toast, and Britt’s centerpiece, bacon. “This all looks amazing. Thank you.”
“I’m the one thanking you,” Britt said. “Now, eat.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I tucked into my plate, starting with the omelet. “This is probably the best omelet I’ve ever eaten.”
“Told you I can cook,” Britt said. “Try the coffee.”
I did, and was amazed at the black silk that washed over my tongue. “Did you go out for new coffee?” I asked. “I don’t have anything that tastes this good.”
“Actually, you do,” Britt said, then she leaned forward and whispered, “I fixed your coffee.”
“You surely did.” I took another sip. “You going to share your secret with me?”
“Only after you’ve cleaned your plate.”
I followed her orders, not that it was a hardship to eat such an excellent meal. Once we were both done, I took our plates to the sink, then I glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even five a.m. “You know, I usually don’t wake up for another two hours,” I said.
“That just means we can have second breakfast later on,” Britt said. She rose and poured another cup of coffee; while her back was to me, she said, “I’m sorry for doing all of this so early. I just wanted to thank you, for, you know, earlier.”
“I know.”
“I mean it’s hard—so frickin’ hard—being alone in the city, and I don’t have a lot of people I can lean on, but then I met you and you’ve just been so awesome—”
She spun to face me, spilling coffee on herself in the process. Britt yelped and I leapt into action, grabbing a towel and soaking it in cold water before pressing it to her thigh.
“Hold that,” I said, putting her hand on top of the wet towel. I dashed into the bathroom and grabbed my first aid kit, rifling through it until I found the burn cream. I rushed back to the kitchen and knelt before Britt, flinging the towel aside as I spread the burn cream across her pink flesh.
“Sam.”
I looked up and saw her smiling at me. “What?”
“It was just coffee,” she said, working her fingers into my hair.
“Well, I don’t want it to scar,” I muttered, then resumed applying the burn cream. “Could impact the modeling gigs you’re offered.”
“Mmm.”
I glanced up at Britt and her wry smile, and realized that I’d shoved her thighs apart and had wedged myself between them. And that burn was awful close to an area of hers I had no business visiting. I stood, coughing to cover my embarrassment. “Sorry.”
“S’okay. I like that you’re concerned.”
“Are you, now?” I glanced at the clock; it still wasn’t five. “Sorry I got you up so early. You have a lot planned for today?”
“Actually, I have nothing today except for Michael’s opening. You?”
“I have to be at the studio by nine.”
“Oh, you should probably catch some sleep,” Britt said. “I can go—”
I grabbed her wrist. “You’re right about us getting some rest, and you can stay.” Truth be told I was bushed, and my bed was calling me in a profound way. “Want to take a nap together?”
“Sam, you just drank half a pot of coffee,” Britt protested.
“After a run,” I clarified. “I should probably recharge before work.”
Britt nodded, then she dropped her gaze. “I don’t want to impose.”
“Darlin’, I made you come here with me. There is no imposition, except on my part.” I moved closer and took her hands in mine. “What do you say, darlin’? Feel like taking a nap with me?”
Britt looked at me from beneath her lashes. “I can do that.”
I smiled, then tugged Britt out of the kitchen. I tried bringing her to the bedroom, but my nightmares wouldn’t allow that just yet; I wondered if they ever would. Since collapsing in a weepy mess would likely ruin our morning, I led Britt back to the living room couch instead of my bed. I laid down first, then she fit herself against me while I yanked the blanket up to our chins.
“You’re like an octopus,” I said, shifting
“I’m the one thanking you,” Britt said. “Now, eat.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I tucked into my plate, starting with the omelet. “This is probably the best omelet I’ve ever eaten.”
“Told you I can cook,” Britt said. “Try the coffee.”
I did, and was amazed at the black silk that washed over my tongue. “Did you go out for new coffee?” I asked. “I don’t have anything that tastes this good.”
“Actually, you do,” Britt said, then she leaned forward and whispered, “I fixed your coffee.”
“You surely did.” I took another sip. “You going to share your secret with me?”
“Only after you’ve cleaned your plate.”
I followed her orders, not that it was a hardship to eat such an excellent meal. Once we were both done, I took our plates to the sink, then I glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even five a.m. “You know, I usually don’t wake up for another two hours,” I said.
“That just means we can have second breakfast later on,” Britt said. She rose and poured another cup of coffee; while her back was to me, she said, “I’m sorry for doing all of this so early. I just wanted to thank you, for, you know, earlier.”
“I know.”
“I mean it’s hard—so frickin’ hard—being alone in the city, and I don’t have a lot of people I can lean on, but then I met you and you’ve just been so awesome—”
She spun to face me, spilling coffee on herself in the process. Britt yelped and I leapt into action, grabbing a towel and soaking it in cold water before pressing it to her thigh.
“Hold that,” I said, putting her hand on top of the wet towel. I dashed into the bathroom and grabbed my first aid kit, rifling through it until I found the burn cream. I rushed back to the kitchen and knelt before Britt, flinging the towel aside as I spread the burn cream across her pink flesh.
“Sam.”
I looked up and saw her smiling at me. “What?”
“It was just coffee,” she said, working her fingers into my hair.
“Well, I don’t want it to scar,” I muttered, then resumed applying the burn cream. “Could impact the modeling gigs you’re offered.”
“Mmm.”
I glanced up at Britt and her wry smile, and realized that I’d shoved her thighs apart and had wedged myself between them. And that burn was awful close to an area of hers I had no business visiting. I stood, coughing to cover my embarrassment. “Sorry.”
“S’okay. I like that you’re concerned.”
“Are you, now?” I glanced at the clock; it still wasn’t five. “Sorry I got you up so early. You have a lot planned for today?”
“Actually, I have nothing today except for Michael’s opening. You?”
“I have to be at the studio by nine.”
“Oh, you should probably catch some sleep,” Britt said. “I can go—”
I grabbed her wrist. “You’re right about us getting some rest, and you can stay.” Truth be told I was bushed, and my bed was calling me in a profound way. “Want to take a nap together?”
“Sam, you just drank half a pot of coffee,” Britt protested.
“After a run,” I clarified. “I should probably recharge before work.”
Britt nodded, then she dropped her gaze. “I don’t want to impose.”
“Darlin’, I made you come here with me. There is no imposition, except on my part.” I moved closer and took her hands in mine. “What do you say, darlin’? Feel like taking a nap with me?”
Britt looked at me from beneath her lashes. “I can do that.”
I smiled, then tugged Britt out of the kitchen. I tried bringing her to the bedroom, but my nightmares wouldn’t allow that just yet; I wondered if they ever would. Since collapsing in a weepy mess would likely ruin our morning, I led Britt back to the living room couch instead of my bed. I laid down first, then she fit herself against me while I yanked the blanket up to our chins.
“You’re like an octopus,” I said, shifting
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