Page 37 of Coach's Temptation

Hunter barely spares me a glance, abs flexing as he reaches for a plate. "You're in my kitchen."

My mouth works, but no words come out. Because how is his body even real? Even his abs have abs.

He slaps a coffee mug onto the counter and slides it toward me like he's dealing cards. "Drink. Function."

I clear my throat, forcing my gazeanywherebut the ridges of his stomach.

"You could've warned me about the whole..." I wave vaguely at his chest. "…shirtless breakfast situation."

Hunter flips another egg. "Forgive me for not rolling out a damn red carpet for you."

I frown and wrap my hands around the warmth of the mug. "Are you always like this in the morning, or am I getting a special brand of grump today?"

"Less talking. More drinking."

I sigh, roll my eyes and take a sip…

Then nearlychoketo death.

I splutter as it burns allthe way down. "Jesus. Did you make this with jet fuel?"

He drinks from his own mug like it's water. "Stronger the better."

"Oh my God. At least it explains why you're always twitching."

I mutter into my cup, watching him flip eggs that look delicious despite the irritated frown overlooking them. He keeps loading everything onto the plates as I battle my way through this mug of pure terror.

Hunter sets a plate in front of me, and I can't help but stare. My stomach growls in betrayal.

The eggs gleam with perfect, runny yolks. The bacon curls at just the right angles. Even the tomatoes look like they belong in a food magazine.

I grab my fork and dig in, the first bite melting on my tongue. "Okay, this is unfair."

Hunter leans against the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest. "What's unfair?"

"You can't be good at everything. It violates some universal law."

His eyes narrow as he scans the kitchen, zeroing in on my stuff scattered around like confetti after a party. "What it doesn't explain is why you're taking over my house."

I shovel another perfect bite of fried egg into my mouth and blink up at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He snatches a pink scrunchie off the counter and dangles it between us. "What the hell is this?"

"A tax for letting me live here…?"

"That's not how taxes work." He grabs my favorite hoodie from where I'd artfully draped it over the chair last night at dinner. "And this?"

I reach for it with grabby hands. "Oh, thanks. I was looking for that this morning."

He holds it just out of reach, his jaw ticking. "It's been here since last night."

"And I've been looking for it since then." I pop the last bite of bacon in my mouth, savoring the crunch. "You know, your cooking almost makes up for your morning personality."

"My morning personality is fine."

I nearly choke on my coffee again. "Sure it is."

Hunter sighs, drags his hand down his face like he's trying to wipe away his own words. "You need a ride to work?"

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