Page 22 of One Good Puck
Abby walks over to the stool, and I fish out the poached eggs and set them on a plate lined with paper towels. The English muffins pop out of the toaster a minute later, right as the bacon finishes cooking.
I place the toasted English muffins on a plate, set two slices of bacon on each half, then top both of them with a poached egg.
When I set the plate in front of Abby along with a fork and knife, her eyes are bright and she’s smiling. Like I just whipped up a Michelin-starred meal and not the easy go-to meal that I’ve made for myself a million times.
“I should have you throw your protein shake at me every morning,” she jokes.
I burst out laughing, then quickly stop myself. “Sorry, I don’t wanna wake Emma.”
Abby waves a hand. “You won’t. She sleeps like a log.”
“Good to know. Coffee?”
“Yes, please. And maybe some hot sauce?”
“You got it.” I grab a bottle of Cholula from the fridge and hand it to her, then get started brewing a pot ofcoffee.
Abby hums as she digs into breakfast. “This is so good.”
“You think so?”
She nods and finishes half of the open-faced breakfast sandwich. I pour her a big mug of coffee.
“How do you take it?” I ask.
“Just black. Thanks so much,” she says when I set it down next to her plate.
I lean on the counter across from her with my own cup of coffee.
“You don’t want any breakfast?” she asks me.
I shake my head. “I’m not hungry in the mornings. A protein shake is about all I can handle.”
She smiles as she chews. When she looks up at me, she stops chewing, her gaze fixed on my chest. Her eyes widen the slightest bit. A second later, she looks back down at her food. And that’s when I notice a hint of pink on her cheeks.
Is she embarrassed? Not sure why. We joked about bumping into each other earlier, and now we’re all good, at least I thought so.
I’m confused until it dawns on me. Does Abby…like seeing me shirtless? Is she…attracted to me?
The realization hits like a ton of bricks. I’m a lot older than her—like, more than sixteen years older than her. No way would she think I’m hot.
But then I notice how she looks up again at my bare chest. This time, her gaze lingers. Slowly, she scans up my torso, then back down again before studying her almost empty plate.
Oh, shit. I think Abby likes seeing me without a shirt on.
I guess I was wrong. She just might be into older guys.
My head swells with the nice little boost that sends to my ego. I start to grin, but then I quickly rein it in.
You’re not allowed to think about that, remember? So what if she likes seeing you shirtless? Not like you can do anything about it. She’s your housemate. And friend. Nothing more.
“Can I make you another?” I ask when her plate is empty.
She shakes her head, then smiles at me. “I’m perfect. Thank you, Gavin. That was really sweet of you to cook me food.”
“It was no problem. I was happy to.”
She cups her hands around her coffee mug and looks down at it. “I can’t remember the last time someone made me breakfast. I’m usually the one cooking breakfast for Emma. Which I’m more than happy to do,” she says. “It’s just been years since another adult has cooked for me. Single parent life, you know? It felt really special.”
