Page 61 of His North Star
“What it sounds like to me is you’re behaving like a big ol’ chicken,” I said. “Too scared to break up with Lys. Too scared to talk to me.” I titled my head as I gazed at him. He stared back, not agreeing or disagreeing with me.
“Bock, bock, bock.” I flapped my arms like wings.
“Stop it.” He chucked a pillow at me.
I got right in his face—while keeping a blanket over my chest—and squawked.
He started laughing. A deep, stomach-tightening laugh. He grabbed my shoulders and flipped me onto my back, tickling my sides. He leaned over me, a big, goofy grin on his face. I smiled back.
“I’m not a chicken,” he said.
“That’s debatable,” I sassed back.
“Whatever.”
I chuckled. “Want to help with breakfast?”
“At the lodge?”
He hovered over me. I wasn’t uncomfortable per se, but his arms had to be aching from holding himself up. I sat up, making him move back in the process.
“I’m eating here first before going over to the lodge.” I used to wait to eat until after I’d served our guests’ breakfast, but working four hours on an empty stomach wasn’t my best idea.
“Sure.” He nodded.
“Great. But can I get some privacy, please? I’m a little indecent.” I waved to my pajama-clad body.
“I don’t mind.”
Heat seared my face. “Ty,” I reprimanded.
He shrugged, totally not sorry.
I expected comments like that from James. He was an epic flirt. But from Ty, it was different because I wanted it to mean more than it actually did.
I shook my head. “I’ll let it pass, as long as you let me shower in peace.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
“By the way, your spare toothbrush is in the second drawer. Use it, please.”
“Your breath isn’t too peachy right now either,” he shot back.
Considering my tongue resembled sandpaper, I wasn’t surprised. I motioned him out the door. After gathering my clothes to take into the bathroom with me—no need for a repeat of the time he slept over—I went to shower.
While the water warmed, I called Dad. When he didn’t answer, I left a voicemail asking him to call me. I texted Landon next to ask for any other news, but he didn’t respond either. Maybe they still didn’t have Mom’s MRI results back, or they were talking with the doctor?
I showered quickly. While toweling off, sweet strains of music and an earthy scent wafted under the door. I rushed through my routine, blow drying my hair in record time. Peeking around the corner of the hallway into the kitchen, I watched Ty, who had on my Lake Life apron, stirring something on the stove. His soothing voice crooned along to Tim McGraw.
Walking into the kitchen, I said, “I was going to cook.” I looked into the skillet where an omelet sizzled.
“I figured it was the least I could do.”
Aw. There was my sweet best friend. “It smells great.”
“Hopefully it tastes good too.” He bumped my side with his hip.
“I have no doubt it will.” I pulled two glasses down, pouring us both orange juice. “When’s the big moving day, neighbor?”
