“A couple of hours,” she replied.
“Good,” he muttered.
“I, uh…thought I’d start my thank-you process by making you breakfast,” she told him.
He quirked his brows. “Your thank-you process?”
“It has multiple layers. Or it will. I haven’t decided what those are going to be yet. But,” she indicated the frying pan with her fork, “it starts with breakfast.”
He smiled at her. “Baby, you don’t have anything to thank me for.”
At least, not yet.
“On that, we disagree,” she mumbled, turning back to the pan. “It’s good you’re up, how do you like your eggs?”
“However you make them.”
She looked at him again. “What’s your favorite way?”
“Eggs are eggs, babe. Whatever way you wanna make ’em, I’ll like.”
She was going to say something, but toast popped up and that took her attention.
So he said, “Gonna go brush my teeth. Then I’ll be back, and I’ll help you finish breakfast.”
Her attention returned to him, but he pivoted, walked to his room and through it to the bathroom. He used it, washed his hands, did the brush thing, the floss thing, splashed water on his face and pulled his wet fingers through his hair.
And he absolutely did not tug on a tee on his way back to the kitchen.
She had plates down, a stack of toast started, bacon resting on a paper towel by the stove and was scrambling some eggs when he returned.
“Just sit down, Mag, and let me serve you. If you help, it won’t be a thank-you,” she ordered, not glancing his way.
But…
Mag?
She had not once called him Mag, unless it was right after he told her to do that, but then she went right back to Danny.
Seemed in those hours she didn’t sleep she’d made some decisions about how she was going to move forward on some things.
Though not all the right decisions.
Making breakfast in his tee, correct.
Calling him Mag, incorrect.
He saw the coffeepot was full, so instead of heading to a stool at the island, he moved that way.
Which was closer to her.
“Just gonna get a cup of joe,” he told her.
“I can get it for you,” she offered quickly, turning his way. “How do you take it?”
Fortunately, he’d gotten close by the time she turned his way so he could get up in her space.
Something he did.
Her eyes got wide, then they dropped to his chest, grew lazy, he grinned, and they shot back up to his face.
“Mag, I—” she began.
“Danny,” he muttered, looking at her mouth.
Her head ticked, and she said, “But I thought you liked to be called—”
She again didn’t finish, seeing as he lifted a hand, slid his fingers along the side of her neck and up into her hair behind her ear.
Yeah, that hair was as soft as it looked.
“Didn’t sleep much either, worried about you and if you were getting any rest,” he told her.
“Well, I…that sucks. I’m sorry. I—”
She stopped talking when he slid the tips of his fingers through her hair and down the line of the back of her neck.
“I gotta work today, but you can stay here,” he said. “I’ll talk to Mo. They got a security system at their pad. Mac danced last night, so she’s probably asleep, but when she gets up, you can hang with her. Around lunch, I’ll come and get you and take you over to their place.”
“Mag—”
“Danny,” he corrected, running his fingers under her ear, feeling her shiver, fighting another grin, then he stroked her throat with his forefinger and kept talking. “When I get off work tonight, I’ll come get you and we’ll pop in at the police station. Make a quick statement. Give them what we got to help them do their jobs.”
“The police?”
He didn’t address that.
He kept rolling.
“And then we’ll grab a bite and go to your place, check it out, see what we can salvage, form a plan of attack for cleanup. Boone and Axl said they’d help.”
“They did?” she whispered.
“Yeah,” he confirmed.
“That’s nice,” she kept whispering.
But now she was watching his mouth.
“You like them?” he asked.
Her brows twitched.
“Who?” she asked his mouth.
He couldn’t beat back the smile at that.
“Boone and Axl.”
“They were great,” she mumbled, again, to his mouth.
He dipped his head closer to hers.
She swayed toward him.
Oh yeah.
He slid his hand again to the back of her neck and murmured, “How ’bout, since you’re closer, you pour me a cup, and I’ll finish these eggs.”
“What?”
She was still solely focused on his mouth.
“Evie?”
“Mm?”
“Honey, you keep lookin’ at my mouth like that, I’m gonna be forced to give you a good morning kiss.”
She did not take her eyes from his mouth, but Mag didn’t give her a good morning kiss.
Evie lifted her hands, latched on to either side of his neck and yanked him down at the same time she was surging up, and one thing he could say.
Her aim was true.
With her lips she smushed his lips back into his teeth so bad he tasted that tang you got when you took one to the mouth.