Page 31 of Empty Net

My lips twitch with a grin as I watch him move around my kitchen, looking entirely at ease. He dumps the horrific orange-juice-and-coffee combination, then refills the mug with fresh joe before grabbing the correct orange bottle from the fridge andsplashing some in. He peeks at me over his shoulder, a dark brow lifted in a silent question.

“A little more,” I request.

He pours what looks like the perfect amount before recapping the creamer and setting it back in the fridge in the exact spot he got it from, and I wonder if that’s because he’s noticed that I tend to like things in a particular spot or if that’s just who he is too.

He brings my coffee to me, then settles back against the counter, watching me as I bring it to my lips and take a drink. As I suspected, it’s perfect. The creamer-to-coffee ratio is just the way I like it. I take another few sips, then smack my lips.

“So,” I say to the man who stands there with his arms across his chest, watching me like he’s afraid I might fall over at any moment. “What brings you by?”

He nods to the counter, and that’s when I realize there’s a bag sitting there. It’s grease-stained and absolutely calling my name.

I peek back at him, brow raised. “For me?”

“Yep.”

I practically dive for the bag, and he laughs over the crinkling of brown paper. I open it to find what looks like a sandwich and a big box of hash browns, and my gosh, does it smell so good. I immediately reach for a fried potato round, tossing it into my mouth and sighing when the fried-food flavor settles over my tongue.

“You’re the best.”

He grins—not that he’s ever stopped—and pushes off the counter, stalking toward me. “That’s the second time you’ve said that today. Keep it up, and I might just get a complex.”

I’d blush if I felt an ounce of mortification over it, but I don’t. I’m too happy right now because he brought me food.

Fox reaches for the bag and pulls out two sandwiches and another thing of hash browns. He passes me a set and keeps theother for himself, setting napkins out in front of each of us. I immediately take a bite of the sandwich while he moves back to the coffeepot. He grabs a mug from the cabinet, pulls the orange juice from the fridge, and pours himself a generous glass before clinking it against my cup.

“Cheers,” he says before taking a sip.

I groan. “No. No cheers. I can’t do any more cheers.”

He laughs. “Too much cheersing last night, huh?”

“Way too much.” I pop another hash brown into my mouth. “Remind me never to drink like that again.”

“Never drink like that again.” He winks at me before taking a huge bite of his bacon, egg, and cheese breakfast croissant, grease coating his fingers. When he sucks a digit into his mouth, I have to look away.

There’s no reason at all that should be attractive, yet I still find myself rubbing my thighs together.It has to be my dry spell. That’s all.

I push away all naughty thoughts and stuff another tot into my mouth.

“You know, I always thought potatoes were such an interesting food.”

He lifts a curious brow across from me, his mouth full as he takes another bite, his sandwich nearly gone in just two and mine still sitting practically untouched.

He chews and swallows. “Interesting how?”

“Well, we eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, you know? It’s still a potato. We just call it something different. Like these little things.” I hold up the round, pressed, deep-fried potato. “This is a hash brown, hash round, tater tot,andbreakfast potato all in one. It just depends on who you’re asking.”

He nods. “That’s an excellent point. And it’s why they’re my favorite food group.”

He tosses one into his mouth, then grins—again. I want to hate that he smiles so much because who seriously does that? But I can’t. It’s…cute.He’scute.

I ignore that thought of mine.

“Not that I’m not completely grateful for it, but you just decided to bring me breakfast because…”

Red fills his cheeks and even stains the tips of his ears. He squeezes the back of his neck. “I, uh, I figured I’d better check on you after how I left you this morning. You were really out of it. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Okay as in I didn’t pull an Elvis and die on the toilet?”

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