“They left not long after you went up to bed.”
“All of them?”
He crooked a smile. “Yeah. All of them. Petra isn’t my girlfriend. Or even a one-night stand, Haven.”
She diverted her attention to her laptop. “It’s not any of my business who you sleep with.”
Yeah, right. Except she’d looked irritated last night. And he had to admit that made him curious. Was she jealous? Why would she be? Was she interested in him? He looked over at her, so focused on whatever it was she was doing on her laptop.
“Ready to work so soon?”
“Whenever you are.”
“Coffee first. And then breakfast. Have you eaten yet?”
“I had some yogurt.”
He poured a cup of coffee. “Yogurt? That’s it?”
“It’s enough for me.”
He laughed. “No, it’s not. How about some bacon and eggs and pancakes? Maybe some biscuits and gravy?”
She finally drew her attention away from her laptop and looked at him. “Hammond’s not here. He said he had errands to run.”
“I told you I know how to cook.”
She gave him the once-over. “Maybe I should cook.”
He laughed. “I think you’ll just have to trust me.”
“Really. I’m good. The yogurt was fine.”
“It’s not fine. And I need to eat anyway. I need fuel for the day, and breakfast should be your biggest meal.”
“Uh, no thanks, really. I’m good.”
“Come with me. You can sit with me and drink your coffee while I’m cooking.”
She seemed to agree with that, following him into the kitchen and taking a seat at the island.
He pulled out several skillets. “I’ll make extra, just in case you change your mind.” She looked like she could use some calories, like she’d lost some weight since the last time he’d seen her.
“What are you working on over there?” he asked as he put bacon in the pan, then cracked eggs in a bowl.
“Just the outline for our program together.”
Deciding against pancakes, he took out bread and popped some in the toaster. “Okay. So what’s the plan?”
“It can wait until after breakfast.”
“Do you like orange juice?”
“What?”
“Orange juice. Do you like it?”
“Oh. Yes, I do. Why?”
He opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents. “I also have carrot juice, apple juice, and cranberry juice. What would you prefer?”
“Um . . . orange juice is fine.”
He poured two glasses, then flipped the bacon over and got out two plates.
“Really, Trevor, I’m not hungry.”
He slid a smile her way. “No one said you had to eat.”
He finished the bacon, then put the eggs in the pan. In a couple of minutes, they were scrambled perfectly. He split them onto two plates and slid one in her direction. Not paying attention to her, he pulled up a chair at the breakfast bar and started eating.
It didn’t take her long to push her laptop to the side, grab the fork he’d laid on the plate, and dive into the food.
Never underestimate the power of the smell of bacon. She ate at least half of what he’d put on her plate, which he’d call a success.
When she finished, she pushed the plate to the side. “That was really good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You’re a good cook, Trevor.”
He leaned back in his chair. “This surprises you?”
“I don’t know why it should. You’re good at so many things.”
He shot her a grin. “Darlin’, you don’t know the half of it.”
She rolled her eyes and slid off the bar stool. “I’ll do the dishes.”
“You don’t have to do that. You’re a guest.” He got up and took her plate, and his, to the sink, rinsed them, and loaded them in the dishwasher. Then he washed the skillet.
“You’re just on your best behavior because I’m here, right?” she asked as she once again took her seat at the breakfast bar.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“First you cook, then you do dishes, too?”
He stacked the skillet on the dish rack, then grabbed the towel to dry his hands. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
“This isn’t the Trevor I know.”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”