- Margot -
smelled crispy bacon before I opened my eyes but was convinced it was only a dream…until I stretched my leg out and noticed it didn’t hit a wall.
In the next instant, my eyes popped open and I was shaken by a flash of memories, as if my brain had been cued up to download last night’s events upon my waking.
I smiled when I registered the satisfying soreness between my legs. Landon. He’d finally made a woman out of me like I always wanted him to, and it was better than I ever dreamed it could be.
I rolled my head towards his side of the bed, and his absence led my attention to the cracked bedroom door. The sound of a sizzle followed, proving the yummy smells I’d noticed hadn’t been imagined.
My stomach growled as I sat up, pulling the thin sheet with me. I tucked it under my armpits and reached forward to smooth his light comforter back over the bed. “Morning,” I said, my first word of the day coming out a bit scratchy.
Landon appeared at the door in nothing but his boxers, and I found myself momentarily mesmerized by the sight of his strong thighs.
“Morning,” he said, calling my attention back up to his face. “How did you sleep?”
“Wonderfully.” I leaned into the pillows behind me. “You?”
“Best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time.”
My eyes smiled.
“Hungry?” he asked, his expression full of hope.
“Something tells me it would be a mistake to say no.”
“Is that a yes?”
I nodded.
“In that case, don’t move,” he said. “Your breakfast in bed is on its way.”
“You don’t have to bring it to me. I should get up.”
“I disagree. My bed has never looked better.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you insist.”
“I do,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.
The sound of cupboards opening and closing followed, and I looked around his tidy bedroom, admiring the blue color palette I’d failed to appreciate the night before. I didn’t know if he chose it, but I thought it suited him either way, and I liked the simple white and gray accent pieces he’d picked to match, most of which looked like they came right out of an Ikea catalogue.
The only obvious personal effects included the gym bag by his closed closet doors, and his bookshelf, which was stacked mostly with biographies of elite athletes and historical figures. However, on the second shelf from the top, two framed pictures caught my eye.
One was of him as a young boy sitting at the end of a narrow dock beside his dad, each of them poised with rod in hand as if they didn’t know it was being taken. The other was of him as a teenager the year he came down to Florida with my family for spring break.
I had to squint to see it from the bed, but it only took me a moment to recognize the photo. It was the one where we all looked the same height at first glance because I was in the middle with my arms around Landon and Matt’s shoulders, but my feet were half a foot off the ground. Meanwhile, the three of us were bookended by my mom, who was wearing the big sun hat that always made her feel like a celebrity, and my dad, who was rocking a stripe of zinc on his nose and a criminally high sock tan.
I was still smiling at the picture when Landon came in with a tray of food and headed over to my side of the bed.
“Breakfast is served,” he said.
My heart skipped a beat as I took in the glorious feast he’d prepared. There was a glass of orange juice and a cup of steaming tea in one corner of the tray. Opposite that was a small plate covered in extra-crispy bacon. Finally, the large plate in the middle was covered to its edges by a fresh Belgian waffle, which was dusted with powdered sugar and piled high with freshly sliced strawberries on a bed of whipped cream. “Wow.”
“Bon appétit,” he said, heading back to the kitchen.
“You didn’t have to fire up the waffle iron for me,” I called after him.
“It was no trouble,” he said, coming back in with a tray for himself that looked almost the same except his waffle had a fraction of the fruit.
“Did you have all this stuff on hand?” I asked, sliding my silverware from the paper towel he’d wrapped it in.
“Most of it,” he said, setting his tray on the other side of the bed before climbing up next to it.
He looked good enough to eat without his shirt on, but I wasn’t about to waste the feast he’d so thoughtfully prepared, especially when the mere sight of him was enough to stoke my already healthy appetite. “And the rest?”
“There’s a gourmet grocery store downstairs.”
I studied his bed head. “You don’t look like someone who’s been out shopping.
“If you’re a resident here, you get free five-minute delivery.”
“Oh, of course. Silly me. I’m sure I have the same in my building and just haven’t realized it yet.”
He smiled and passed me a little cup of syrup.
“Thanks.” I took it and drizzled zigzags across my waffle. “I could get used to this,” I said, passing it back so he could do the same.
“Well, I’d love an excuse to get the waffle iron out more,” he said, catching my eye.
There was a strange tension between us, like much was being left unsaid. Yet words seemed inadequate. So for a while, we simply ate in silence, surrounded by a sexual energy that was so apparent it was amusing.
“This is delicious,” I said finally, meaning it in more ways than one.
“I’m glad.”
“Good thing I didn’t wake up first,” I said, taking a big bite.
He raised his eyebrows.
“We’d be having burnt toast.”
He laughed. “As long as it’s generously buttered, I wouldn’t turn it down.”
“Good to know.”
“So do you have any plans for today?”
“Not really,” I said. “Besides not pinching myself.”
He smirked and took a sip of orange juice.
“My roommate has a matinee, so I’ll probably just chill at home and—”
“Have you been to see her show yet?”
I shook my head and shoved a forkful of strawberries in my mouth.
“You want to check it out?”
I covered my mouth. “Today?”
He shrugged. “If you like.”
A warmth spread through my chest as I swallowed.
“I realize the normal thing to do would be to play it cool, not call you for a few days, and let you wonder if I even want a second date.”
I held my breath.
“But I was thinking we could just skip that crap and enjoy a nice Saturday together.”
“I’d like that,” I said, agreeing it would seem silly to part ways and spend the whole day thinking about each other when we could be holding hands in a dark theater. Plus, seeing Izzy’s show would be way more fun with company.
“Great. I haven’t been to a show in ages. I’m looking forward to it.”
“It should be good,” I said, plucking a piece of bacon from my side plate and dipping it in some whipped cream. “Izzy makes me read all her good reviews anyway, and there are always new ones.”
“And if it’s crap, I can help you think of nice things to say about it.”
I cocked my head. “That is so thoughtful.”
“Speaking of thoughtful, it seems like I underestimated how much whipped cream you could eat.”
Before I could wave his observation away, he’d already left for the kitchen.
I took the can from him when he came back and added a swirl to my plate. “Is this a new can?”
He nodded.
I grinned.
“Why are you making that face?”
“Because I can’t believe my luck.”
He narrowed his eyes at me.
“I mean, here I am trying to think of ways to burn off this big breakfast, and suddenly I’m naked in your bed with a full can of whipped cream.”
“Careful now,” he said, his mouth twitching towards a smile. “I just changed these sheets two days ago. If you spill whipped cream anywhere it shouldn’t be, I’ll have no choice but to clean it up right away.”
“In that case, I’ll be very careful where I put it.”
“Sounds like you have some ideas already,” he said, clenching his jaw and forgetting his breakfast.
I pressed my lips together and turned the can over in my hands. “One or two.” When I lifted my eyes, he was staring at me like a hungry wolf.
“Show me,” he said.
So I did.