“You too,” she murmurs.
I lean down and brush my lips over hers. “Ready for today?”
“I think so. I’m not sure if Angelina’s back yet.”
Frowning, I glance toward the front door. Shit, totally forgot Angelina was staying with Shelby.
“She wanted to give us privacy,” Shelby explains.
“Good call.”
I release her and she sets the table for us while I finish making breakfast.
“Bacon and eggs?” Her eyes widen as I drop a few crispy slices on her plate.
“One thing I can reliably make.”
“Hmm.” She watches me with a thoughtful expression while munching on a slice of bacon. “Good to know. I’m used to eating at work. Or my momma cooks for us. Sorry to say, I never paid a lot of attention in the kitchen. I make great cheeseburgers and can throw together some nice summer salads, sweat tea, and simple stuff like that…” Her voice trails off.
“Are you auditioning to be my chef or something?” I sit in the chair across from her.
“Well,” she glances at her plate and pokes at her scrambled eggs, “we talked about living together…”
“We’re both adults. I’m sure we can figure out how to feed ourselves.”
“Aren’t you used to the girls at the clubhouse cooking for you and stuff?”
I pin her with a hard stare. “You’re not a club girl.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” She drums her fingers over the table, clearly annoyed with me. “I’m trying to discuss the division of labor like an adult.”
My own temper flares. I open my mouth, then close it as her words sink in. Didn’t she tell me her dad was a lazy piece of shit who came home from work and expected to be waited on?
“Hey.” I reach across the table and rest my hand over hers. “I’m not a ‘fetch me a beer’ kind of guy.” I tap my fork against the edge of my plate. “I’m a grown-ass man who can feed myself if I’m hungry.” I brush my knuckles over her cheek. “Who also wants to take care of his woman when she’s had a long day.”
She ducks her head, a shy smile spreading over her face. “You make my girly bits tingle every time you call me your woman in that way.”
I fight my own smile. “What way is that?”
“A little bit sweet. A little bit savage. Like you might toss me over your shoulder and carry me back to your cave.”
She’s totally serious and probably not far off the mark. I bite the inside of my cheek and try not to laugh. “I’m not an asshole looking for a mommy or a bangmaid, Shelby. I’m not a slob, either. I don’t think we’ll have issues dividing the labor.”
While I’m mildly annoyed she’s worried about me turning into a jerk just because we’re living together, I respect the fuck out of her for wanting to discuss our expectations ahead of time. All I care about is spending every second with her. She’s trying to make sure we’re both happy. We’re a damn good team.
“Hello!” The front door thunks shut. “Yoohoo! Is it safe to come in?”
“We’re in the kitchen!” Shelby yells.
Angelina appears in the doorway and wiggles her fingers at us. “Hey, Rooster. How was your ride?”
“Not bad. How’re you doing, Angelina?”
“Good.” Her gaze strays to the stove. “Is that bacon?”
“Help yourself.” I gesture toward the counter.
She joins us at the table with a plate of bacon, an orange, and a glass of water.
Shelby raises an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“I’m a simple girl.” She digs into the orange, leaving the peels in a neat pile next to her plate.
“How’s the songwriting going?” I ask.
Her gaze slips to Shelby. “I think it’s good?” Her voice seems more questioning than confident.
“It’s great,” Shelby says. “Angelina is uniquely qualified to be my writing buddy in several key areas.”
The two of them crack up at what I assume is an inside joke.
“It’s true,” Angelina agrees.
After breakfast, I walk the girls over to the main house just to get more Shelby time.
Shelby punches in the code for the door leading into the massive, gleaming kitchen.
“Logan! Just the man I was lookin’ for,” Dawson bellows from the kitchen table. “Come in. You got a minute?”
“Sure.”
Shelby meets my eyes and lifts her shoulders the tiniest bit. She must not know what Dawson wants to discuss.
“Mornin’ Shelby. Angelina.” Dawson nods at the girls. “Everything’s all set up for you. I won’t be needing anything down there today.”
“Thanks.” Shelby scurries past him. I hate that she’s still clearly walking on eggshells here.
Dawson’s gaze lingers on Angelina, even though she pretty much ignores his existence. Fun times.
I clear my throat.
Dawson drags his gaze away from Angelina. “Follow me.” He turns and waves his hand over his shoulder.
I glance at the gleaming hardwood floors, not sure my filthy boots should be thumping over them. But Dawson doesn’t slow his stride or ask me to take ‘em off, so I follow him down a wide hallway.