Page 48 of August

Running his fingertips over the keyboard, he entered Seattle as a location. The search was probably a wasted effort since the guys were coming over to brainstorm and they’d likely have a better starting point, but in the meantime it wouldn’t hurt to try something. Doubtful the asshole was still in the city, but Todd did seem to lack common sense.

“Breakfast is ready,” Gigi said cheerily from the kitchen.

August pushed away from the desk and opened the door. The scent of hashbrowns and bacon met his nostrils, and his salivary glands tingled. He rounded the corner to find Gigi sashaying around the small kitchen. Her hair was tied up in a knot on the top of her head, and tendrils streaked down in a sexy mess.

She still wore his shirt, the material swallowing her frame. She paused midturn when she caught him staring. “Hi. Hungry?”

“Always.” The growl rolled from his tongue as he stalked to the kitchen.

“Ah, stop right there.” She held out a spatula as if she expected the flimsy rubber to serve as a shield.

He stopped, only because she looked too damn cute trying to keep him away. Folding his arms across his chest so he wouldn’t touch her, he squinted. “You’re teasing me.”

“Am not. I just want us both to eat.”

“I could eat you right now instead.” He took a step closer. Christ. As the offer slipped past his lips, he remembered Toth. The guys would be here soon, and he still needed to have a shower and get dressed. Last thing he wanted was to start something with Gigi he couldn’t finish.

She blinked rapidly. “You don’t slow down much, do you?”

He locked a hand on her hip bone. “Not where you’re concerned.”

A coy smile played at her lips as she tilted the spatula toward the stove. “Bacon’s getting crispy.”

“I like it crispy.” He ducked his head and caught her lips in his. The taste of oranges hit his mouth, and he went for more.

She sank against him, her body like the butter melting in the hot skillets on the stove. As if on cue, grease snapped in one of the pans.

“Oh, crap.” She stiffened then wriggled from his hold and ran for the stove. Lifting one of the pans, she mumbled a curse. “I think it’s okay. Especially if you like crispy.”

She placed the pans on cooling mats on the island and grabbed two plates from the cabinet. “Here.” She handed him one.

“Thanks. Smells delicious.” He sat at the island and scooped eggs onto his plate then took five strips of bacon and some of the diced fruit.

“I was craving pancakes, but they would’ve taken too long.” She took a seat next to him and served herself a much smaller helping. “I’m glad you got so much produce. Joe’s idea of fruit was bananas. I had to twist his arm to get oranges or grapes, and berries were out of the question.”

August tossed a slice of orange into his mouth. “I love fruit.”

She grinned. “Me, too. Raspberries are my favorite.”

He took a bite of egg. Salt and butter hit his tongue. And when he took a bite of the bacon he groaned—how the hell could someone cook bacon so perfect? “This is awesome.” He went for a bite of what looked like artisan bread. He couldn’t remember what the hell he’d ordered.

“It’s not exactly a fancy meal,” she said with a shrug. “But it’s breakfast.”

He was suddenly flooded with memories of their two weeks together in his apartment so long ago. She’d been there nearly every day, and an ease had formed between them. Warm smells had come from the kitchen as she made recipe after recipe. It hadn’t just been a fling.

No, there hadn’t been a promise.

No, they hadn’t discussed anything.

But goddammit, something had been there. Something that was comfortable, relaxed... She hadn’t just been a two-week fuck.

She’d been a friend.

“What are you thinking about?” Her narrowed gaze made his insides knot.

“Just one of the meals you made a long time ago. Can’t remember what it was but fuck was it delicious. I’ve looked for it on menus since, but...” He shrugged.

She brought a knuckle of the hand holding her fork near her pursed lips. “Hmm. I was making a ton of recipes back then. What kind of dish was it?”

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