laugh.

“I mean it. I’m happy to have you and Emma here. It’s nice not to be alone in this big house. And I hope it’s okay for me to say this, but having Emma here reminds me of when Sophie was little. It’s fun having her around. She’s so happy and excited. ”

Abby’s quiet for a second. “Really?”

I nod.

Her smile is relief and joy all at once. “Okay. Th?—”

She catches herself and laughs. I do too.

“So, have you scribbled anymore masterpieces on napkins?” I ask.

“The other day, I drew a sunrise on a notepad during a very boring faculty meeting.”

I smile. I think about when she mentioned how she planned to go to art school, but life got in the way. I wanted to ask what she meant, but I could tell from the flash of sadness in her eyes that it was something serious, so I stopped myself. I didn’t want to pry if it was painful.

“If you ever want a quiet space to sketch or draw, you’re more than welcome to use the guesthouse,” I say.

Her eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I hardly ever use the guest house. I was going to use it as my home office, but I changed my mind when I remembered how lazy I am during the winter,” I say. “No way am I walking out there when it’s snowing or freezing out.”

“Okay. I might take you up on that.”

I check the time on the microwave. “I should get ready for work.”

“And I should probably get started on those muffins.”

I grab her empty plate and set it in the dishwasher. She hops up, grabs ingredients from the pantry, and sets them on the counter.

“Emma’s going to love having this for breakfast.” She nods at the poached eggs, bacon, and English muffins on the counter. “She thinks poached eggs are fancy food.”

I chuckle. “Happy to cook it for you both any time you want it. ”

“Thank you.”

I raise my brow at her, but she just smiles at me and shakes her head.

“I want to say it because I mean it. And because I’m all about teaching my kid manners, and what kind of mom would I be if I didn’t say thank you when it needed to be said?”

I chuckle. “Fair point. Have a good day, Abby.”

“You too.”

When I turn around and head for my bedroom upstairs, I catch Abby’s eyes on my chest once more before she quickly looks away. The whole rest of the morning, I’m grinning.