Coffee was required first. Then another cup before I was truly functional. Otherwise, I was groggy and often grumpy. I started the espresso machine and then turned the coffee pot on. Monday through Sunday I needed two shots of espresso in my coffee. I realize that’s every day of the week, but it made me a nicer person.
I turned my head to stare at the fridge and wondered if it was overkill to make breakfast for Eli. Was it rude if I didn’t? I had stayed single so long, I was terrible at having men over. I’d forgotten what was the polite thing to do. I doubted Eli expected me to cook him anything but was that the point?
While I went about fixing my espresso, I asked myself did I like Eli enough to want him around a lot? Yes. Was I happy this morning waking up in bed with him? Yes. Did men like to eat food? Yes.
Once the espresso was brewing, I went over to the fridge and grabbed the bacon, eggs, and then reached into the freezer for the frozen biscuits. I was making the man breakfast. Great sex was not enough to keep him coming back. The thought made me laugh at myself. If he only knew how awkward I was, he’d rethink this. I kept my secret introverted issues undercover for the most part. I forced myself to act normal in public settings. When you have a younger sister like Phoenix that dominates a room and draws attention then soaks it up like a sponge it’s hard to embrace the fact you’re introverted, or you’ll always be overlooked.
Mom always said I was more like her than the other two, but my mother was not introverted. She was quiet and didn’t demand attention like Phoenix or fascinate people like Nate, but she had a certain beauty about her and not just her appearance. There was this inward beauty that lit up a place when she was there. Without words or actions, she became the focal point. I was not like my mother. My thoughts were not beautiful. Unlike my mother, I could be a selfish bitch.
I went to work heating up a pan to fry the bacon. While that was getting hot, I put the “made from scratch” frozen biscuits I’d bought from the grocery store on a cast iron skillet then stuck them in the oven. A complete cheat but they looked legit when they were done. I thought they tasted as good as Bliss’s homemade biscuits.
My coffee was ready, so I paused to pour a cup then turned back around to find Eli standing in the living area with nothing but those athletic shorts on. His long hair was messy and the artwork on his chest and arm was literally breathtaking. The way he looked would make any woman strip naked and beg him to fuck her. See . . . bad thoughts. So not like my momma.
“Bacon,” he said in a deep voice raspy from sleep. “My favorite smell to wake up to.”
My cheeks were heated. I knew it. But he was standing there with his bare chest and sexy hair making my body tingle. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I was trying to be quiet,” I said and grabbed the eggs to start cracking in a bowl. Anything other than looking at him like he was my breakfast. I needed to get control of my flushed face too. That was embarrassing.
“You didn’t. But if you had it would have been okay,” he replied and although I was studying the bowl and eggs like they were a science experiment, I could see him moving closer to the kitchen. Luckily his man smell would be covered by the bacon so my hormones wouldn’t go any more crazy. The sight of him was enough.
“I have to be downstairs by eight-thirty and I wanted to make sure you had breakfast, so I got started early,” I was rambling, but I continued. “We had a small break after the May recital, but the toddler summer camp classes are on Saturdays in June.”
He didn’t respond but walked around the counter and I glanced over to see him stop in front of the espresso machine and coffee pot. He met my gaze and raised his eyebrows as if confused. “Does this side make the coffee?” he asked.
I put the eggshell down on the paper towel then quickly washed my hands before going to help him. “This already has coffee made in it,” I explained, taking a mug out of the cabinet in front of him. “The other just makes espresso shots. Do you want a shot to go in your coffee?” I asked and was proud of the fact my cheeks weren’t pink anymore and I appeared relaxed.
“Uh, sure,” he said not sounding sure at all.