Wrapped Up in You (Heartbreaker Bay, #8)(16)

“And what’s that?”

“An apology for being . . . grumpy last night.”

“You weren’t.”

She gave him a get real look and he smiled. “Okay, maybe a little. But it was understandable. You’d just gotten an unfortunate and unfair surprise.” He gently tilted her face up to his. “You doing okay this morning?”

“Yes,” she said. “Of course.”

“Of course,” he repeated and shook his head. “Smart, tough, and resilient,” he murmured, his gaze on her face.

Now it was her turn to smile. “Some might say stubborn, impulsive, and doesn’t know when to quit.”

“Yeah,” he said. “But I find those things very attractive.”

Honestly, she didn’t know how to take half the things he said. They made her feel both terrified and exhilarated at the same time. “You’re a strange man.”

“So I’ve been told.” He looked over the food. “You poison any of it?”

“No, but only because I’d never waste food.” To prove it, she grabbed the fork she’d packed and took a bite of her eggs. “Mmm,” she moaned before she could stop herself, but hey, she’d worked out and been on the move ever since, and she was starving. Plus, she made damn good eggs if she said so herself.

Again their eyes met, and that now familiar spark went right through her. She wanted him. Quite badly, if her racing pulse meant anything. He was so . . . what, exactly? Steady? Tough? Intense and yet somehow easygoing, not to mention also extremely easy on the eyes?

“You didn’t have to cook something special for me,” he said, sounding touched.

“You helped me last night. I repay my debts.”

“I didn’t do it so you’d feel indebted to me,” he said and cocked his head as he studied her for a beat. “Someday you’re going to have to tell me about the apparent assholes who’ve been in your life to make you so wary of me.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. It’s not just you. And it wasn’t just me paying back a debt,” she admitted. “I wanted to cook for you.” And because that made his smile warm, which in turn made something inside her warm as well, she shrugged and backed up a few steps, needing breathing room. “I also wanted to thank you for your help,” she said, feeling annoyingly awkward as he shoved stacks of plans to one side of the table and started pulling everything else out of her bag with a deep male hum of pleasure when he caught sight of the pancakes.

“Are those blueberry?” he asked very seriously.

She nodded.

“Fair warning, if they’re as good as the eggs, I really am going to drop to my knees and ask you to marry me.”

That startled a laugh out of her. “Fair warning, if you drop to your knees, I’m going to use my considerable kickboxing skills on you.”

“Scared of marriage?” he asked.

She shrugged that off. “I’m not scared of much.”

“Everyone’s scared of something, Trouble.”

“Is that right?” She cocked her head. “Then what are you afraid of?”

His eyes shuttered and he diverted his attention to how he was carefully buttering his pancakes, like it was a very important job. “Lies.”

That had her silent for a beat. “You’ve been burned.”

“I have.” He drowned the pancakes in syrup and dug in. With a passionate sigh, he closed his eyes. “Oh my God.”

Good Lord, watching him eat was turning her on. “Good?”

Not opening his eyes, he shook his head and chewed, his expression saying he was in heaven. “I can’t talk right now. I’m having a sexual experience all by myself, just me and these pancakes.”

She laughed. “Take your time. Like I said, I just wanted to thank you.”

He took several more bites before saying anything more. “You thanked me last night,” he said.

“Yes, but I thought I’d try again without being a jerk.”

“Ivy. You weren’t.”

She gave him a long look.

“You were unnerved and maybe a little bit frightened,” he said softly. “Definitely not a jerk.” He kicked a chair away from the table, and then another, sitting in one and gesturing for her to sit in the other.

“Oh, I’m not staying.”

“Sit,” he said. “Please?”

Apparently she was a sucker for the please, because she sat and together they mowed their way through the food. “Amazing,” he said on a moan, eating with the same laid-back easiness he did everything else. “Been a long time since someone cooked for me.”

“No girlfriend?”

“Been a long time for that too.”

She smiled. “You expect me to believe a guy like you is celibate?”

“I didn’t say celibate.”

He laughed when she rolled her eyes. Okay, so he was seeing people. And why wouldn’t he be? Look at him.

“What did you mean, a guy like me?” he wanted to know.

She snorted. “Not touching that one, cowboy.”

He smiled, but it faded. “I’m not a good bet,” he finally said, answering her “no girlfriend” question. “Always on call, and the job comes first. Apparently, that’s annoying and frustrating, and I get it. My life hasn’t exactly lent itself to relationships.”