Page 51 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy
“I did. You think I would let anything get in my way?”
She blushes pink. “Um, I think we should tell Bradley you slept on the couch. Just to keep things simple for him.”
“Of course.” I kiss the side of her head.
“Mom!” Bradley’s voice comes from the other side of the door, and I watch as she decides what to say, how to answer, what to do with me.
“I’ll be right there,” she calls, then hesitates. “He probably already saw the couch…”
“I have a better idea then.” Tossing off the covers, I pull on my clothes and shoes and head for the window.
“What are you doing?” she hisses.
With a wink, I open the window and climb out of it, landing in the grass. Quickly, I make my way around to the front of the house and knock on the door. Within a few seconds, footsteps approach.
Bradley opens the door, his eyes going big when he sees me. “Oh! Oliver!”
“Hey, buddy. Your mom invited me over for breakfast. I hope that’s okay.”
Behind him, Carly presses her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.
“Yeah!” Bradley opens the door wider for me. “Come on!”
I follow him into the kitchen, making sure to give Carly a little slap on the behind when he can’t see.
“What should we make?” I ask Bradley
He’s already pushing a chair to the counter so that he can reach everything. “Pancakes!” he shouts. “Like a big stack of them.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Let’s make the biggest stack ever.”
“Who wants coffee?” Carly asks, heading for the pot, and Bradley laughs.
“No way!” he says. “I want pancakes.”
“Well, Mommy was up late…” She sends me a sultry glance. “And I need coffee.”
“Oh no,” I say. “Why were you up so late?”
Instead of answering, she sticks her tongue out at me and spoons beans into the grinder.
Bradley and I get to work, cracking eggs and measuring flour. It’s not his first time making pancakes, apparently, because he instructs me on every step. With the batter mixed and the fresh smell of coffee filling the kitchen, we turn on the skillet and get to cooking. No sooner have we ladled the first batch onto the skillet than my phone rings.
I forgot it was even in my pocket.
Bradley looks at me. “You gonna get that?” he asks.
“Nope,” I say.
“You can answer it.” Carly nudges her way up to the counter. “I’ll take over till you get back.”
“Thank you,” I say, pulling out the phone and seeing it’s Dave.
Strange. It’s the first time he’s called me since I’ve arrived in Miralena, our only interaction being some check-in texts here and there. Bringing a cup of coffee with me, I answer the phone and walk to the front porch.
“Hey, man,” I say.
“Greer,” Dave says. “How’s it going?”
